My original plan for today was to drive two hours west to hike the Sierrita mountains west of Green Valley and hike up the road to Keystone Peak, the range's tallest summit at just over 6100.' I had invited SteveA to join me. He initially seemed interested, but a few hours later told me he'd rather stay local and hike with Rod and John.
I ended up joining Steve instead anyway. The new tires for the Honda Ridgeline that I had ordered yesterday morning through our local BigO Tires didn't get to the store in time for me to get them installed before closing time. Instead, I arrived at the store at 8am with Hansel this morning, walked down to a new coffee shop to wait on my new tires, sipped on a hazelnut/Irish creame latte and watched traffic on SR roll by, and drove off with new tires at 9:15am. I drove straight to the Babocamari river trailhead. It was a good day to hike: upper 50s with partially cloudy skies. I arrived at 9:45am.
John and Rod's trucks were parked on the alkaline flats a short distance inside the State Trust Land.
Hansel jumped out of the truck and immediately caught the scent of the others. I relied on him to lead me to the group. He was following a scent, but the many scat piles along the path would always get him distracted. Every now and then I saw a large foot print. It looked fresh. So I followed Big Foot.
There was flowing water in the Babocamari river. The deciduous trees have lost most of their leaves, so views down to the river are easier to spot. Hansel even ran down to drink some water. I expected all that water from our last monsoon to have dried up by now. I was pleasantly surprised.
Hansel picked up speed a half mile from the cascades. I knew then that he had spotted the group. They were still walking toward the cascades and I joined them, having a snack near the old bridge. Hansel had his can of pureed venison but also begged for more from the others, especially Rod's grass-fed beef sticks.
I wanted to explore the river past the old bridge. We could see that the path was overgrown with catclaw. I went on anyway while the three guys watched me for a while before resuming their walk back to the trucks. Only Steve waited for me, although he needn't have as I don't like keeping people waiting and I had no idea how much farther I could go.
I made it 0.3 miles one way, battling heavy, prickly brush taller than me. I was getting poked and scratched from head to toe. It was not fun, but what kept me going was seeing the faint remains of the rail bed in the more cleared areas. The even grade was still noticeable. Of hiDowned grass revealed old cattle (or deer) resting areas or even that of border crossers, but the thick overgrowth near the water prove that this area gets little human attention.
A deep pool flanked by rock walls is just past the old bridge before the river returns to a 4-foot wide, grass-lined creek. This is what I saw when I explored this part of the Babocamari in August. Hansel enjoyed the water, but I knew I had to turn around. A very thick wall of catclaw convinced me to turn back, just shy of a south-flowing wash. My arms and thighs were stinging from the many thorns that had poked me.
I walked back with Steve who kept in touch with Rod via radio. We all joined up again a half-mile down the rail bed.
I was up front with John when I told him I wanted to cut across the desert to see how effective the short cut is. It was surprisingly easy here, with mostly creosote shrubs that don't prick and are easily avoided. This short cut subtracts 0.8 miles from the big S-curve on the southeast section of the track.
Proud for having found this short cut, my joy was quickly dashed when Hansel caught sight of a desert hare and took chase. Asshole! I annoyingly stopped my hike and started yelling his name. To no avail. Even a mile from the cars, I continued yelling for him, but figured he ran back to the other guys to walk with them. He would recognize Steve's scent and stay with him.
I did what other dogs do to mark their territory: I peed on the road once I got off the short cut. This would let Hansel know I'm in the area. That hack apparently worked: I found Hansel walking north, sniffing the dirt. I had gotten into the truck to drive back on the road hoping to find him. As soon as he heard me, he ran into the truck to rest.
My assumptions proved true. Steve said that Hansel ran back to them, then darted back on the short cut, then back to them several times, and when he caught my scent he quickly picked up pace back to me.
The hike was three hours long. I had hiked six miles. Hansel probably added two additional miles. I'm glad to have done this hike; it was nice to hike with old club members again. I can always reconnoiter Keystone peak another weekend.
https://www.strava.com/activities/8154531049
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