Saguaro National Park Hiking

Out the door by 4:30 for this early frequent flyer ticket flight, I arrive at O’Hare with lots of time – or so I think. I know it sounds unpatriotic to complain about airport security, but people should be doing a lot more complaining about these useless searches. Just secure the damn cockpit! After that, there’s no more threat than in a subway or bus. Eventually, we should move towards pilotless planes (we have the technology for this now) so that hijacking becomes an impossibility.

Unfortunately, I’m traveling in irrational times, so I have to have every single item in my bag slowly examined. I have a water pump that completely baffles the inspector. He thinks it doesn’t work because he can’t feel any air coming out the bottom when he pumps it! Finally, they look through all my stuff, run my shoes through the scanner and I just make the flight.

I have a transfer in the Twin Cities and a jammed flight to Tucson. I’m stuck in a middle seat between a broad man and a nasty granny with a malicious desire to dig her bony little elbows into my arm. She so ornery, I completely turn to face the man and chat with him throughout the flight. At least he’s a nice enough guy – going down for golfing.

Just missing the bus I want at the airport, I catch another one and transfer to another bus that eventually gets me downtown. The Tucson SunTrans is far from perfect, but it is a much better system than in most Western towns.

I’m staying at the Roadrunner Hostel. As far as hostels go, this place is well run with a superior staff. Facilities are excellent and include a well-equipped kitchen, Internet access and bike rental. The dorms are a bit cramped and there are inconsiderate jerks in there every night I stayed. So long as a proper night’s sleep isn’t your top priority (true with most any hostel), this is a good place.

Next morning, my plan is to hitchhike to the eastern termination of Speedway Ave, where there is a trail into Saguaro National Park -- East. However, I have an impossible time getting a ride. At first, I blame heavy traffic and high speeds, but even after miles of walking, to the point where the traffic lessens, I find I still can’t catch a ride! People speed down this road with complete indifference to traffic or speed limit. The latter is posted at 25-45 mph, but nearly everyone is doing 60+. So I trudge endlessly along the side of the road.

Practically no one walks down this road either, so when I finally come across a couple walking their dog, I’m quick to ask them how close I am to the end. The guy says one mile. Vastly encouraged, I hike another mile and a half before I see a sign that says: “curves next 2 miles”. A few miles later, I see a woman on a horse who tells me it’s about four miles from there to the end of the road!

I’m out of water at this point, with no prospects for getting any for a long time, so I start hitchhiking with great intent. I give every passing car my full attention and try all the tricks that have been so successful for me in the past. Indeed, I’ve never been so thoroughly shutout before, but this is not my day or the right road for a ride. Since I’m mostly hitching instead of walking, it takes me a long time to travel the next two miles. After that I give up and hike. I’m tired and thirsty, but my spirits are not at all dampened by my slow start. After all, I came here to hike; so a little pre-game warm-up doesn’t bother me too much.

Just as I finally, finally get to towards the end of the road, a park ranger goes by. Damn, where was that guy earlier, as I’m thinking, perhaps wishfully, that he would have picked me up. Tired as I am, I hustle to try to catch him because I want to inform the park service that my itinerary will change a bit.

Yes, those of you who know me will be greatly surprised to hear that I’ve actually gone to the trouble to file an itinerary with the park service, complying with their rules for a backcountry permit. I’m becoming a conformist in my old age. Thus, when I do catch up to the ranger, who was only up the trail a bit to check the trail register, I can avoid lying to him when he asks if I’m staying overnight and if I have a backcountry permit. I tell him my first camp will change from Manning to Douglas Springs.

I can’t completely avoid fibbing to the ranger because he asks me if I have any water. There’s no way this guy would have let me in there without water and there’s no way I’m not going in. After saying I have some water, I make the mistake of asking him if I’m likely to see any water sources before Douglas Springs. For that I have to endure the standard lecture of how there is no reliable water anywhere in the area outside of Manning. I’m a bit taken aback by this, mainly because I’m so thirsty and just getting to Douglas Springs will be difficult for me. From what I’d heard, water at Douglas Springs was fairly reliable. Then I quickly realize the ranger is towing the typically over-cautious park service line. If there really was no other water around outside of Manning, I’m sure I would have heard about it. They’d probably post all kinds of ridiculous warning signs everywhere.

Basically, I think we should desanitize our national parks and stop trying to make them safe. Let goofy people like me wander in and get killed! That’s what the wilderness is all about! I don’t mind following the rules about filing my itinerary, especially when they make it easy to do it by mail, such as at Saguaro. But if I want to walk into the mountains without food or water or proper gear, then I should be able to do it.

Oh yeah, I forgot to mention that I also don’t have food or proper gear. I realize that all readers have now pegged me as a bonehead, but I can live with that. I should add here that it’s February, so intense heat is not the issue that it would be in the summer. If it were 110 degrees, I wouldn’t take these chances with lack of water. However, my point is that we’re far too comfortable with our modern lives. We’re made to go through periods of huger, thirst and cold, but we too rarely get the opportunity to do this.

