Day Three:
This day’s hike promised to be real. We’d camped (vanned?) only half a mile from the trailhead and so an 8:00 start was easy (but cold - it was still in the 30s when we started hiking, still in the shade of Picketpost Mountain):
We reached sunshine after about two miles, gaining elevation slowly in and out of draws:
Weaver’s Needle still stands out:
Picketpost Mountain is also no slouch for standing above the surrounding terrain. We passed its south end and then used its distance to measure our progress south:
Sometimes a rock is so unique, so ideally placed, that one must stop for snacks and water:
Little Digby was loving the long desert hikes:
Picketpost was waaaay in the background now:
We were blessed by lots of water on what so far had been an easy hike. The dogs always take advantage of lots of water:
It didn’t take long before we reached the day’s first significant way-point, dirt Forest Road 4 (visible in the background of the first photo below). Here’s Jon, in the lead, followed closely by my two traitorous-wretch mutts (following HIM instead of ME - I'm the one who loves and feeds them):
Another perfect boulder was the seat of our next break:
We then followed a canyon two miles to our day’s high point. We started to get some vistas into new terrain:
Among the views was Weaver’s Needle, which still stood out way, way to the north (this would be the last view of it though from the trail):
So far, all of this trip’s hiking had been on trail tread that was both Arizona Trail and Grand Enchantment Trail. That was about to change. Big time.
First we saw the valley in which the trails split from each other while we were up on a saddle:
By way of explanation, The Grand Enchantment Trail is still not all that well established. It’s been planned out and it mostly connects, piece to piece, using already existing trails. But sometimes those already “existing” trails barely exist anymore. And, overall, the trail doesn’t get enough traffic yet to keep the tread in decent shape. I experienced this last year.
At this point, in this valley, the well used Arizona Trail splits to take a different route further east. The different route further east is actually a re-route of the A.Z.T. This re-route was made so that that trail would avoid the White Canyon Wilderness. Avoiding the wilderness was necessary because the A.Z.T. is open to mountain bikers and mechanized forms of transportation are not allowed in wilderness.
What used to be A.Z.T. before the re-route is now the G.E.T. This change happened in 2011.
Of course, we intended and needed to stay on the G.E.T.
Once in the valley shown in the photo above, we tried to follow the guidebook, tried to find a split, and tried to find the G.E.T. But there was no sign of a trail. Or, I should say, there was no sign of the G.E.T. The A.Z.T. was easy to see. A nearby four wheel drive road was also easy to see. But we absolutely couldn’t find the G.E.T. At least one milepost that the guidebook described was not there. The brush and grasses along the washes nearby grow quickly and although we were in the correct wash, no sign of a trail leaving it could be seen. And, finally (and we only realized later, unfortunately) Jon had internet access with his phone (I had none). The map program on Jon’s phone (run by that “G” company) placed the G.E.T. differently than what was shown on the guidebook topo map. Shit.
We did our best to look for anything, anything at all by way of a trail. Nothing. At first we followed the internet map walking up the wash where it showed the trail to be. At least on Jon’s phone, this looked like a trail. It didn’t on the ground though. Zip.
This isn’t good country to move in off-trail. We were in a wash, but it wouldn’t last forever and we needed to find the right way to go. Progress on the trail mattered of course, but turning around wasn’t much of an option at this point (we were more than halfway through a 16 mile day, not to mention the fact that Vicki would now have left reception in her drive around to our pick-up point and there was no way to recall her). Spending the night in sub-freezing temperatures would be dangerous at best. We needed the trail. Crap.
Finally, I just went with my gut. I told Jon where I thought we’d gone wrong and how we could move across what looked like relatively open terrain to where I thought the trail HAD to be. He agreed with me and we started moving. But we were almost half a mile from where I “knew” the trail had to be. And the “open” terrain wasn’t as open as it had looked when we’d viewed it (we couldn’t see the deep and steep gullies we had to cross). We moved, but the whole time we were moving, of course, we were both wondering what to do if the trail wasn’t where it “had” to be?
After what seemed like forever we got close to the saddle where we expected the trail. Nothing came into view. No trail tread was visible. We got 30 feet from the saddle. Nothing. Godammit.
And then I saw something. A duck. Not a bird, a stack of rocks. It couldn’t be there from any source but humans. Jon saw another duck. There was no trail tread at all here, but the more we looked, the more ducks we saw. This had to be it. No trail tread? Well the trail’s been re-routed since 2011 and this trail doesn’t (yet) get much traffic. But stacks of rocks? That’s long been the sign of a trail. We started further east (as the map showed). More ducks! Yep, we were on the “trail,” but it sure wasn’t much of one.
Here’s some shots of where we hiked. Ducks are visible. But trail tread? Hah!
At least most of the ducks were well made and visible for some distance. And occasional tread confirmed that yes, we were on the old A.Z.T., now the G.E.T.:
There's a big difference between walking on a well-established trail and following ducks on a maybe. Our pace had dropped to half of what it had been. But we had daylight (and we had headlamps if we'd needed them). We knew where we were and now it was just a matter of carrying on.
Over a saddle, down to another and then to a third. Moving down a canyon now with no trail tread for most of it. But also with nowhere else to walk than in the canyon. We came to an ancient disused road (basically two faint tracks). This made it easier.
And then our end-point came into view. Or rather the huge mound of a butte that marked the end-point, Battle Axe Butte (no, I’m not making this up):
The trail reaches a dirt road on the north side of Battle Axe (it's visible in the last photo above). That road then circles 270 degrees around its west and south sides. Our "out" point for the day however was around the butte’s east side on that same road (to the left in that same photo). Vicki would be waiting a mile up that road (that’s as far as Jon’s car could reach from Highway 177).
We were soon on the road. Down to Walnut Canyon and a creek crossing there and then Vicki:
We arrived only an hour later than I’d estimated we would. Jon and I agreed that we’d lost that hour while we were lost and trying to find the G.E.T. Certainly all was well. We drove back to Picketpost Trailhead, Vicki and I to spend another night and Jon to catch a flight back from what had been a way too short introduction to a very different type of trail.
