Our excursion was to check out trailheads and terrain for next summer’s hiking in the Pinaleno Mountains, aka Mt. Graham…and have some fun. There is plenty of back country there. There are perennial creeks and falls and lush pine forest. Deciduous trees align the creeks at the lower elevations. The elevations are anywhere from 3000 ft to over 10,000 ft. It is a two hour drive from home in which we carnuded. Here’s the story….
Friday, after shopping, dressed, I arrived at DF’s place about 9:00pm. Stripping, I declared a commitment, if possible, that that would be end of clothing for the next three days. Maybe a cloak or something for the fridged temps at 10,000 feet. I finished the packing, naked in the cover of darkness. A bag and food cooler would be all that would go out in the morning.
We set off down the interstate across Arizona’s southeast. On this day, we would be traveling to Wilcox, a small ranch/farming town, up a farming valley to Ft. Grant, and over Stockton Pass. We would be checking out the lower trailheads and terrain for next summer’s hiking in the Pinaleno Mountains, aka Mt. Graham.
I quickly got dressed in shorts and T to order a sandwich and pump gas at a Wilcox exit. I might as well as just stayed dressed for the short drive to an organic apple orchard for very inexpensive bags of our pick out of four kinds. I showed up and slipped on just shorts. The lady at the stand looked at me funny. Topfree must be unusual in that area.
Fort Grant a correctional facility was creepy. So creepy that my girlfriend (referred to as DF) put on a t-shirt to travel around it, through a residential housing and out a jeep trail to a trailhead that we thought we might leave a car at, to hike down to.
We had two more trailheads to check out as we went across Stockton Pass. There were many people in campers. It was almost crowded. Then, I saw the camouflage and binoculars. Hunting season was on. The next day we saw deer safely on the top of the mountain.
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We had a reservation at the essence of Tranquility Hot Mineral Springs. There are five private tubs of different themes and a public one. Having driven across country naked, I grabbed my bathrobe and arrived at the front desk in that and flip flops, prepared. For a set of good pictures go to their website:
http://www.azhotmineralspring.com/I began to unload the truck and saw a familiar face from Tucson. That was fun. This is a rustic spa. It is very cute the way it is decorated. Each sleeping unit has a theme. Ours was tropical beach. With reeds on the ceiling, Hawaiian flowers and rattan, it was cozy. There was a painting of a boat on a beach spanning the extra wide door looking like a window.
We lay in bed and projected out to sea.
After trying out the heart shaped tub we were wiped out, we laid down awhile, tried the Budda room tub and then had a fine dinner in the rec-room and communal kitchen. I checked the topo maps for the next day’s explorations and clued DF into my research. She was to be the co-pilot, as I drove. Our friend stopped by. She lives just a few minutes from the hotsprings and is an old friend, neighbor, of the owners. We tried out the larger deeper pool together for an extended period. We used foam noodles to float in the wonderfully soothing mineral waters. Its decor reminded me of the hot spring baths in Japan, when I was a kid.
We went back to the room and talked until midnight. She went home and we watched Don Juan with Johnny Dep and Marlon Brando, me obliged to imitate his lines and moves while DF laughed at me.
We slept as long as we liked, had breakfast, did another soak in yet another two tubs, and packed ourselves down the road in a pleasant mood.
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For the next day, the plan was to run the 32 miles with minimal stopping, marking the driving times and then stop for fuller exploration on the way back. The road is totally switch backs many at less than 20mph. About half of the road is dirt. It took us nearly two hours. We were to be at our friends before sundown. There were constraints.
The truck was warm. We opened the moon roof and gaged the cooler temps by sticking our hands up and out. The air was good on naked bodies. We cruised through many types of pine and aspen. The fall was just starting at the base in the valley. Then elevation brought us into the fall colors as we ascended. The air cooled even more from there, about 17F degrees cooler at the top and 30Fdegrees cooler from the valley below.
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We stopped at a potential out of car campsite . It is off of the bend of a road, where a trail goes up next to a creek to two fallen trees. There is a flat area for a tent. We parked and stretched. The crisp air was invigorating and calm. I grabbed my five fingers shoes and walked over to sit on a log to put them on. We walked back a bit further and photographed the creek, WITH WATER! The air had a wonderful aroma, but when I picked up a large pinecone, it stuck globs of aromatic pine on my fingers that wouldn’t go away. There was more driving ahead.