Yes, opportunity! How often in your life have you been exquisitely hungry? How many times have you been so thirsty that you start to think of water with the religious fervor of a Freeman? Or so cold that the first ray of sunlight over the mountains after a long, freezing night infuses you with new life? Far too few times, most likely. I’m about to have all three experiences, starting with the thirst. I’m not advocating masochism. I’m just trying to convey the idea that it’s impossible to understand something without experiencing the lack of it. Melville has a famous passage in Moby Dick where he says that you can only understand warmth when part of you is cold. All things in life are this way, and our basic needs require our most complete understanding.

As usual, I’m as joyful as a little kid on the trail, which starts out as a cactus wonderland. I’m looking around everywhere at the many birds, lizards and snakes. Only after I steadily climb a bit and stop to look back at how impossibly far away Tucson looks do I start to remember my thirst. Once I remember though, I find it hard to get out of my mind. What if there really is no water at Douglas? Could I make it all the way to Manning, or would I be forced to hike out again?

After a series of climbs punctuated by little mesas, I come across two couples hiking out. I ask them if there is water at Douglas Springs, but they are daytrippers and didn’t even get that far. However, one guy says he saw water at Douglas about a month back. So long as he’s not related to the guy who gave me an estimation of the length of Speedway, I’m in good shape for the night.

I could really use that water before that though. I’m dragging my butt up the mountain. The great Saguaros give way to chaparral, and I start to fantasize about chewing on cactus. The mica particles on the trail start to look like pixie dust. I’ve been hiking so long that I’m moving like an automaton. I’m a bit dazed and if only I could have some water I’d just sit there forever drinking and drinking….

I’m there! I see water! Wait a second -- this can’t be Douglas Springs. There’s no doubt there is some substance on the ground that resembles water though. Unfortunately, it is no more than an algae puddle filled with insects, hoof prints and horseshit. Bad as this water is, I get out my pump and look long and hard at the vile little puddle. I’m very, very close to taking it, but then I figure that I can’t be more than a mile from Douglas Springs and there has to be better water there. Surely I could hold out for one more mile for a much better drink? Can’t I?

I can, just barely. Douglas is just about a mile past the puddle and the water puddles there are much clearer. My pump doesn’t think so though. I’m testing a new pump, a Katadyn mini-pump that is half the size and weight of my venerable MSR Waterworks. Unfortunately, it clogs after every pint and is extremely difficult to pump. This water doesn’t look that silty either. I have a great deal of trouble with this pump, throughout the trip. At this point I’m cursing it for the immense effort required for every tiny trickle.

Oh, but those beautifully clear little trickles are so very much appreciated! I drink and pump and pump and drink until I can drink no more.

OK, after that, a little problem like not having tent spikes seems trivial. I have to deal with this though. I’d had a nagging feeling that I’d forgotten them. It may even have turned out to be subconsciously deliberate because they probably wouldn’t have let me carry them on in the plane. I should add here that I’d also meant to bring some MRE’s, so I wasn’t planning on going completely hungry, but forgot them as well. I accept my zamakebo.

I wind up using rocks to prop up my non-freestanding tent. The tent actually turned out to be my biggest mistake of the trip. I’d forgotten that this lightweight Walrus Swift is just mesh inside. This first night is under 5000’, so I’m OK, but throughout the rest of the trip I’m sleeping between 5000’-8000’ and the temperatures dip into the 20’s. Even worse, it’s often terrifically windy, so the wind blows right inside the mesh and my makeshift stone fastened fly. I feel a chill just remembering these long difficult nights where my water bottles froze inside the tent.

However, I’m not having difficulty at Douglas Springs. I’d heard that this was once a forested area, but a bad fire in 1989 cleared everything out. It’s recovered from the fire, but the big trees are gone. I’ve heard that old time visitors feel a bit melancholy about visiting the site, remembering how it used to be. Not having seen it before the fire, I like the place.

A bright full moon stays up in the sky long after daylight. I laboriously pump 1.5 liters for the short trip to Manning and start climbing. I hike along the side of a shady dry creek. It has a wonderfully mysterious feel to it. Climbing again I hear a series of explosions. Don’t know what that was about. Right when I start to see pine trees and blue jays, the winds pick up. Now the terrain looks like the Kirk Douglas movie “Lonely Are the Brave”, where he has to climb with his horse over the mountains to escape the police.

Still climbing, I have to cross a few snowfields, but the snow is packed down enough to not make this a problem in my New Balance trail runners. I almost opted for my heavier hiking boots because I knew I’d have to cross snow, but I made out fine with the lightweights.

I’m dogging it today, feeling unusually tired. The combination of lack of sleep, long hiking the day before, and getting used to the altitude leave me wiped out. I actually nod off for a few moments sitting on a rock when I stop for a break.

Fortunately, most of the hard hiking to Manning is at the beginning and the last mile is the easiest. Manning has a little cabin and a stable area. It’s deserted now but probably popular in the summer. There’s plenty of water here, but my pump continually acts up. At one point, the next day, I just can’t get it to work. I’m about to give up and risk almost certain giardia (I’ve had this so many times that once more could hardly matter) when I try spitting on the bottom of the pump. There’s a seal there that you’re supposed to use a lubricant on. After trying the lubricant many times without success, I thought maybe some spit might work. It does! Not just this one time, but a few times during this trip. Desperation is the true mother of invention.

