[Day 31] Santa Rita Mountains

Today’s scene in the Santa Rita foothills had an interesting resemblance to the very northern portion of trail on the Kaibab Plateau — light undulations through yellowed grasses and junipers and mesquites and oaks. The morning at Box Canyon Trailhead started in the high 30°F’s. I hit cold pockets in the canyons as I resumed south, skirting east of Mt. Wrightson.

Early in my mileage for the day, I saw the opportunity to cut some distance whille getting better views along ungraded and unmaintained ATV routes. I, however, bypassed Kentucky Camp — a historic adobe style mining and ranching cabin — instead diverting straight to Apache Trailhead. Antiquated, yet active personal mining claims dotted the road side of the once gold-rich Santa Rita Mountains along my shortcut. The Santa Rita’s are not only home to mineral rich desposits, but they occasional provide habitat to endangered jaguars and ocelots. “El Jefe,” as he is known, is a male jaguar first spotted in the Santa Rita’s in 2011, but hasn’t been seen since 2015, likely returning to Mexico.

I arrived to Apache Trailhead to a fully-stocked water cache box. Nathan, a Florida Trail section hiker, was day hiking from the trailhead, noticed me, and offered a few peanut butter sandwiches over a drawn out description of his adventures in Florida. To some extent, he convinced me of the worthiness of the Florida Trail — at least some of its sections that hold deep, remote wetlands.

After giving my ear for an hour, I rolled on through the Santa Rita’s. Through this section, I carried four liters of fluids away from each source. Mid-December may be the worst season water-wise to hike Arizona — no significant winter weather has arrived and damed ponds and supplies dwindle.

En route to Highway 82, I had two liters remaining for what appeared to be a 20-mile carry to the next confirmed source. I went well off trail to search Green Dam, which turned out to be bone dry. This 33-mile section of trail from Forest Service Road 785 to south of Highway 82 is less than a year old, so water intel was meager. Instead of continuing along a dry ridge line towards the highway, I paralleled the ridge walking down Casa Blanca Canyon. On my way along Casa Blanca Road, a gray fox darted across the road. The black-tipped tail was a give away. This pleasant alternative delivered me to the AZT-dedicated water cache box at Casa Blanca Trailhead, which myself nor my map knew existed. I chugged water and cameled with another four liters of water for tomorrow’s haul.

Unfortunately, despite popular recommendation from other hikers, I decided to bypass the town of Patagonia. My food supplies were surprisingly plenty (I didn’t even add or subtract food from my pack since I got off trail a month ago), and I wanted to jam.

I went well into the night, listening to a mixture of Creed, Pearl Jam, and Red Hot Chili Peppers. Before I knew it, I was looking at 35 miles of hiking. I meant to call it quits, but camping options trapped me for another two miles. I cut myself at 37 miles and crawled into my cowboy camp. Miraculously, due to a couple shortcuts, I managed to eliminate ten miles from my estimated total mileage to the border. My routes weren’t that incursive, at least I thought.

Signing off,

Zeppelin

“Freak on a Leash”