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| Backpack | 16.00 Miles |
1,500 AEG |
| | Backpack | 16.00 Miles | 1 Day | | |
| 1,500 ft AEG | | | | |
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| no partners | | About twelve years ago I made a visit to Petrified Forest National Park. My overall impression was that it was kind of boring. At the time I didn't really understand what a petrified forest was (you mean it's not an actual forest?), and I never ventured too far away from my car to enjoy the park to its fullest potential. Well, that certainly wasn't the case for this trip. This was my first solo backpack and, not counting an ASU-sponsored trip to Havasu Canyon over a decade ago, my first backpacking experience of any kind.
My reason for choosing the Painted Desert was due to its location in a national park. I've been wanting to try backpacking for a while, but haven't felt comfortable with being out in the wild all alone. Choosing a national park, where I had to check in with a ranger and leave a description of my trip and an estimated time of return assuaged some of my fears. Thankfully, that didn't make the trip any less adventurous.
From The Painted Desert Inn at Kachina Point I dropped down into Arizona's badlands. They're similar to the badlands I visited in North Dakota and Montana last month, but with more color and less vegetation. They're still rugged, windswept and muddy though. My first stop was Onyx Bridge, easy enough to find with the GPS coordinates, but kind of a letdown. I guess I was expecting something bigger. When I heard "bridge" I was expecting something that I could walk across. Something that actually traversed over something. There are bigger petrified logs in the park, but most of them are spliced into segments. The only unique feature about this one is that it's one whole log.
After Onyx Bridge I continued north and then contoured west toward Pilot Rock. Going this way allowed me to avoid the most rugged part of the Black Forest Wilderness. About one mile from Pilot Rock I dropped my gear and marked the waypoint on the map. I wasn't going to carry all my gear to the top of Pilot Rock so I soldiered on, carrying only water and food. It took some time to figure out an ascent route, but I eventually made it to the summit of the highest point in Petrified Forest National Park. From the top you get to see just how vast the Painted Desert really is. West of Pilot Rock you can see where the high plains just drop off into the pink dunes of the Painted Desert, which stretches as far as the eye can see. This is definitely seldom-visited terrain. There were only two other entries in the summit register in the past 18 months. I added my name, but didn't realize until I dropped down from the summit that I forgot to include the date of my visit. Oh well, I wasn't going back just for that.
Returning to pick up my gear, I proceeded east toward the heart of the Black Forest. The sun was starting to set. I knew navigating my way across the badlands at dusk would prove to be difficult so I looked for a spot to set up camp. The land here can be very flat, but it's also very windy. I struggled setting up my tent for almost 45 minutes. Just when I thought I had it, the wind lifted the stakes out of the ground and pulled one of the tent poles loose, causing the whole thing to collapse on top of me. I chose to move on in the dark (admittedly not a smart move) and find a better spot. Eventually I settled in a less windy area. Instead of using the tent I just laid out my tarp and rolled myself up in the sleeping bag, sleeping under the stars.
I awoke at first light and packed up my gear. Crossing those hills turned out to be a real challenge. At one point I had to throw my pack down below me and scoot my way down a hill on my butt. Eventually, I found a small drainage. I snaked my way through it until it lead to a wide wash on the east side of the Black Forest. From there it was flat terrain until the final climb back to the Painted Desert Inn. It was quite the experience. It truly is another world down there, unlike any other terrain I've ever traversed in Arizona. I enjoyed backpacking, but my body and feet are hurting two days later. Like everything else, it's probably something I'll have to do a few times just to get used to. |
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"I've driven across deserts, driven by the irony, that only being shackled to the road could ever I be free"
- Frank Turner "The Road" |
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