Deviled and Scrambled - January 29, 2017
(Note from Jan: I really did enjoy this hike. I mean, what doesn’t kill you makes for a fun story… Right!?)
On Sunday, January 22, our pastor said that he wanted us to come back next week more battered and bruised than we were on this day. I guess Laurence took this literally – or so it seemed on our Sunday afternoon hike that day.
Here is the edited version of the description he sent to the Yikes Hikes group – all five of us. (There are over 350 people in our Green Valley RV Park who are invited. That might tell you something right there.)
This 5.5-mile peak climb and loop is around—and up—some protruding ridges directly south of Little Elephant Head. … From the trailhead (at 4000 feet) we’ll follow “use trails” to the ridge, and then up the ridge to the peak at 4900 feet, probably with some bushwhacking, and avoiding prickle bushes. From there we’ll have cool views … The climb to the peak and back down to the road is about one mile. So, we climb 900 feet in half a mile. We’ll take it easy and rest for water and pictures. Once back at the road we’ll continue our loop around the Devil’s Cash Box.
OK, so what you need to get from this is that we were planning to do a 5.5-mile hike – only one mile of it was climbing up and down the Devil’s Cash Box. And that there might be SOME bushwhacking and SOME prickles. My spidey senses should have started tingling at the mention of “900 feet in half a mile.” Two of our group declined to do the hike; our friend Sam came with Elvie, Laurence, and me to do the hike (or call 911), minus the one mile diversion to the top of Devil’s Cash Box.
The first part of the climb was OK. There appeared to be a trail and the climb was fairly gentle. But it went downhill (actually, uphill) from there. We were aiming for the peak – the one that Laurence warned us might be a “false” peak (meaning there was a higher peak hidden behind it) – but we were not able to travel as the crow flies. No sirree. There was no path but there were lots of big rocks, unstable little rocks, big spiny cacti, and small prickly cacti.
But we made it! To what was, as it turns out, the first peak. We took turns pulling spines and prickles out of each other with tweezers and duct tape. Thankfully our friend Elvie has known us for 34 years and is a registered nurse. Otherwise Laur and I wouldn’t have been able to sit down to have our lunch. I didn’t sit for long – a lone killer bee decided to dive-bomb me, repeatedly. I expect not many humans come this way – and he simply needed some practice.
Laur asked if we were “in” to climb up to the “real” peak. Elvie is part mountain goat so she was game; I just said “in for a penny, in for a pound.” This climb was steeper, and the rocks and cacti were even less forgiving. At one point, I looked to my left and it was a drop off of some 500 feet. Said I, “I didn’t need to see this.”
Finally, we made it … only to see peak three laughing at us. By now I was just getting plain irritable with the Devil’s Cash Box. I snarled, “In for a pound, in for a tonne.”
Peaks one and two were a cakewalk compared to three. At one point, we had to crawl up the face of it. Laurence had assured us at the beginning of the hike that at least we probably wouldn’t have to “scramble.” (Scrambling is "a walk up steep terrain involving the use of one's hands".) But we did something awfully close to that. Without mitts and dragging our hiking poles. Ouch! And gangway!
But make it we did, really, to the actual peak, and the view was beautiful. Mountains and blue sky, rocks and cacti. Not exactly novel, I know – but I do love it so. And now the trip back down. Scrambling down-mountain is not as “easy” as scrambling up. I did a lot of it on my “behind” – sometimes by choice, sometimes by falling. By the time we reached our friend Sam, who was waiting for (and chuckling at) us at the bottom, all three of us were stabbed or cut and bleeding from somewhere.
I was not game to then continue on for the rest of the hike – another 4.5 miles – even though much of it was on a flat established trail. It had taken us 3 hours to do that one mile – it was in the middle of the afternoon – and you do not want to be hiking when the sun sets. Or at least I didn’t want to be.
Laurence came up with a third option – we could trek for an hour near an old picnic ground at the other end of Devil’s Cash Box. Sam – I expect knowing something we didn’t – declined this hike as well, and offered to drive our car to the point where we should come out.
Off we went and soon hit a veritable wall of cacti that we had to maneuver our way through – trying not to land on the cow pies that were plentiful, seeing as a rancher’s herd also took this route. Then we ended up in a “wash.” (A wash, is a dry creek, stream bed or gulch that temporarily or seasonally fills and flows after sufficient rain.) When there has been a lot of rain – like there has been lately – these can fill up within seconds if a surge of water goes through. If you hear something like a “boom” you have ten seconds to get to high ground or else be washed away. Walking through the thick, heavy sand of a gulch is not easy street. Thankfully our intrepid leader decided it might be easier walking along the topside of the gulch. It wasn’t, we were back to rubble and cacti and dung, but at least we weren’t at risk of drowning.
I was very glad to see Sam and our car. He was having a great chat with two avid cyclists and hikers who were just starting out on the 4.5 mile hike I had begged off from. They’ve “bagged” many of the local peaks and are always looking for new adventures. Oh, and they are in their 80s.
