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| | | How not to do the A. B. Young Trail #100, AZ | | | |
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How not to do the A. B. Young Trail #100, AZ
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| Hiking | 2.40 Miles |
402 AEG |
| | Hiking | 2.40 Miles | | | |
| 402 ft AEG | | | | |
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| no partners | | There is a saying in the Neal family if the navigator says go right, go left. More on that later. Our son and wife moved back from Seattle last year and are living and working in Cottonwood. They are expecting our first grandchild Alston Mikael Neal in October. So the Mrs. thinks it would be nice to spend a couple of nights at the Butterfly Lodge in Oak Creek. Which btw is very nice. Mike says on Sun. he liked to do the A.B. Trail that keeps popping up on his phone. I look at him and go ummm and he says oh no I'm just going up till I feel like turning around. Works for me so Sun. I decide to join him and well we're moving kinda slow. Did I mention he bought me a really nice bottle of mezcal, no not the crap with a worm.
So he says he read that the trail is hard to find but it starts downstream (left) from the parking lot. He immediately goes right and so I wander left through mountains of black berry vines with those lovely thorns (yes I'm wearing shorts). I soon realize the trails through the vines are nothing more than folks looking for berries. I come to a steep section while trying to get to the creek, being careful on the slippery rocks when suddenly my foot catches a vine and YOWSA. It was basically like falling from the 4th step of a staircase, but at almost 65, not good. Fortunately I slammed into a pine tree preventing me from going farther and the 3 foot deep berry vines gave me a mild cushion from the river rocks. A quick check showed no protruding bones, but a fair amount of blood from knee and multiples areas of my body. I looked like I had fallen in a mosh pit of crack addled pikas. I brush myself off and go to look for Mike. He comes around the corner and says I found the trai....what did you do? I said I fell, he asks if I'm okay and did the 3 young women over there see me?...[snicker]. No I still had some dignity, but not much. I made it across the stream without falling, which is a good thing.
The trail cut across a really nice trail that went along the stream but no we will go up. Soon we are out in the open no shade, switchbacks galore and an awesome view if only my glasses weren't perpetually fogged up. Thankfully Mike said lets go down and check the stream trail. When we get back down he stops and goes wow check out those birds. They were like I've never seen before about the size of nuthatches, black with white patches on the wings and ruby red breasts. By the time I retrieve my camera from the backpack they had thoughtfully moved higher to another tree and placed themselves between me and the sun. Mike also pointed out they made a really cool sound and then said oh but you can't hear them can you? ST*U was my only comment. Possibly Blackburnian warblers, which of course we don't have on here and still don't.
We cruised the creek trail a bit and then decided to cross. I said I don't care if I get my boots wet now since we're leaving and of course that was a self-fulfilling prophecy. As Mike pulled me out he said well on the plus side most of your blood on the lower half of your body has washed off. While Mike paused to tie a leash he found to the Dogs Must be on Leash sign I slogged my battered and bloodied body to the parking lot. A Hispanic family had settled into a family picnic area next to our car and the cutest little girl in a bright pink dress and butterfly wings on her back ran up to me smiling and waving. She yelled hola and darted off just like a butterfly, what a great hike. It was the first time in years that Mike and I hiked just the two of us. We laughed, we cried, he laughed, I cried. Oh yeah no photos. |
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