French Joe Canyon...Again!

Today was almost a repeat of last Saturday but this time I had some fun company. Steve and new hiker Gary from Boise, Idaho joined me at the 9am meet-up for a repeat performance in French Joe Canyon. We drove in my dirty Ford Escape from town to the trail head where Rod and Caci were waiting. Yay! A group of five is ideal for hiking.

This was Steve's first time here. Gary had never been in this canyon despite having lived the winters here for 15 years. I spent most of the hike talking with Gary about the local hiking trails, and of the members of the club. He was quite the loquacious hiker the entire time. He would fit in with some of the other gentlemen in this club: Bernie, Colonel Bill, Paul.

"I don't like hiking by myself anymore, and carrying a gun with me gets old" he said. He needn't worry, as any bad guys hiding in the brush would be wiser avoiding us with a dog around. We chated about the dangers of encountering illegals. The only ones to worry about are the drug smugglers dressed in black. They would hike through a canyon such as French Joe for its steep canyons and remote upper peaks.

We didn't see a soul this time. I think it's because for most of the hike, the clouds looked like they were ready to storm on us. They came close, but the heavy rain never came till the end.

Gary said he was an intermediate hiker. I said I was one, too. Donna and Bill Bens are people I would consider advanced hikers who could leave me in the dust. For a man who claimed he hadn't hiked much, he did fine. This hike was a short but intense workout.

Rod knows these mountains intimately. He recommended a side hike to a saddle overlooking the San Pedro Valley. We agreed we would do that on our return hike. I wanted to take the group to the mine that I didn't get to last weekend first. That is where most people turn around anyway, and it had been years since I was at that mine.

The mine isn't that far off from where I turned around last week. But the rocks did get steeper and harder to climb up. (The steep grade didn't seem to bother Sadie!) We ended our climb at the mine, with a pretty view of the narrow canyon to our south. Here the cliffs in all directions made for a natural barrier; hiking further up the canyon would require serious rock climbing skills.

A skunk's tail (!) lay nearby, rotting near the mine shaft. Poor critter probably lost it in a fatal fight with a predator.
"What's that smell?" asked Caci.
"A dead skunk!" I replied.

We rested at the last dry waterfall before turning around. I climbed up even higher to explore the upper creek bed. It wasn't an easy climb and I didn't want to risk falling today, not as a hike leader, but the upper canyon would be a great rock climbing expedition for another day. If you go to the saddle of French Joe Canyon you end near the boundary of Kartchner Caverns, where a great mineral wealth lay waiting for discovery. (This I know from the college's Geology 101 course)

According to Rod's GPS we had hiked 1.5 miles at this point! That's all? It's quite deceiving how long a steep rock climb appears to the legs. I figured we'd gain a few more miles bushwhacking to an eastern-facing saddle on the return trip, but it started to rain as we got on this illegal trail and three of us didn't have rain gear. Caci had already announced she was not going to hike any further, so we all turned around and went back to our cars.

I will get back into this canyon again. I want to explore the higher ridges of this canyon, the more remote trails of the high ridges. Maybe next time I'll find that hidden treasure of gold. Ha.

Despite the short hike we all agreed that our legs felt the work-out.
"I feel like I did 'The Lunger' all day" I said, referring to an old army warm-up exercise. Both Steve and Gary agreed.

It rained hard as we left the trail head. It rained even harder as I approached our neighborhood. My birthday girl lay in the back seat exhausted, but perked up when we got home.

Kevin, just like last weekend, went hunting in the Dragoons. This time he brought back a hare that he had killed. One of the doomed critter's hind legs was grilling on the stove when I got home. Sammy and Sara were excited about the smell, and Sadie was curious. She ended up eating more of the hare, which Kevin was kind enough to hide from my view in the backyard. Sadie allegedly liked very much what she ate. Did it taste as good as that dead deer I hauled home over Christmas?

"I really didn't like it too much" said Kevin about the hare. He offered me some meat but I refused. I ate rabbit once years ago when I lived in Hamburg, Germany. It was tough and tasted wild. If I want meat I want it to melt in my mouth like Yukon Gold potatoes.

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