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| | | Lone Pine Hill & West Baldy & Sacaton Mountain, NM | | | |
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Lone Pine Hill & West Baldy & Sacaton Mountain, NM
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| Hiking | 16.18 Miles |
6,183 AEG |
| | Hiking | 16.18 Miles | 12 Hrs 38 Mns | | 1.36 mph |
| 6,183 ft AEG | 44 Mns Break | | | |
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| no partners | | Day 2 – Gila Trip Gone Wrong
The bulk of the hikes I’d planned took off from Bursum Road [aka Rt. 159], a major access point in the Gilas and particularly for some of the big-gun 10,000+ footers, including none other than the wilderness highpoint, Whitewater Baldy. Since first having hiked in that area in May of 2016, I’ve been waiting for the right opportunity to go back; not only is it an amazingly beautiful area, the ‘unfinished business factor’ ( of having to terminate a 10 day trip there after just 4 days - [ triplog ] ), was definitely eating away at me. Thus, after some pre-trip calls to some folks in Gila wilderness office, [and the less than accurate information they gave to me…], I once again headed off to the West side of the Gilas with big plans… little did I knows those plans would once again get crashed [but for very different reasons].
Knowing what a slow-go the narrow, twisty Bursum Road is, I decided to do a Gila hike that takes off along one of the shorter access roads along Hwy 180 for my Day 2 hike; then post-hike head up Bursum. As fate would have it, that never happened either…
…things started off exceptionally well / as planned: I launched from the Trailhead for the Little Dry Creek Trail #180 and took that trail for just under 1 mile before bushwhacking up and onto a ridge paralleling it to the East, where I connected with a jeep road. The short bushwhack of just under 1/4 mile was quite steep but exceptionally well routed, and I was really enjoying the opportunity for a great off-trail, leg-/lung-busting kind of workout… [vs. a constant brush battle like many of my bushwhacks from previous trips to the Gilas]. Upon reaching the jeep road, the views really start to open up and kept getting better as I climbed higher; in fact, this adventure would probably make my top 10 list for having the best overall views.
Less than 0.10 miles after connecting with the jeep road, I took a very short side trip up an exceptionally well-defined route to hit up UN 7130, which is right next to the jeep road and proved to be a fun little detour. Upon reconnecting with the jeep road, I continued for about 0.60 mi before once again heading off-trail; this time to bag the first of my three primary targets: Lone Pine Hill. From the topo maps, I expected this to be a little bump along the way, [similar to UN 7130]. While it’s certainly little compared to what the Gilas have to offer, it definitely proved to be more than a little bump. With a very steep slope and loose footing that had me sliding for nearly the entire ascent and constantly grabbing for rocks / tree branches [in addition to using two trekking poles], this little hill definitely gave me a run for the money and proved to be more tiring than some of the much longer & steeper slopes that had excellent footing. Given that negotiating loose footing is my weakness, I was very glad for a super short & easy descent off the other end of the peak; [my planned route basically involved traversing up the ridge that incorporates Lone Pine Hill, West Baldy, and Sacaton Mountain; then returning by way of the trail].
The next bump on the ridge was UN 8201, and the ascent could not have been more pleasant: excellent footing, minimal brush, tons of routes, and a relatively gradual grade [but still steep enough to offer a great workout]. Upon reaching UN 8201, the views REALLY open up and continue to get better, [while ‘the going’ begins to get less than smooth]… although the next stretch of ridgeline is relatively level, the brush definitely slows the pace. Nothing is overly thick; but given that the primary offender was a catclaw-like shrub that was constantly grabbing & jabbing, the ‘smooth sailing’ was definitely over.
