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| | | Surviving TStorm LSM #244 & info Rock Crk TH, AZ | | | |
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Surviving TStorm LSM #244 & info Rock Crk TH, AZ
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| Backpack | 3.30 Miles |
1,314 AEG |
| | Backpack | 3.30 Miles | 2 Hrs 17 Mns | | 1.56 mph |
| 1,314 ft AEG | | 36 LBS Pack | | |
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| no partners | | I have no desire to make a Thru-Hike, even if I could. Nevertheless, I earned my Thru-Hiker's "I survived a killer Thunderstorm" Merit Badge during this trip.
But first the important stuff.
As to Little Saddle Mountain Trail:
- The drive to the Cross F Trailhead is among the easiest there are. From the Beeline, it's a paved road (Old Sycamore Creek Rd) to a short, smooth dirt driveway to the TH proper.
- When I arrived Friday afternoon, the parking lot was totally empty. I parked in the shade of the only two trees where there's also a campfire pit. I parked a bit out of the way in case anyone wanted to camp there. And, wow, did someone want to camp there.
- When I returned Saturday afternoon, a large, extended Mexican family had set up two large party tents, with a food line in one. (BBQ.) A few E-bikes with kids riding. Kids playing in the tall grass nearby. (Rattlesnakes?) Spanish music playing loudly. (Good amp and speakers. No distortion. $$) So apparently some TH's are turning into Parks.
- All the reviews of this trail that I've read rate the Difficulty of this hike as "Moderate." Two years ago, on my first backpack trip ever, I rated it as "Easy." I still rate it as "Easy," even tho I've greyed two years more and I carried 9 pounds more this time.
- In addition to it being "Easy" terrain-wise, it's Easy because the trail was in perfect condition this time. No deadfall. No brush encroaching. (At least for the first 3.3 miles. I didn't go all the way to the end.) I met two different pairs of day hikers Saturday, both just out for a "stroll" with their dogs. (Both who knew no details about the trail. I'm guessing that some local blogged about it on social media?) No trekking poles for them. So they would probably say it was "Easy."
- Of course, after a rain, the trail turns muddy/slippery in places. But there are enough rocks alongside the tread proper that provide good traction.
- The trail is not particularly scenic. You're in valleys most of the time. No mining sites that I saw to spark historical interest. I don't know why the trail exists, unless it was to go to other trails.
- It's not always windy at the mesa in the morning.
- I only met one person Friday, a world traveled Thru-Hiker who was set up near my campsite when I arrived. Contrast this to Saturday, where I met 30 people. Most were nobo Thru-hikers. A quartet of equestrians on an out and back from Cross F. And the two different pairs of dog lovers above. No one was sobo except the three sets who were yoyo.
As to the Rock Creek Trail:
- Since I was already at Sunflower, I drove to Rye on Sunday to learn what I could learn about how Friday night's storm affected things there. I was expecting the FR's to be muddy messes. (A local said that they were on Saturday.) But a day in the AZ sun dried them out. (Although still "damp." (No dust kicked up while driving.)) The FR's to the RC TH are in much better condition than years ago, easily driveable, although you need HC at the two creek crossings.
I had been considering camping at the Rock Creek Fall, which had been reported as running two weeks ago. But there was no water flowing in the two Rock Creek crossings along the FR, and no water at Center Creek. So I'm guessing that there was water at the waterfall either. (Although, as it goes to water proper, in both my previous hikes along Rock Creek, there's been pools of water about a mile in along the trail even when the Creek at the TH is dry.)
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My Merit Badge - The Sudden Unexpected (but expected) Thunderstorm
I'm surprised that there haven't been any reported deaths (from hypothermia) along the AZT from Friday night's storm. Even Mr. Experienced backpacker's tent came down twice in the storm and he told me the next morning that he was thinking "Survival Situation." As was I.
First, some PSA's:
- Hand Warmers can save your life. Think Jack London's "To Build a Fire."
- Snack food(s) can save your life. (Quick bursts of energy to stop the convulsive shivering.)
- Sitting on your sleeping pad and/or foam pad when your tent has water in it can save your life. (Even better if you can inflate your pad some.)
- Don't stop thinking when Plan A doesn't go as planned. If you don't have a Plan B, think of one. And then think up a Plan C for when Plan B doesn't work.
- If you can safely heat up water in your tent (to drink), then do. (An advantage of Sterno over a flame thrower.) But be on guard against desperation. Drinking hot water won't do any good if you burn your tent down from shivering so hard that you knock things over. (There's a fine line dividing when you can act and when you can't.)
- If your hearing aids aren't waterproof (new to me - mine aren't), put them in a zip lock bag.
- It's good to have a "Ruggedized" Smart phone. (That's waterproof.)
- If you carry a Space Blanket, keep it dry. (You might need to wrap it around you.)
