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| Hiking | 9.98 Miles |
3,209 AEG |
| | Hiking | 9.98 Miles | 6 Hrs 43 Mns | | 2.16 mph |
| 3,209 ft AEG | 2 Hrs 6 Mns Break | | | |
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| no partners | | There was a Ford parked at the trailhead. Not a truck, it was one of those things that’s not a car but not quite a truck. I parked the Jeep alongside, changed into my boots, and shouldered the day pack. Figured someone was ahead of me on the trail to the cabin. But since there was no HAZ sticker on the Ford, it couldn’t be anyone special.
Headed down the trail; well, up actually. Never been here before but saw the photos of the cabin and thought I’d like to see it for real. Might be a decent backpack someday, so why not scout it on a beautiful day like this.
Can’t say much positive about the trail. It pretty much ain’t ever level and seems comprised of those medium sized rocks that exist only to turn your ankle one way until you step on the next one which of course twists it the other way. Going down is a pain and only exceeded by the suck of going up. But it was still a dang pretty day to be somewhere hiking to somewhere else.
Noticed a ruin right beside the trail and stopped off to explore. It’s not particularly impressive, but any ruin will get attention from me. Found just a few pottery shards, but lots of evidence of rocks being napped into tools. Just so happens I am taking a course which requires me to make a primitive knife, so I rounded up some rocks that looked like they might flake and another one to use as a hammer and took a seat on a couple of larger rocks that sort of served as a natural stool and work bench. I pecked away and soon had a few reasonable flakes that would serve as a blade or scraper at least. Had to smile thinking that perhaps a 1,000 years or so ago some Hohokam may have sat on that same stone stool and, with far more skill than me, napped his new knife or perhaps some arrow points or maybe a scraper for the cute Hohokam girl down the hill.
Just as I was shouldering my pack again, I heard a rustle just up trail. I keep telling my friends that if you never get out you’ll never have the chance to be surprised by anything. The rustle was a young beautiful blonde in head-to-toe camo with a huge pack. Seems she had been uphill “glassing” for her bow-hunting hubby who was just a ways below us. I immediately apologized if I had interfered with their hunt. She said I hadn’t and they were done for the morning anyway, just rendezvousing for lunch since the deer would be going to ground about now. She was all smiles and enthusiasm explaining they get out every day they can but haven’t gotten anything yet this season. Spent a minute explaining that I was headed for the cabin down on the creek, but she didn’t know there was one. I pushed on off and she headed down the ridge away from the trail. Never saw hubby. He may or may not be a good hunter, but he sure made a heck of a catch with her. You just cain’t top personality and camo all wrapped up in a nice package.
Finally made the creek. It was wet for a ways towards the cabin. Found and lost the horse trail more than once. Finally figured out they use shiny beer and soda cans about head high (head high if you are on a horse) as trail markers. That knowledge helped.
Enjoyed poking around the cabin and shed. Had a snack sitting in one of the camp chairs so conveniently left in the cabin. The spring was running nicely. Quiet back here. I could like this place.
The hike out was long, rocky, mostly up hill. I’d seen a little bag of tent stakes trailside and marked the location. If you lost them, I’ve got ‘em. Let me know. The Ford as still at the trailhead. Guess Mr. and Mrs. Hunter were staying for the evening show. I left a note apologizing again if I’d hampered their hunt and wishing them luck.
If you don’t get out there, you’ll never be surprised. |
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Lime Spring |
Gallon per minute |
Gallon per minute |
| | | Good clean water | | _____________________
All you have is your fire...
And the place you need to reach |
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