Shortly in to the final ascent of West Baldy, the brush lets up and things rather instantly go from one extreme to the other: excellent footing but having to deal with tons of the catclaw-like shrub… to praying for having some brush [even thorny brush!] within feet [vs. yards] in order grab & help combat the ‘avalanche factor’… :eek: In addition to heading up a very steep slope, the footing in this section consisted almost exclusively of loose rock, [most of which ranged in size from that of a tennis ball to that of a basket ball]. Even the few rocks that appeared to be well balanced would start to give out the moment I began to transfer my weight; and to top things off, they would also trigger many other surrounding rocks to begin rolling downward. This was NOT a fun stretch to put it mildly, and my heart was skipping beats in many places… I would perform Class 4+ climbs and/or negotiate the equivalent of Class 3+ loose footing before repeating a stretch like this one with loose rocks. With a super steep slope that lacked ‘break points’, taking the time to spot the handful of solidly rooted rocks and/or getting close enough to make a lung for the handful of well rooted vegetation was absolutely key to not setting off an avalanche and/or going for one hell of an elevator ride down. Very luckily, mid-way through the ascent, the grade levels off and the rocks rather suddenly go from giving out at the slightest touch to being quite reliable.
The views from the summit of West Baldy, [as well as the summit itself], were off the charts awesome; and as I completed my ascent, it was obvious why “Baldy” is part of the name. The summit - as well as substantial portions of its flanks on all sides - consists of pretty much just small chunks of light colored rock; and there is no brush. I was unable to locate a register but found a nice survey marker, which ironically had both ‘West Baldy’ AND ‘Sacaton’ on it.
Sacaton Mountain was next on my list. I had several other nearby peaks routed up as well in the event I had time/energy for more; but given just how rugged things were getting, I realized as I headed off West Baldy that I would probably just barely have the time to grabbed Sacaton. The animals had blazed an exceptionally nice route along the ridgeline between West Baldy and Simmons Saddle, which is located just to the West of Sacaton Mountain. Along this section of ridge, the going was generally very pleasant when the route skirted the top and ran along the loose rock piles on the flanks; and it was less than pleasant when it ran along the top of the ridge / on solid ground thanks to more of the catclaw-like shrub. The stretches that ran over the loose rock piles were so well-beaten that it looks like an actual trail, even from a distance.
Things started to go sour when I neared UN 10293. Given that I was running tight on time, I figured I’d hop on the trail in this area, [which would lead me to Simmons Saddle], then ascend Sacaton, and then hit up UN 10293 on the return if time permitted. It definitely made me a bit nervous when I came to the spot where I should have intersected trail, only to find nothing that even resembled a route. The only routes present were animal routes, which headed up toward UN 10293. While it wasn’t total panic yet, the possibility that my planned exist trail might no longer exist, [and that I’d be in for a long, off-trail haul back], definitely entered the picture.
To make matters worse, time wasn’t the only thing I was running out of… this was a very rare occasion where I found myself almost out of water. While it wasn’t a *direct miscalculation of my natural water needs, [*but rather having forgotten to take a remedy that then requires a double dose, often resulting in up to a doubling of my water needs], the end result of being feces out of luck was equivalent to that of a beginner who completely underestimates water intake. Very luckily for me, the creeks and canyons were flowing well… to the point where the water even looked crystal clear further down where the cows were dropping biscuits in it. :eek: Fortunately, I’d be coming down from the 10,658’ Sacaton Mountain and be able to catch the first flow if needed… little did I know at that point however just how ‘rough’ of a ride I’d be in for on the return…
In approaching Sacaton, I opted for the path of least resistance, [which was following the animal routes up to UN 10293 vs. attempting a brushy contour in the area where the trail should’ve been]; and then headed down to Simmons Saddle. I wanted to relax at the sight of a trail sign, but it was a little unnerving: not only was there not even the faint resemblance of a trail in either of the two directions [NE & SW] that the trail supposedly headed according to the topo maps, the sign, [which had broken off and was resting on the ground at the base of its post], indicated that there was a spring [to the SE]; and the only trail that took off from the saddle headed in that direction, which was not going to be of any help in terms of the way I needed to go to get back to my vehicle]. At this point, I knew I was going to be in for a long haul back; but given that I was only 1/2 mile or so from the summit of Sacaton, I’d hit up the summit and then head back.