- If you carry a Bug Out bag, put everything in it in a liner. (To keep them dry.)
- If your tent is somewhat symmetrical, but has a definite front and a back, take a Sharpie and mark parts of the tent with visual aids to help set it up in case you need to set it up RIGHT NOW! (My tent uses Orange and Gray to differentiate between front and back straps. Not intuitively obvious in a blinding rain/hail/wind storm when you're semi-panicking.)
- There's a Martial Arts saying "Slow down to go fast." Not easy to force yourself to slow down when under attack.
Second, "What I did right."
- I bulked up food-wise starting four days before the trip. (I actually gained weight after this trip, although I don't know how, since I missed dinner due to the storm.) I can't prove it, but I think having the extra energy store helped me keep hypothermia at bay.
- While I've been carrying a Nylofume pack liner with me for a year now, this was the first time that I packed my kit in the liner before a trip. (Although I always pack my sleeping bag (down) and my sleeping clothes in Ziplock bags.)
- As the last minute (at the TH, where I bring a box of extra camping gear), I decided to accept the weight penalty of adding a pair of water proof rain pants (with felt liners), an extra pair of Hand Warmers, a large bag of dried banana chips (apparently coated with sugar glaze), and the rain cover that came with my backpack.
- Days before, since I knew that TRW's could be present the evening of my arrival, I thought about what I would do if a storm hit and I didn't have my tent up. (Thanks to an Influencer I watched about "The #1 Thing that kills Backpackers.")
- When I had cataract surgery, I had my doctor insert lenses that gave me 20/40. (Instead of 20/20.) This so I could see okay (even drive) if my glasses broke. Turned out to be a good decision when a lens popped out of my glasses during the storm.
What I did Wrong.
- The single biggest thing that I did wrong was to not even think about using my smartphone to go online at the campsite to check RADAR, as I confidently told Mr. World wide backpacker that, based my experience as a pilot, we had hours to go before a storm would come. (The sin of presumption/arrogance.)
I didn't even think about going on line while freezing in my tent at 9 pm, wondering when the storm would pass.
In fact, I didn't think of it until the drive home, when I was mentally reviewing everything per the Last Step in Problem Solving.
Had I looked at RADAR the first thing after arriving at my campsite, I would have set my tent up immediately instead of lollygagging and chatting with Mr. Experience. Then maybe I could have avoided near death. (But then I wouldn't have earned my Merit Badge.)
I could blame RS for conditioning me to think that I'm always in Airplane Mode while backpacking. But I can't blame RS, since I had come out of Airplane Mode to send a text to my friend, announcing that I had arrived. And I sent a text during the storm too!
I guess I've been away from flying too long. `Cause I always checked RADAR from my phone then.
Or I'm just becoming stupider as I age. (Impossible to prevent that.) But hopefully I'll think about this if there's a next time.
- I should have put my backpack in my tent to act as an anchor during the windstorm. I've developed the habit of emptying my backpack outside, moving what I need inside the tent, and then hanging my backpack somewhere.
- If your campsite has the room (not all do), then pitching your tent with the small side pointing to the wind makes it easier to pitch than broadside to the wind. (Obvious, I know. But ... )
- I should have put my rain pants on before it rained.
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The (somewhat abridged) Story:
This was a trip to revisit my first ever backpacking trip, which I did two years ago on this trail. (In February. With snow.)
The purpose of this trip was twofold. First, to be a metric of whether I'm physically performing better, worse, or the same as two years ago.
I'm pleased to report that I'm performing better. (Physically. Perhaps not mentally.)
RS says I averaged 1.4 mph this time. I'm going to call it 1.5 mph, since I took ten minutes to take about ten pictures. A personal best for me. Especially since I was carrying the most I've ever carried, which was 9 lbs more than the first time on this trail. Still, the twenty-somethings on the trail easily outpaced me. Even their little Chihuahua dog was out pacing me with its tiny feet.
And I wasn't tired when I arrived at the campsite. The first time I made this hike, I was so exhausted after I arrived that I didn't have the energy the next day to complete the last half mile of TR #244. This time I had the energy, despite the night's draining experience and despite not having dinner. (I didn't complete it tho because the two girls with their dogs who had said that it was fairly muddy, especially after the horses came through and churned everything up.)
The other purpose was to enjoy camping out in a thunderstorm.
Now, I've been in thunderstorms twice in my tent. Both times were a nonissue. The tent endured the wind. (Although I don't think I've had gusts to 40 before.) And the tent never let water in. Not by soaking nor by condensation, despite humidity being 100%. But these times were always with the tent properly set up before the storm. That was not the case this time.
When I arrived at camp, around 6 pm, the temperature was nice comfortable 63 F.