They may well have given Laur their emails so that he could invite them to go Yikes Hiking with us – but I think our showing up covered with dried blood and desiccated cowflop, might have warned them off.
On Sunday, January 22, our pastor said that he wanted us to come back next week more battered and bruised than we were on this day. I guess Laurence took this literally – or so it seemed on our Sunday afternoon hike that day.
Here is the edited version of the description he sent to the Yikes Hikes group – all five of us. (There are over 350 people in our Green Valley RV Park who are invited. That might tell you something right there.)
This 5.5-mile peak climb and loop is around—and up—some protruding ridges directly south of Little Elephant Head. … From the trailhead (at 4000 feet) we’ll follow “use trails” to the ridge, and then up the ridge to the peak at 4900 feet, probably with some bushwhacking, and avoiding prickle bushes. From there we’ll have cool views … The climb to the peak and back down to the road is about one mile. So, we climb 900 feet in half a mile. We’ll take it easy and rest for water and pictures. Once back at the road we’ll continue our loop around the Devil’s Cash Box.
OK, so what you need to get from this is that we were planning to do a 5.5-mile hike – only one mile of it was climbing up and down the Devil’s Cash Box. And that there might be SOME bushwhacking and SOME prickles. My spidey senses should have started tingling at the mention of “900 feet in half a mile.” Two of our group declined to do the hike; our friend Sam came with Elvie, Laurence, and me to do the hike (or call 911), minus the one mile diversion to the top of Devil’s Cash Box.
The first part of the climb was OK. There appeared to be a trail and the climb was fairly gentle. But it went downhill (actually, uphill) from there. We were aiming for the peak – the one that Laurence warned us might be a “false” peak (meaning there was a higher peak hidden behind it) – but we were not able to travel as the crow flies. No sirree. There was no path but there were lots of big rocks, unstable little rocks, big spiny cacti, and small prickly cacti.
But we made it! To what was, as it turns out, the first peak. We took turns pulling spines and prickles out of each other with tweezers and duct tape. Thankfully our friend Elvie has known us for 34 years and is a registered nurse. Otherwise Laur and I wouldn’t have been able to sit down to have our lunch. I didn’t sit for long – a lone killer bee decided to dive-bomb me, repeatedly. I expect not many humans come this way – and he simply needed some practice.
Laur asked if we were “in” to climb up to the “real” peak. Elvie is part mountain goat so she was game; I just said “in for a penny, in for a pound.” This climb was steeper, and the rocks and cacti were even less forgiving. At one point, I looked to my left and it was a drop off of some 500 feet. Said I, “I didn’t need to see this.”
Finally, we made it … only to see peak three laughing at us. By now I was just getting plain irritable with the Devil’s Cash Box. I snarled, “In for a pound, in for a tonne.”
Peaks one and two were a cakewalk compared to three. At one point, we had to crawl up the face of it. Laurence had assured us at the beginning of the hike that at least we probably wouldn’t have to “scramble.” (Scrambling is "a walk up steep terrain involving the use of one's hands".) But we did something awfully close to that. Without mitts and dragging our hiking poles. Ouch! And gangway!
But make it we did, really, to the actual peak, and the view was beautiful. Mountains and blue sky, rocks and cacti. Not exactly novel, I know – but I do love it so. And now the trip back down. Scrambling down-mountain is not as “easy” as scrambling up. I did a lot of it on my “behind” – sometimes by choice, sometimes by falling. By the time we reached our friend Sam, who was waiting for (and chuckling at) us at the bottom, all three of us were stabbed or cut and bleeding from somewhere.
I was not game to then continue on for the rest of the hike – another 4.5 miles – even though much of it was on a flat established trail. It had taken us 3 hours to do that one mile – it was in the middle of the afternoon – and you do not want to be hiking when the sun sets. Or at least I didn’t want to be.
Laurence came up with a third option – we could trek for an hour near an old picnic ground at the other end of Devil’s Cash Box. Sam – I expect knowing something we didn’t – declined this hike as well, and offered to drive our car to the point where we should come out.
Off we went and soon hit a veritable wall of cacti that we had to maneuver our way through – trying not to land on the cow pies that were plentiful, seeing as a rancher’s herd also took this route. Then we ended up in a “wash.” (A wash, is a dry creek, stream bed or gulch that temporarily or seasonally fills and flows after sufficient rain.) When there has been a lot of rain – like there has been lately – these can fill up within seconds if a surge of water goes through. If you hear something like a “boom” you have ten seconds to get to high ground or else be washed away. Walking through the thick, heavy sand of a gulch is not easy street. Thankfully our intrepid leader decided it might be easier walking along the topside of the gulch. It wasn’t, we were back to rubble and cacti and dung, but at least we weren’t at risk of drowning.
I was very glad to see Sam and our car. He was having a great chat with two avid cyclists and hikers who were just starting out on the 4.5 mile hike I had begged off from. They’ve “bagged” many of the local peaks and are always looking for new adventures. Oh, and they are in their 80s.
They may well have given Laur their emails so that he could invite them to go Yikes Hiking with us – but I think our showing up covered with dried blood and desiccated cowflop, might have warned them off.