The ascent was not complicated, consisting of a huge rock pile at the base that extends most of the way up to the summit ridge, followed by a short section of some trees & light brush. There was tons of deadfall along the summit ridge, making it a very slow go. I attempted to speed things up but took a hard fall as a direct result of the impairments I still face from the viral infection that damaged my equilibrium last summer. The fall would’ve easily broken a knee or ankle, and as I was flailing through mid-air, I decided to save my legs [i.e. my most prized body parts in terms of walking/hiking] and shifted my weight as needed to allow my legs to hit solid ground. This resulted in my head getting ‘close-lined’ by a large branch above. The pain was intense for the first 1-3 seconds but thankfully there was just some mild swelling vs. a laceration that would’ve required me to kill time waiting for the bleeding to stop. I was not in a particularly good mood after this … the fall was one of 6-8 spills that I took during this ONE adventure… ALL of which were a direct result of my impaired equilibrium; and there were 2-3 other falls were I would’ve sworn [while flailing through in mid-air] that a knee/ankle was about to get snapped. Luckily, my athleticism saved me those other times as well, [and without taking another big hit to my head/other area].
The highpoint of Sacaton is not obvious, so I touched all points in question as I made my way along the summit ridge. I was very surprised to find a register nestled under what appeared to be a summit cairn [which was not on the highest point but still in the general vicinity]. Prior to me, there were just two other sign-ins: AZ’s Mark Nichols (7/30/05) and James Jones of Missoula, MT (4/18/08). The inside of the jar, along with the single sheet of paper, were completely drenched. Normally, I would’ve waited the 10-15 minutes for them to dry out; but I was really starting to get worried for more reasons than one: I had just under 1/2 liter of water by this point [and with potentially no return trail, I was literally a couple of hours from just reaching the first flow at the top of the canyon where I was planning my return]… an overwhelming sense that every minute was going to count in terms of getting back [or least to where there would be well-defined trail] before dark… AND what appeared to be a storm was moving in toward the summit. Thus, I signed the single, dry sheet of paper that I FINALLY remembered to take in my pack, enclosed it in a Ziploc bag that I had on hand, and left it in the register; then got the hell out of Dodge.
I dropped off Sacaton first to the NE, then North, and then began contouring counterclockwise, back around toward Simmons Saddle. There were a couple of spots were I overlapped with where the trail should’ve been; but it was no surprise by this point to not even detect even faint resemblance of a trail. Part of the North face had a good 2’ of snow, which surprised me given that I’d seen no other snow up to that point, aside from a very small isolated patch shortly after descending West Baldy.
Getting back to Simmons Saddle seemed to take forever, and partway back it started to rain lightly and there was thunder. I did not have a good view at all during my contour and could not see how bad things might get or which direction the storm was headed. I powered on my phone and had partial service [1x / 3G]… enough to text Peter for an ‘SOS Doppler report of Sacaton Mountain in NM’. He graciously got me an update and it was thankfully just small passing storms versus a big system, [in which case I might’ve opted to find a spot to hunker down]. Luckily there was no lightening.
Upon reaching Simmons Saddle, I proceeded to contour UN 10293 near where the trail should have been. Animal routes were abound and definitely helped; and with considerably fewer downed trees compared to Sacaton Mountain, [along with having a much shorter distance to contour], this section went by pretty quickly. However, with some ups and downs along the way, I had finished all but the final 1/4 liter of my water by the time I had made my way to where the big descent would begin. I wasn’t overly thirsty but definitely holding back on the last little bit in case I REALLY needed it [i.e. if I experienced muscle cramping].
The next section involved what should have been the trail making a few switchbacks down toward Little Dry Creek. In this area, I saw occasional faint remnants of what may have been trail, but I’d already decided on my game plan: a “blind” bushwhack return via Little Dry Cry. After the switchbacks, the trail heads away from the creek [only to drop back in a few miles later]; and if I was going to be bushwhacking anyways, I wanted the most direct route back.
