Sedona Diary 2
Hanging Over, and Onto, the Trail
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After a couple of warmup Vortexing hikes in beautiful Sedona, Arizona, my sister and I ventured for something a cut above. We parked the car and made our way up a canyon on a trail that crisscrossed a jeep road (boring) and a dry wash (highly interesting).
I have a few rules when hiking: start at crack of dawn to beat the heat and any afternoon thunderstorms; wear sturdy shoes because nothing hurts worse than crashing an unprotected toe on rocks; let someone know start and approximate end times; carry a fully charged phone; leave behind any and all anxieties, including thoughts of I should be writing. As a subrule to the leaving worries, don’t check the map too often, go with the terrain. This is a big change from my youth, where, out of my coastal flats element, it took some hiking to learn the ways of mountains.
When hiking rough desert terrain, the all too obvious rule is carry water. Yet, packing for the trip, I couldn’t find my minimalist-looks-like-a-kid’s pack. Trust me, it’s for grown-ups, it’s just dated. And it weighs next to nothing.
Anyhow, because I hike hands free, no pack led to the decision no water. Swallowing a camel-like swig at the car, I told myself not to do anything stupid, where I couldn’t walk back out.
We climbed the canyon. The day warmed, and I shed a sweatshirt to keep from sweating precious water. I cached it for later retrieval behind a V-shaped Arizona Cypress, a rugged species that thrives where few others can.
When hiking, I’ve learned to react to the land by changing pace to match the terrain. A rock-strewn section of trail calls for a slow hike. A level, rock-free section in the open shouts stroll to enjoy the scenery. Once out of the canyon bottom and up on a ridge, the view was breathtaking. Cliff faces and buttes stared back at us, having seen considerably more history than the two of us combined.
Sometimes you run downhill to take advantage of gravity. Jumping from rock to rock is a bonus.
Sometimes, the trail is little more than a sloped expanse of rock.
We made it to the first saddle, lingering with buttes in front and back, scenic views to either side.
Sometimes you climb bare rock faces, looking for toeholds and places to anchor your hands. Yep, I’d forgotten my promise-to-self to take few chances. Thoughts of water were nowhere in my head, filled as it was with the moment of interacting with a place most unusual. And spectacular. I couldn’t get enough.
The trail leveled off and followed a ledge along the butte. Occasional seeps dampened the sand at our feet, providing enough moisture for fern-like plants to grow, their roots deep into the cracks. The rock fell precipitously below us, affording front row views of the entire route.
We reached the second saddle where I saw a promising ledge along the next butte. The trail passed through a forested area and we descended. I thought, no, no, we need to go up to the ledge, not below it. We kept following, the trail petering out over sloped bare rock. We hiked a while longer, the targeted ledge out of sight well above us. That’s when I checked the map.
My sister was a good sport when I told her we missed our exit and needed to backtrack to the second saddle. She wasn’t fond of those sloped ledges, didn’t trust her new hiking shoes to cling to the rock at steep angles. We made it and found the trail across the second saddle. The sun had risen high by then and while much of our hike so far had been in shade, those times were gone. I remembered my bottle of water was not on my back, but in the car. Nuts- our path lay up the canyon, away from the car and across sloped bare rock.
We hiked the better part of a mile this way. We came across a couple. Quick hiking note: conversation on the trail comes free and easy. We’d already met a couple from French Belgium, not to be confused with Flemish Belgium. They don’t get along and the Flemish, who make up some 60% population, seem to make all the money.
This particular couple was in a different place. The woman looked unhappy as the man asked how hard the trail was behind us. It turned out they’d read a sign warning of a double black diamond trail. News to us, as the route we took had no such sign. We told them what we knew and suspected at least one of them would turn around.
We made our way back down to the canyon, where, day now advanced, we heard tour groups in jeeps hugging the road, dimming the magic of the previous miles. Plus, it was hot, and I was dreaming of my liter of fresh clean water, back at the car. For a brief moment, I considered drinking from the pool of water in the wash we crossed. It looked on the verge of stagnant and no telling what else grew in it in a well-visited canyon. If desperate, I’d toss a pebble in my mouth, Comanche-style.
No need as sometime later, a few hundred yards out, the white rental SUV stood out like a bota bag to a certain hiker.
And oh yeah, I’d do it again.
All the Best,
Geoff
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Geoff, I have to admit - I had a hard time focusing on your hike because I was thinking about your water bottle in the vehicle! Shoot - I wouldn't walk to the grocery store in Sedona at this time of year without a water bottle! But WOW - spectacular photos!!
Enjoyed the read. Beautiful scenes. Unlike Geoff to throw caution to the wind. As an auxiliary lightweight piece of gear, consider a LifeStraw personal water filter.