Manning is at 8000’ so this is the start of my frigid nights. I get out of the tent before the sun comes up, just to stop shivering inside. I eat some pine needles. I don’t even know if it’s OK to eat pine needles, but I seem to have survived it.

They have some very good bear boxes at Saguaro, big metal containers with a clever opening handle. Not quite clever enough though because the bears broke the one near my campsite. They couldn’t get in but they mauled the box enough to jam it shut. Out of curiosity rather than necessity, I try very hard to open the jammed box, but am unable to.

I spend the next few days hiking on and around Mica Mountain. I love the peaceful desolation at these higher altitudes. There are some great views in the area and lots of large antlered deer. As I’ve said, the nights are very difficult though. Every morning I have to chip ice off my water pump and wait for my bottles to unfreeze. I stand like a penguin with my back to the first rays of the sun as they pop up over the mountains. My sister recently gave me a GPS and I’m testing it out. It doesn’t work in the cold morning but always works later in the day.

Not only did I forget to bring a lot of things, I accidentally brought a few items in my bag that I didn’t mean to. One of these is a book called “Folk Medicine” by D.C. Jarvis. It’s from the 1950’s and is supposed to be about Vermont Folk Medicine. In a nutshell, the Vermont Folk Medicine practitioner will give you apple cider vinegar and honey -- no matter what you’re problem is. He gives babies honey though, which I believe is a no-no. I think there’s supposed to be some sort of spore that they haven’t developed immunity to. I could be wrong, but maybe the 1950’s Vermont Folk Doctor wasn’t right about this. I left the book in a bear box and will give nearby coordinates for all of you geo-cache fans. Someone will probably burn it before they read it.

BTW, I do recommend the apple cider vinegar. I’ve written about kombucha before and believe the apple cider vinegar can give you basically the same benefits. Maybe not as many benefits as Dr. Jarvis claims, but some nonetheless.

I leave the Mica Mountain area via the Manning Camp Trail and Grass Shack. This is a descent down to 5300’. The next day I climb back up to Cow Head Saddle and then up again to Tanque Verde Peak. The path is very overgrown in some spots, almost hard to find. Some pheasants explode up in my face and I wind up brushing my hand into a cactus, giving me some nasty splinters. The west side of the Tanque Verde Ridge Trail has spectacular ridge views. I look right – wow! Turn my head left – wow again! You pay for these views with the winds though.

I try eating some pine gum. Again, I don’t know if this is edible. Actually, I’m going to look it up on the Internet right now. I hope this is good because the taste is interesting and it lasts forever. It certainly helped with the hunger. Hmm, I was surprised at what I found. Other people have used it as a gum but it doesn’t seem as popular as I’d expected. I was thinking that if it was OK to eat then lots of people would have eaten it, but it seems like it was used more as a sealant or varnish. Still, it doesn’t appear to be harmful to eat. I thought it was great but maybe I was just hungry.

Not long after passing Tanque Verde Peak, I see a European couple on a daytrip -- first people I’ve seen in days. The guy wants to try to make the peak but the woman wants to turn back. They agree to hike for a half hour more before turning back. I think they will just miss making the peak with this constraint. They both have super hiking sticks that I very much wish I had the use of!

One more night and I’m thinking it shouldn’t be too cold since I’m lower. It is though because the area is having a cold spell. So, I don’t wait for dawn to start hiking out. There’s still plenty of light from the stars and the large moon to see on the trail. It’s a long hike but almost all downhill.

When I exit the trail at Javelina I immediately start hitchhiking again. Less than a mile down the road a nice young woman stops. Her car is filled with stuff though so there’s no room for me. She says I can sit on the back. I’m dubious and ask if that’s safe. “I’ll drive slow,” she says. So, I hop onto the back boot of this little car, leaving me just enough room to get on with my pack. There’s nothing to hold onto though. Then she takes off – fast! I have to flatten myself as low as I can against the windshield, like a reverse Garfield doll. However, I also need to pop my head up to watch the road because it curves and if I don’t anticipate them and lean the right way I’m falling off!

She’s only taking me as far as the Visitor’s Center, but that’s enough excitement for me. Again, I try to hitch, this time on Old Spanish Trail, but have no more luck than I did at Speedway. I’m mentally resigned to hiking it though, so it isn’t too bad. I only have one bad spot where these two dogs charge me. One is huge and fierce, and he starts climbing over this little fence to get at me. The other one is a medium sized and somehow slips under the fence and starts for me. I head out into the road, hoping they won’t follow. Just as the big one is about to get over the fence, the medium sized dog jumps up and nips at him, knocking him back to the other side! Then they both bark at each other and I’m able to sneak away.

I spend the next two nights back at Roadrunner, again enjoying the people there but not the people in the dorm. I rent a bike to go to the Arizona-Sonora Desert Museum. This is a great place (perhaps a tad over-rated though) in a wonderful area. The roads out there are not good for biking, being very narrow and sometimes steep. You definitely have to watch out for cars. There are lots of good trails once you’re there though.