Mid-way down, my muscles started to cramp, and I finished the final 1/4 liter of water that I’d been saving. Shortly after that, I heard water below me and started heading for it, not giving the topography, [which had been very generous along this stretch], the attention it deserved. I soon spotted water below… [and then noticed the VERY steep 75-100’ stretch of extremely loose footing separating me from the first flow]. As I looked for options to skirt the precariously slope, I suddenly realized me error; had I been paying attention to the terrain, I would’ve noticed that even the animal routes converged to skirt this super steep section… however, with my muscles on the verge of cramping, backtracking up to pick up the animal route was not an option.
I decided to tackle the loose footing head on. While a fall in this area would not have been like going off a cliff [and unlikely to result in death], bad bruises were almost a guarantee and broken bones/fractures were very possible. With a mere handful of single-stranded but STRONG plant shoots, a handful of rocks that looked solidly rooted, and a massive downed tree partway down the slope that acted as a decent breaking point, I used everything in my surroundings, [along with my trekking poles], to negotiate the stretch of terrain that was outside my element [I would’ve opted for a Class 4 climb any day over loose footing like this!].
Aside from the added difficulty of having my legs nearly cramp while straddling a large branch that stemmed from the downed tree, the descent went much smoother than anticipated. I then scrambled over to the highest area where I could see water flow and it was coming out through the rocks like a natural water fountain. Before even refilling my bottles, I got down on all fours to drink directly from it. The stream of water from the first flow was very small but the flow was excellent, filling 1 Liter in about 15-20 seconds. Despite being over 9.5 hours into my adventure by that point [and now having to head up a steep embankment to skirt a waterfall], I carried the weight of the 6 extra lbs. [3 Liters of fresh water] up the steep slope with much more ease & vigor relative to the previous section of downhill in my semi-dehydrated state where my load was 6 lbs. lighter.
I took a much needed 5-10 minute break by the water pool but couldn’t relax for much more, as I had another couple miles of ‘blind’ bushwhacking before reconnecting with the trail. There were some craggy areas to be skirted, [and reaching the trail as daylight fast ran out seemed to take forever]; but luckily with many excellent animals routes, it was pretty uneventful and no cliff-hanging maneuvers were needed. Little Dry Cry was exceptionally beautiful; there were neat shaped waterfalls & pools EVERYWHERE. Some of the deeper pools were thigh deep and walking directly through them felt awesome after the beating I’d taken on this adventure.
Upon finally reaching the trail, [which was luckily very obvious for the remainder of the way back, aside from a few poorly marked water crossings], I had just over 3 miles to go before reaching my vehicle, [about 2 miles that were new and 1 that was a repeat of the first mile]. The surroundings were absolutely beautiful but given how beat I was by this point, reaching the trailhead seemed to take forever. Just minutes before needing my headlamp, I came to a neat abandoned home and was able to get a few pics. My last 1+ mile was in total darkness but luckily the trail was very obvious in this area. Exhausted beyond belief, I car-camped right at the TH. It was a beautiful spot and I had it all to myself. And, [as I’d find out soon enough the next morning], it was a dam good thing I didn’t have the energy to head up Bursum Road… |
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| God save the Prom Queen, cuz [reality check!] AEG's King...! |
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Route Editor
Route Scout
... we then kicked things off.
), but on this particularly occasion, it proved to be a saving grace. I attempted to answer the call but got whacked in the face with a pile of snow that had flown off the door upon opening it; and I gazed in horror at the Winter Wonderland outside and what appeared to be a good 6-8” of snow. To make matters worse, the snow was still falling fast and furious. Without hesitation, I grabbed my keys threw my belongings off the front see, and proceeded to get the hell out of Dodge.
Despite not even having pre-drawn a return GPS route, [I had imported a route from HAZ, initially intending to do an out-and-back via the trail], I nailed this one in more ways that one. Without a second thought, I put the register back in its spot and then headed over to the edge of the summit and began to make my ‘blind’ bushwhack descent, exactly as I had envisioned, which involved using a combination of dropping & contouring such that I would eventually end up on a very gradual ridge located to the SE of the summit with the Lookout. This ridge would then lead me out to very near the main road that goes back up to the TH, at which point it would be about 2-2.5 miles of very easy dirt road hiking.
I won’t bother to explain… as they say, a picture’s worth a thousand words. 
