Supermoon up Red Mountain

May's full moon today was this year's "supermoon," when the moon is at its closest to Earth along its axis. It appears 14 percent bigger than normal. I wanted to hike a supermoon hike somewhere and asked Rod. He then suggested Red Mountain near Patagonia, AZ. I agreed. Rod, John and I, and dogs Sadie and Sieger, came along. I had only planned on taking Sadie, but Zeke insisted he come as well. This was thus his unplanned first group hiking event. He did OK. Red Mountain is the highest peak in the Patagonia mountains, standing 6373' tall. It's one of the most northern peaks in this rather small range. It's a range that geographically extends into northern Sonora and is laden with active and abandoned mines. There are so many trails here I've yet to explore, so why don't I? Maybe because it's the danger I feel when I am in these mountains. There are always USBP driving around, always these small forest fires that start up at dusk, and other arrests in this area. A hiker must be on guard at all times.

Meetup time was 5pm at the town's post office. No one else but Rod and John showed up. The people I invited didn't RSVP me and I wasn't expecting anyone else. It was once again us three Rogue Hikers. We drove in two separate vehicles to the trailhead, to Forest Road 4649 off Harshaw Road and just south of the Arizona Trail crossing. The road isn't marked well, so few may know about this turn-off. It's almost four miles from Harshaw Road to the peak, and one deep crevice near the one-mile mark may mean parking at the mile-mark and hike on in. That is what we did, despite a Ford Escape with three adults in it making it up much higher and parking a mile from the Look-out. Our starting time was just after 5:30pm. The USBP now use the peak as a radar look-out. I can't blame them, as the Patagonia hills are replete with drug smugglers. We met one USBP vehicle coming down the mountain. No major activity was spotted today, he told us, "but there was a major arrest off Ramsey road in SV."

Rod and John were both tired from having worked a trail maintenance event in Sunnysite Canyon with the Huachuca Hiking club earlier today. Rod looked especially exhausted, as he looked as beat as he looked last week coming down Cochise Head. He trailed behind John and me, causing us both to stop and look back at him. FR 4649 meanders rather steeply up a mostly eastern vantage point to the top, making several long switchbacks up the road. This makes it a great moon hike as the moon shines on the eastern side for the first half of the night. When we started hiking up we were in the cool dark shadows of a setting sun, walking up the slopes of the hills with Harshaw Road extending into the horizon. We could see the lighted cars drive by to our south, but no other house lights. "I don't remember this place being so green!" I told Rod as we stopped at one point to gaze north into Patagonia. Lush green trees followed a creek bed, but the green extended well higher up into the hills. Then I remembered that it only appears so green because our own forest in the Huachuca mountains has burned brown and grey. I'm not used to seeing so much green foliage after our own Monument Fire from last summer. Still, the juniper trees, pygmy pines and manzanitas all looked healthy here. Smaller unmarked trails to smaller peaks veered off from the road. There are other private places to stop and watch a moon rise from this road. And where did that truck load of people go anyway? We saw their Ford Escape parked off the road, but they were nowhere to be found.

The peak up was farther than Rod had anticipated. Was he going to make it to the top on time, I wondered. "We have thirty minutes, we can make it!" he said as we approached the last saddle. I went on ahead since John stayed with Rod. When I made it around the saddle and now facing the western slope, I could see the sun setting over Baboquvari, a sacred mountain of the ToOhono O'dham. The setting sun set a deep red-orange glow in its waning moments of the day. Rod was wrong about the timing. It took me over 45 minutes to reach the peak, and I had missed the initial moon rise by ten minutes. Although the moon was still a ball of orange, it wasn't the huge red ball I thought it was going to be. I arrived at the peak at 7:15pm. A lone USBP agent opened his vehicle door and spooked me, as much as I spooked him.

It was windy on top, and many radar and other communication devices whirled, buzzed and hummed nearby. This added to a rather wild sensation, going from quiet hiking to loud summit conquest; like entering a new world. I was now chilled, and my sweaty back didn't help much. But I remember being here before. I had been here years before with Kevin and the two older dogs in 2005 or so, but don't remember the look-out and certainly don't remember the USBP presence there now. The look-out was open and I went up the stairs to photograph the area. The two dogs stayed at the base, guarding the entrance. I could see Nogales now in the distance, Patagonia lake glistenining in the moonshine, and other lights starting to come up.

John came up ten minutes later, causing Zeke to bark loudly and Sadie to follow. Sadie should have known better as she has hiked up with John before. Lately she barks when he barks. Zeke also barked at John as we hiked downhill, when John got too far ahead of us to be recognized. Rod later called that "straggler control severely reprimanding those who hiked too far ahead or were too far behind Connie." Rod was nowhere to be found. "Is he OK?" I asked John. "He had to stop to take his Motrin." And a few minutes after we both descended, we saw Rod come up, so together we climbed back up to the peak, enjoyed the view, and descended a final time together. As expected the western slopes were very dark without any moonlight. I carried a lantern and lighted up that view until we were all back at the last saddle. From here on down the trail was brightly lighted, only darkening as we came across tree shadows. I slipped three times going downhill, twice scraping my left knee and then my right hand. Rod slipped a few times but only I actually fell. Was I imbalanced, wearing wrong footwear (I wore my Obox trail runners) or was I just always on the slick side of the road? I was holding on to my Canon 5D, a camera I don't want to destroy. It took us four hours for the entire hike. By 9:30pm we were back at our vehicles. Even I felt the stiffness in my legs. No one suggested a post-hike meal as we were all beat. Both dogs were also tired on the drive home. To make it easier for Rod, I drove John back to his car so that Rod could go straight to Benson where he lives. Several emergency vehicles passed us by as we drove east from Patagonia. There were at least ten sheriff vehicles in front of the Sonoita Steak Out. Wonder what that was all about?