Where the fires had gone through a few years ago, groves of small aspen, so thick that one couldn’t walk through them, were growing on each side of the road amongst ancient Ponderosa, blue spruce and many more. Occasionally, the valley thousands of feet below appeared and then the vista stretched out past Tucson to the west, or southeast into Mexico and Texas. There was awe. We reached Riggs lake, an 11 acre pond and stepped out for lunch. It was winter there. I got to try out my stay warm backpacking outfit. It worked. Sometimes naked ain’t in the cards. We sat on two stumps at the waters edge, eating and watching. The winds picked up. The chill factor must have been easily low 30’s F.
We took photos for future reference at each point of trail or campground. I needed to explore the round the mountain trail a bit. There is a four-wheel drive trail back to the trailhead. This trail then connects with three other hiking trails. The road was blocked by a fallen tree, approximately ¾ of the way there. We got out and walked. I stopped DF in her tracks and had her just listen. It was calm, serene, and greatly untouched. A howl like a waterfall could be heard in the distance and slowly was winding up the canyon through the trees. It was wind. It came dancing up to us as we watched its influence on the trees each in turn. This place is going to be perfect next year when things warm up again.
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There are numerous potentials in the Pinaleno Mountains; too many to explore in just one day. This will become a huge playground for us. I have topo maps of the northern base of the mountain and I wanted to look at the potential for the trailheads and camping, both out of a backpack and the truck. Perhaps we might hike down a canyon from top to bottom. Most trails are very steep.
We had to hurry back to arrive at our friend’s in the foothills of the north face. We needed light to orient, unpack and then have dinner. The arrival timing was perfect.
We drove further north on the highway toward Safford and found our turnoff. We passed into a desert creosote forest and into a mesquite basque flood plain. She lives amongst the confluence of canyon washes at around 3000 ft. She has been there for 30 years, now. As we pulled through the gate, to the right was an old double decker hippie bus and then another shortly later, like Ken Kesey’s Further, with tires flattening. Venturing further, we came across her two yurts. These two canvas structures are thirty years old. She has been rolling elastomeric roof coating on them and these five year life expectancy cloths are strong as ever. We found her truck, parked and headed for the 20 foot diameter yurt that sits up a set of steps, high above the ground on a platform supported by heavy post. I was delighted. She had told me previously that she has found many friends disrobing at her gate. I arrived barefoot all over. The soil in this flood plain is soft and without rocks, nor pebbles. I remained as such, mostly, from then on, savoring each delightful mindful step.
Our friend came out of her door to greet us. Dressed. For an unknown reason, I felt kind of naked and out of place. The other two were dressed, but these are two women, which whom I have spent many hours with nude. I got over it. She invited us into a most wondrous anachronism of the sixties. The yurt was very roomy, with a huge bed under a loft. The wooden rafters all pointed to a skylight high above. The walls were covered with bureaus and lady’s fun clothing. I love the feel of a circular yurt.
She directed us outside after a few minutes to acquaint us with the situation. Around the back, a porch extended into a cottonwood tree, with leaves turning gold. There was a nest up high. She told us that a family of red hawks had been living there and tales of their offspring.
This place is earthy and practical. It radiates a free culture and attitude. It has the healthy pioneer spirit that settled this country. It adapts to the land and circumstances. We saw the other yurt, one 24 foot diameter, where we would be sleeping. It had parachute cloth on the ceiling and felt remarkably spacious. It had an old pot-belly stove with wood piled next to it. Two large windows sat across from each other. A bed frame and a futon were covered with numerous quilts. She had spent the day vacuuming and readying it for our visit. Prayer flags looped around the ceiling and family pictures brought a sense of a home to it. The next stop, across the bridge, was a large stone counter with a concrete top. It was for preparing food and washing dishes. Next to it was yet another old school bus. Inside this one, was a kitchen with a solar refrigerator and propane stove and custom cabinets. Just outside, was a shed with an array of solar batteries. She has been living off of the grid for many years. The next stop amazed me. She had told me of her bathhouse before, but I didn’t expect this. It is made from river stone. To one side there is a small door for the large sauna/sweat room. On the other an open bathroom with twin showers, a claw leg tub, and more.