I should have checked RADAR when I arrived at camp. But since I didn't, I was confident that I had plenty of time to look around for any better campsites. Mr. Experience had set up his tent 100 feet away from me, 25 feet lower, on the east side of the trail, away from the edge of the mesa, and surrounded/sheltered by brush. I thought I should do same. (It turns out that it didn't make a difference. His tent blew down twice during the storm, despite all his tight guying. (The ground turned to mud.))
But I couldn't find a flat, rock-free site as evening approached, and, frankly, I was emotionally attached/fixated to camping where I had camped in February 2023.
So I threw my Space Blanket on the ground and started to empty my backpack.
Then I looked west and saw a squall coming. FAST. Thinking back on it now, it also had that telltale white look of hail.
Yikes!
I raced to put on my rain poncho. I quickly put my rain cover over my pack. Then I started to set up the body of my tent as fast as I could. (It's not a fly-first tent.) The wind started picking up. Which made trying to stake the body down nearly impossible. (Big Agnes says to stake the body down first. But it's a free standing tent. Usually I put the poles in first, move it to where best and then stake it.)
Adding to the misery of the wind flapping the tent body, there was a rock EVERYWHERE I tried to plant a stake. (Murphy's Law of Backpacking?)
Then the hail started.
Actually - and thankfully - it wasn't hail. It was graupel. A.k.a. "soft hail." (Forms via a different process than hail.) https://www.nssl.noaa.gov/education/svr ... ail/types/
Being soft/less dense than hail, it was more like being pelted with dirt than being hit with (sharp) golf ball size rocks.
(What would I have done then? Could knock you out. Especially if it becomes baseball size. (No trees to run to for shelter.) Sharp hail can rip your tent to shreds. Then what? )
I gave up trying to stake the tent down and tried to concentrate on hanging the tent body on the poles. But in addition to the gusting wind, the temperature now had dropped into the mid-30's. My sun gloves were soaked. My fingers were becoming numb.
I couldn't get the tent pitched in the storm. The best I was able to do was to hang the body from the ridge pole (but not the brow pole) and clip the rain fly to the four corners of the tent.
By this time I was shivering so uncontrollably and my fingers were so numb that I thought that I had better go into my tent before I couldn't. (I was wearing my rain poncho over a wind breaker and my new hoodie. But the rain poncho kept being upskirted (like Marilyn Monroe) and my wind breaker was soaked.)
I could barely work the two zippers to open the tent. (So now I think I will always leave the doors half open when packed.) I climbed into the tent, which was better. But then I immediately sat in water, courtesy of the rain/melted graupel that collected through the mesh of the body while trying to stake.
Nothing like a wet butt. At least my fingers were warning up as I tightly clutched the Hand Warmers. (Which later I scrunched under my toes and captured with my sleeping socks.)
But then I decided that I needed my backpack and the stuff in it that I had left on my Space blanket. Including my foam bed roll. I unrolled my roll and the inside was dry. I sat on that, which provided some relief to my butt. Later I unrolled my sleeping pad and sat on that too. Then later I inflated my pad a bit. That helped a lot.
I was somewhat safe inside the tent, holding the tent against the wind with my back and holding the status quo. But it's a double wall tent. Rain usually doesn't have a path into the tent. But since the fly wasn't staked, it was flopping around and often slapping against the inside mesh. Equals water. So as the storm continued and as night fell, I started to shiver convulsively. (3x)
I found that if I ate some banana chips I could hold the shivering at bay. For a while. But after a while, I desperately wanted/needed to drink something hot.
I had my (Sterno) stove in the tent. But I had to be VERY careful to not burn the tent down trying to heat some water, given that the walls of the tent were shaking as violently as I was.
I eventually put on my rain pants. I put on my second hoodie and maybe my down jacket, which was wet, but not too wet. From 9 pm to 11 pm, I felt warm. Was thinking about London's story - was this the beginning of freezing to death?
The storm had ended by 11 pm. I went outside to hang the tent body and rain fly on the brow pole. And I staked the fly. The wind blew the rest of the night, but the temperature returned to nominal and the now dry wind dried out a lot of inside of the tent. Since it seemed that the danger had passed, I took my sleeping bag out of its Ziplock bag. I used it as a quilt instead of a bag so that it wouldn't become wet on the bottom side. And I went to sleep. Quite comfortably despite being jammed up in a junked up tent.
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Did I enjoy this trip?
Actually, in the end, Yes. Not while I was freezing, of course. I'm not an Adrenalin Junkie/Thrill Seeker. But I like problem solving and this experience has given me a lot to think about. Sounds crazy, doesn't it? But considering that other Thru-hikers went through the same storm, being crazy is the Norm in backpacking. (So now I might have answer "Yes" when Mom asks "If everyone jumped off a bridge, would you do it?") |
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| Be careful. It really is "a jungle out there." |
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