Galiuro Wilderness - Deer Creek Trail

I don't consider myself much of a 'blogger'. So - long story short - I took a hike to where I thought I was, but wasn't. Made for an interesting weekend journey into the Galiuro Wilderness in southeast Arizona.

Ron says that he 'glanced' at the map, but neither of us paid it much attention. I guess we just figured we figure it out.

Didn't matter much anyhow. The scenery was amazing...

...but the trails were difficult to follow. We lost the trail and had to bushwack our way.





We definately could've used a few more of these!

Southern-Most Ski Resort in the Nation...

...And the winner is... Mt. Lemon's Ski Valley!


I'm not even kidding. We've got our very own ski resort right here in Tucson! One double chair, 13 runs, and this winter we even have snow. Last weekend's storms dumped roughly 14 inches of fresh snow on the peaks and with the reasonably cold weather we had this week, north facing slopes kept their accumulation. Add in the dusting of almost 2 inches Thursday, and you've got snowboarding at the southernmost ski resort in the Nation.




Sure there were some exposed boulders here an there. Sure there were a bunch of drunk desert rats doing thier best to get in my way. Sure Kenny G made a guest appearance. But nothing was stopping me from enjoying my second weekend of riding in Arizona (see my previous blog entry for details on the Sunrise trip).

It was frickin' fabulous. I wish you all were there. Maybe you were...

An Accidental 3-Day Weekend!

What an epic weekend. Scott and I ducked out a bit early Friday and headed north - bound for the Sunrise. Tucson was wet, clouds shrouded the Catalinas, and we craved the fresh powder that we new would be blanketing the White Mountains. We took the scenic route out of Tucson, past Globe and onward into the Salt River Canyon. The canyon itself was sacked in with fog, making the sinuous highway a bit trecherous as we descended to the Salt River and then crawled northward up numerous hairpin turns through the pinion-juniper and up into the pine forests on the Mogollon Rim.


The weather gradually changed from rain to sleet and finally snow as we neared Show Low. We stayed at our pal Mike's place, crashing almost immediately upon arriving at his place in Concho.

We spent the next two days riding some of the best powder I've seen in a long, long time. It snowed both days - creating a never ending sea of fresh turns on Sunrise and Apache peaks. Pure heaven. Unless you've experienced it, there is really no way to describe the feeling of making turns in 3+ feet of fresh powder.







Somewhere along the way, we lost any sense of heading home, and by the time we decided to head out on Sunday, the storm of the year pummeled the Whites - leaving around 8 inches of fresh snow over the ice-glazed highway. We crept along, passing through Show Low and heading south towards the Salt River Canyon once again. The wind howled, the snow drifted, and we inched closer and closer to the edge of the Mogollon Rim and the steep abyss that lay ahead. As we neared the drop, we noticed an unusually heavy amount of traffic headed northward back towards Show Low. A short time later, we found ourselves headed back the way we'd come, turned back from the Salt River Canyon with a road closure due to "Extreme Winter Driving Conditions".

Luckily, we made it safely back to Mike's. We crashed and finally got a clear shot at the canyon this morning. Along the way, we saw 4 cars being towed from the ditches along the highway.

There's something to be said for the accidental three-day weekend!

Aggressive Negotiations

On Saturday I met up with my realtor and looked at a few places in Catalina. The first was a nice little house on 0.5 acres. It wasn't anything special, but it was well maintained and had a great view of the Catalina Mountains from the backyard. We looked at a few loser mobiles (puke), and finally a small house on 1 acre. It had tremendous views. Four ranges could be seen from the deck - the Catalina, Tortolita, Tucson, and Sierrita Mountains. You could literally sit on that deck all day and watch the sun rise and then set. The view caught my interest right away. The house itself was nice – open floor plan, sky-lights in the kitchen, two bedrooms and two bathrooms, etc. It was a bit bigger than the first house and the property was lush with native vegetation and avifauna - quail running through the yard and thrashers and wrens calling from their cholla and palo verde perches.

I pondered a potential offer Saturday night and today, I met with my realtor to write up an offer. Let me set this up for you a bit. A series of important details indicated to me that I could go in with a very aggressive offer. First of all, the house has been on the market for almost 4 months. Secondly, the listing stated that the owner was very motivated and that all offers were welcome. And then there was the little slip their realtor made in mentioning that they'd had very few showings.

