Snowshoeing backcountry to the peaks, Nov 26th

Arggghhh, it's been awhile since I've had a chance to update this.

Updates, updates, updates...

Well, for one, I am fully recovered from my Oct/Nov bout with mononucle-lameness. I lost almost ten pounds and about three good weeks of marathon training. Getting back into the swing of things has been nothing short of painful. In spite of all the set backs I set a new personal best a couple weeks back, running 12.6+ continuous miles. That's over two hours of continuous, repetitive, painful beating on my calves, knees, and IT band... without stopping or slowing in pace, mind you. Arrrgghhh! My right IT band has been the bane of my marathon existence. Every week, at least one of my runs is met with an immediate triggering of that sensitive strip of not-so-stretchy uselessness. During Thanksgiving week I was only able to complete six miles for the week. So I deemed it necessary to take a vacation...

Mt. Humphreys (12,633') among the San Fransisco Peaks, nestled in the Kachina Wilderness..

On Black Friday, the girlfriend and I got up early with the rest of capitalist America... and drove up early to the high country of Flagstaff, AZ. To shop. Haha! Nope! Instead, we set out on an early morning attempt of Arizona's highpoint, Mt. Humphreys. I do believe this is her fourth attempt? Maybe third. Long story short, the mountain gods continue to frown upon our simple group of two hikers. We roll up to Snowbowl road, only to find the gate down and locked. This is the only paved road into the mountain. Rather than wait it out or turn around, I told her we're gonna find a way in, if it's the LAST THING WE DO -- just for the record... that's probably not a good quote to recite during any potential cross-country adventure into the unknown. Dutifully noted. Anyhow, I could recall another road that leads in to Hardt Prairie, the large vast rolling hill that sits beneath the ski runs. Sure enough, my cell phone provider IS smiling on us with coverage and informs us that if we just take Forest Road 151, we should be there in no time. We set back out on Highway 89, towards the Grand Canyon, and after about five miles or so, there it is: FR 151... freshly blanketed in fresh snow and ice. Again... "[if its the last thing we do]", I whisper in my head. I slowly pull onto the snow and we start off down the white, glistening strip of road, winding through the thick forest of fir and aspen. After a nice 20 minute cruise, we find enough room to pull off without slipping the car completely off the ice-covered road. Krystal and I begin the long process of suiting up; not an easy task when there's thermals, boots, soft shells, gaiters, snowshoes, etc...

After a good twenty minutes or so, we're ready. We head off in a due east fashion, following a nicely-crusted shell of old ski tracks, leading the way into the wilderness. It's not long before we're overcome by the heat of the insulating layers and we're drenched in sweat. We make a mandatory pit stop to shed layers and begin piling our packs with the extra snow wear. Round two... we slowly, but methodically meander through the ski tracks, between several houses and vacant cabins spaced intermittently throughout the forest, occasionally stopping to daydream about owning one of the many plots of land out here. Maybe one day.

Two cool cats... ready to get some snowshoe on...

Ms. Krystal looks sooo menaci---err, dwarfish my coat n' thangs

All suited up and ready. I've got the skinny legs.

15 minutes of putting on all these layers.
15 minutes of wearing these layers before needing to shed 'em.
It was a hot day once the sun hit.

Looking back toward the car and Krystal making her way through some old ski tracks.

Off in the distance, the peaks begin to emerge.

After passing a few cabins, we finally stumble into a former roadway, now blanketed by white sheath and we decide to take advantage of the easier footing found from following this trail instead breaking new trail. The snow is extremely light and soft that day, with each snowshoe falling deep into the powder and pulling up heap-fulls of the stuff with each step. Progress is slow but we press on.

My lovely.

Along the way we intersect the Arizona Trail, a north-to-south running trail that spans AZ from Mexico to Utah. There are a few signs of prior use with boot prints sporatically placed, but we do not encounter a single soul in the area this day.

In our off-trail wanderings, we finally intersected part of the AZ trail. Apparently we're not too far from Utah. I wonder if they count the mileage needed to get through or around that big pit in the ground otherwise known as the Grand Canyon. Hmmm.

After some time spent in the woods, the trees become more sparse as we make our way onto Hardt Prairie, which runs towards the western side of the peaks.

Yours truly, with Agassiz Peak in the background.

Almost to the ski resort and the full western face of the peaks is now visible.

Looking through some trees at the visible North Rim of the Grand Canyon, some 70 miles on the NNW horizon.

Looking back down the slope toward the car. We parked in front of that white hill, 2 miles away.

Just a few more minutes and we're finally to the Snowbowl resort ghost town. Not a single soul around that day.

When we finally stroll into Hardt Prairie, the air is still and we can hear every crystal of snow changing shape and consistency under our steps. A few more minutes of winding through barren aspen and we arrive at the parking lot for the summit trailhead. Krystal and I shed our packs and immediate dust off and lay down on some fallen pines. We glance towards the mountain, with the northern ridge of Dutchman Glade in our distant view. From our perspective, the route appears all but snow-covered, with a majority of rock showing through. It is now close to two in the afternoon and suddenly the prospect of stealing some brews from the local town brewery reservoir sounds appealing. Krystal and I decide to head back to the car, hoping to get the beast back onto paved road before the melting layer of snow becomes ice with each waning step of the sun towards the horizon.

After making it to the resort, we took some moments for R n' R. Krystal is seen here on a very comfortable log.

Hardt Prairie, surrounded by aspen and firs.

Looking through the barren aspen, with Kendrick peak in the distance.

Now woken from her nap, we begin to gear back up for our return home.

Beautiful scenery :-D

Going downhill proves to be much easier, requiring considerably less effort as our strides slide with each step. The forest road appears with our car in sight. On our return drive out, we slide off the road into the drainage as I try to allow a truck past us. He doesn't bother to stop and help us, but lucky for us a good samaritan stops and helps me push the car back onto the icy path -- I'm still relieved we left when we did, ensuring a safe return back to the lovely city of Flagstaff and more importantly, longer time to enjoy some brews and well-deserved lunch at the local eatery. As for Krystal, her quest for Humphrey still continues. However, we shall not relent in fully experiencing her trials through to the end. The summit is still in her sights!

Cheers!