We got settled and had a wonderful potluck meal. She had prepared for a sweat. The wood burning tanks had been heating long enough. The air had cooled and I had been wearing a medieval woolen cloak to be naked, but warm. I dropped it to share the steam room. She had a hose with a spray nozzle which quickly created steam and heat. All evening I would hear the whoosh sound of the spray hitting the hot iron pipes like an industrial boiler room, as the heat would rise. We spent hours in and out of there, taking breaks to cool, lying in recliners nude, watching the skies. A half moon was bright, leaving a few distinct stars, then clouds crept in to cover it. After time, these clouds dispersed into vast fingers, expanding from a point in the east, crossing to the western sky, finally uncovering the moon once again.
About mid evening, the manager of the hot springs came over on a break from cleaning the pools, to join us. He gifted a few trays of various delicious fresh sprouts, which we clear cut the next day. Also, he brought some lemon BEER.
I scraped down my pores with a tough rag. I occasionally rinsed with the cooler water from the spray nozzle, a sort of quick cold plunge. Inside the bathhouse, the claw leg tub was filled with cold water to soak in. Back and forth, back and forth for more. I achieved the desired results.
We finally went to our yurt, collapsing on the futon bed and just sat and looked at the anachronistic world, “flashing-back” to times of youthful experiences and dreams. We reflected on changes through life. She had lit incense for us. The aroma was divinely pleasant. We slept comfortably like two logs jammed in a soft slurry, until daylight began to beam into the structure.
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I stepped out the round portholed door into another perfect morning, which lead to a perfect day, eventually in the mid 80’sF. Framed by the huge mesquite, I was struck by how good life was, as I, bared of everything, wandered around on the soft earth, feeling the sun. I walked down the paths, dirt roads and driveway. I visited the quaint yet impressively crafted buses and piles of materials. I took photos.
We were eating breakfast, as our hostess came to see us at a table under a canopy. We had tea and told her that we had sincerely decided that she was probably the most gracious of any, or all hostesses. We knew that she had spent days cleaning, as she mentioned that, “I never go in there.” She said that she needed to do that anyway, she was glad get the push to do it. We commented on how she ran the sweat as we relaxed, she told us that she was grateful to have someone here to share it with, to make the effort worthwhile. We stated our intention to help her with any chores, but we all went for a nice nude hike up stream to explore, instead. She said that it would get her to get back to hiking more.
We began walking through the forest of mesquite and weeds coming out onto a trail that lead us to yet another old school bus, where one neighbor was starting a living environment. Then after that, passing an artist studio, where our friend sometimes goes to use the more efficient smaller wood sweat with them. We came upon a fine stone house owned by yet two more artists. The open front door revealed a small antique travel trailer in the center. They had lived in it, while using the local stones to build their home around it. It was now the kitchen and sitting as if a piece of camp art, or a valued museum piece on display.
We went on. The next neighbor was at home, working on a new sheltering building. Our friend shouted, announcing, “Warning, naked people coming through.” He just smiled, as she told him that we were going for a hike.
We went on into the Arizona Trust lands, through a gate. The trust is very abused. Immediately the vegetation became much less diverse and the mesquite and ground tortured. A rancher rents this area from the state to raise cattle. He had destroyed a water pond used by wildlife recently, by grading away a very old aqueduct and letting cattle over use it. He had been grading illegal roads the same way. Disgusting.
We went past this, and up a rocky stream bed, passing the shade of a few cottonwoods, before turning back. Pretty pleasant going for most of the three miles out and then back, no backup clothing, just shoes, my hat, water and camera. We had traversed over and into a canyon with the magnificent Pinalenos rising above.
We looped down a dirt access road to an amazing find. Our friend had had an archeologist visit. This place had been a trading center for the Native Americans. There were so many pottery chards that we couldn’t walk without stepping on some. It was from all over. Several tribes had traded here. I recognized some as from other places at different times. There was a rock foundation for a hut. There are channels for irrigation where they grew crops. We browsed the pottery naked, where other naked people had met with these same pots hundreds of years before.
We returned and ate a fine meal once again. We discussed alternative home construction and the new stone house that she wants to build. The sun went down. It got cold fast and I put on clothes again. Even pants. How disconcerting! We drove to Wilcox, and gassed up. The heater was on, the truck warm, so we got rid of the silly clothes. We ended our three day freerange adventure at home, unloaded, showered, bed.
Hopefully, I can post a couple of pictures out of so many. One is looking down Grant Creek Canyon to Ft. Grant and then way out southwest. The Pinalenos are sacred to the Native Americans. Spirits dance up there, so one quirk photo with imagination later....
Jbeegoode