So much to the chagrin of my realtor (I could actually hear him sigh over the phone), I decided to offer $40k below the asking price. Gutsy eh? Well, you have to realize that I am in absolutely no hurry to get myself into a mortgage on an overvalued piece of property - especially in this market. Yeah, the view was spectacular, but there are other properties in the same area that would suit me just as well. So no, I didn't have-to-have this particular house. Also, I have a very ideal living situation right now that does not force me to make a hasty decision. I feel that I have the upper hand in this one. I don't expect them to take my offer outright, but I do expect them to come down a bit. I have no idea what type of response I'll get, but I feel like I really have nothing to lose. We'll see what happens…

Looking east towards the Catalina Moutnains:

Just Short of Hell's Hole

Last weekend I decided that I was going to do a short backpacking weekend in the Tonto National Forest. I set out after work on Friday, winding my way from up from the Sonoran Desert to the pine and juniper covered mountains north of Roosevelt Lake. I traveled solo, as I usually do on these whimsical excursions into the wilderness. My destination was a small campsite at the trailhead to Hell's Hole, a short section of canyon where Workman Creek has cut deep into the bedrock for thousands of years. Slowly the creek's waters have eroded the canyon walls, creating a deep fissure with exposed granite walls and a 45 foot waterfall. All of this sounded like a great weekend adventure - one that I could not resist.

I made it to the trailhead as the sun began to disappear behind the mountain peaks and the cold chill descended into the canyon. At one point in the night, I checked the temperature. It was a cool 32 ºF. I went straight to work gathering wood and getting a small fire started. After warming up, I laid out my bedroll, had a few sips of whiskey while watching the fire, and finally fell asleep.

I woke early and set out on the Reynolds Trail, which took me up an old jeep trail into the forest. After a short distance I came to a forest sign – and yes, I was on the right trail! I continued along the trail, climbing its gradual slope until cresting a ridge. The trail then descended through a ponderosa pine forest interspersed with manzanita, emory oak, and alligator juniper. The day was cool, but small gaps in the forest canopy let through sunlight, creating warm spots on the forest floor. Eventually, the trail bottomed out at Reynolds Creek, which was flowing. I crossed the creek, and then began to climb over a second ridge that led me to a scrubby knoll and the Boyer Trail junction. I continued on the Reynolds Trail, enjoying full access to the sun's warming rays.

Moments later, I heard some movement just off the left side of the trail about 30 feet ahead. The thick brush masked the identity of the mover, but from the snapping twigs and crunching leaves, it sounded large and I thought I might get an opportunity to see an elk or deer. I slowly inched forward to get a better angle. I could not see what was making the ruckus, but I could hear it moving. Suddenly, I heard a sound that I don't think I could even describe. All I can say is that I'd never heard the sound before, and that it startled me quite a bit. At the very moment this shrill screech pierced my peaceful mid-morning saunter, all hell broke loose.

The movement of three animals exploded in the scrubby thicket ahead of me on the trail. I could make out two of the animals flushing away from me by the crashing sound of quick movement through thick vegetation. I did not see either of these individuals. The third animal was easily identified as it flushed in my direction. At first I was in shock, maybe awe, maybe both. For what seemed like minutes, I stood there not believing what my eyes were seeing. In reality, that split second of paralyzing disbelief quickly gave way to the realization that I was in trouble. I have to admit that despite some harrowing experiences with wildlife in the past, this particular experience hit me the hardest - maybe because I was alone, maybe because of the proximity. Irregardless, my shock turned to panic as I realized that running down the trail, in my direction, was a mountain lion. The short distance between us closed very quickly and at about 20 feet, I raised my hands in the air and began shouting gibberish at the lion. Somewhere the warning to "not run" if confronted by a lion had burned itself into my subconscious. I stood my ground, all the while knowing that one-on-one, my money was on the lion. Fortunately my tactic worked, and the lion quickly bolted off the trail and disappeared into the forest. I quickly reached down and grabbed two softball sized rocks. Speaking some strange adrenaline inspired language, I shouted and banged my rocks together. I tried to make as much noise as I could until I was able to back down the trail. At this point, my senses seemed to be on heightened alert and every little rustle of leaves was a lion stalking me through the forest. I was honestly freaked out.

Long story short, I decided to forgo Hell's Hole and I backtracked to the truck. I sat at the trailhead for well over an hour – still buzzing from the encounter. For better or worse, I'd been turned away from Hell's Hole. But this only means that I will have to return. I have a feeling that I will be back there this summer – I'll let you know how it goes.

Game 2 Hockey Highlights

Steve and I hit the Icecats game last night and were pleasantly surprised by an intense third period. The first two periods were, well pathetic. This ain't no hockey I'm used to, especially coming down from Minnesota. It's a "dump and chase" philosophy down here - and plenty of cheap shots abound (to the deviant glee of the fans). But the Icecats do have a great asset in their junior goaltender Luke Edwall from (where else) Minnetonka, Minnesota. Edwall definately gets the MVP award from me (see below).


The Sun Devils dominated the first two periods of play, giving Edwall lots of action in the goals.



The Icecats had a few chances but failed to capitalize for the first two periods of play, entering the third with a two goal deficit.



By the end of the third period the Icecats had tied it at two and after an uneventful overtime period, it went to a shoot out. This clip is the first blood drawn by the Icecats.



Then the Sun Devils had one last chance to end it with a tie. And well, take a look...



Luke Edwall with the game winning save. Nice job Luke. Now if only the rest of the team could learn the game a bit!