After getting a taste of winter about a month ago, I’ve been eagerly anticipating more snowfall on Mt. Lemmon. Unfortunately, the weather through the rest of November was fairly warm and no snow fell up on the mountain. All that changed in the second week of December when a storm system rolled in and dumped a ton of snow.

On the following Wednesday, clear skies returned. The very next day my girlfriend and I rented some snowshoes from the Summit Hut and headed up to enjoy some fresh powder. Through the store’s rental program, local customers can check out tents, sleeping bags, sleeping pads, climbing shoes, and snowshoes to outfit their adventures. Considering how infrequently we get snow down here in Tucson, I was quite glad to be able to check out two pairs of snowshoes and test them before making a purchase.

As we drove up Catalina Highway, snow started to appear even at the low elevations of 4,500 feet. By the time we reached Windy Point Vista, which is roughly halfway up the mountain, there was enough snow lying around for a few people to have snowball fights.

After parking at a trailhead near Summerhaven, we strapped on our snowshoes and headed up the trail into the fresh powder and 35 degree weather. Noticing that some cross country skiers had already paved the way before us, we decided to follow in their tracks. The snow was very deep, between 3-4 feet, and had a very fine powder consistency that weighed down the trees and made them look beautiful and crystalline.

After two miles of fighting our way uphill in multiple feet of powder, we reached a high point looking south over Tucson. The view was majestic. As we took a quick break on a nearby log, the warmth of the afternoon melted the snow and ice seated on the trees, causing it to rain down over us. The crackling of the snow and ice falling to the ground almost sounded like rain.

Heading down following our own track proved almost as difficult as creating that track in the first place. The snow had a frustrating tendency to slide under our feet, making the descent a little tricky. When we finally arrived back at the car, we eagerly jumped into the warm and cozy Subaru to enjoy the scenic ride back down Mt. Lemmon.

A few weeks ago, a group of us took a little canyoneering journey up to Salome Canyon. For those of you who may not know, canyoneering is an adventure activity that essentially entails making your way down the bottom of a canyon - by any means necessary. Sometimes that means hiking, sometimes it's sliding and sometimes there are technical rappels involved. Canyoneering is picking up steam as a mainstream activity but has long been an incredibly popular activity in the "adventure travel" realm, with canyoneering (or canyoning) being wildly popular in adventure destinations like Switzerland, Argentina, Costa Rica, and closer-to-home Zion. My first canyoneering experience came in Interlaken, Switzerland in 2007. This was definitely a tourist-centric trip but got me hooked on the sport! 

Salome is in the Salome Creek Wilderness north of Roosevelt Lake. There is only one necessary rappel – at the very end of the canyon – but there are plenty of scrambles, slides and swims! Although this was my first time down the canyon, it wasn’t Dave’s first and he was very quick to point out the water was incredibly low. Water levels here, as well as in most desert canyons, can vary drastically! If water levels are high, or if there is a chance of storms, it is probably best not to attempt the canyon.

The following video was put together using video shot by all members of our party – we had a blast and will definitely be back!

Necessary Gear: You WILL get wet! All of your stuff WILL get wet! If there is anything that needs to stay dry (electronics, wallet, etc) leave it in the car or put it in a dry bag -- or better yet, a canyon keg! There are tons of products out there made specifically for canyoneering, by brands like Imlay Canyon Gear, and all of them will make your day more enjoyable in some way. In our crew packs ranged from a pack made for canyoneering, to a simple CamelBak pack. All will get the job done! Footwear is also a matter of personal preference. I opted for my Chacos, Dave was wearing boots. About 150 feet of rope will get you through the one rappel. Also bring some webbing and be comfortable setting up an anchor at the rappel bolts. 

The Hike: The approach to the canyon is just about two miles (downhill on the way in - grueling uphill when you're on your way back, tired and hot!). The canyon itself is relatively short, about one mile, but can take some time, especially if you enjoy sliding down granite slides! We did the entire trip from car to car in just about 5 hours.

Directions: From Tucson, head north on Oracle Road (Hwy. 77) to Globe. Take Hwy. 60 west toward Superior, drive north on Hwy. 88. After 15 miles, turn right on Hwy. 288 toward Young. After 13 miles, turn left on Forest Road 60, also known as A Cross Road.  Watch for a brown forest service sign on the right side of the road. There is a small parking area next to the sign. Jug Trail #61 begins just beyond the sign.

The day began with a long drive down a deeply rutted dirt road into the far reaches of the Cochise West Stronghold. I swear I have car-narcolepsy; sometimes no matter what the circumstances, I completely bonk out in the passenger seat, and this was happening to me as the truck bucked down the road: despite the beautiful views of open desert ranch land and bald, towering domes, and despite the truck bunny-hopping small boulders in the creek, I managed to fall asleep with my head resting on the back of the bench seat for at least a few seconds between bumps of my head against the window. Eventually Clare pulled my head to her shoulder so she wouldn't have to listen to it bang against the glass. She didn't even tease me, though the boys certainly did.

Lift off: first pitch of Moby Dick

Pulling closer to the trailhead, the canyons unfolded like granite ribbons. We parked and got out and slung on our packs and dropped into the wash, laid out at the bottom of the canyon like a street cobbled with polished white boulders. I had been here before, so I was the acting guide, which would have made our party irrevocably lost if not for the paved river bed. I knew at least that on the approach to Moby Dick on the Whale Dome, it's not time to turn up the gully until you're directly under the dome. You can recognize the dome because it looks like a whale, kind of. There's a crack forming the smile of the humpback mouth. I also knew we wouldn't be directly under it until we had passed a large fallen tree whose branches curved up from where they cross the trail. The first time I picked through the branches I got the eerie feeling of crawling through whale ribs to get to Moby Dick.

There's something magical about the whole days I've spent out here. The approach is beautiful, with lush tree cover in the desert, and after the ribbed branches, after breaking away from the stream bed and a short jaunt straight uphill we found ourselves at the bottom of the climb, two open cracks that would be the wrinkles of whale underbelly if we were to believe the dome still looked like a whale, which it really didn't from there. In any case, we stepped into our harnesses.

I conceded the first pitch lead to Logan. I told him it was because I'd already climbed it and I thought the pitch would be fun for him; in actuality I was nervous about the first awkward and unnerving moves. I didn't think they would be a problem for him, but just like on my first time up the climb, he got into the first strange off-width crack the wrong way, and about eight feet up, right before putting a piece of gear in the rock to hold a fall, his foot slipped. I gasped sharply, imagining a split second where the slip turned into a fall and my boyfriend came tumbling to the rocky ground. In the next split second he had caught himself and placed his foot more firmly on the rock, clipping a cam as he moved over to the next crack system.

Crack system on Moby’s second pitch

Crack climbing is a somewhat rare treat in southern Arizona, and there's a fair bit of it on the first two pitches of Moby Dick, as the climb follows a couple of cracks up the side of the whale. Sometimes they're just used for protection pieces, but often you can wedge a fist in the gap and pull yourself up, or layback up more open cracks, pressing your feet against a wall while grappling the edge of the crack for counter pressure. I like climbing along cracks because it's more physical; you're using your body like you would hexes or cams, locking limbs in and moving up from there.

Pitch three reveals an amazing rock feature as you climb up this big gaping flake and at the top you can look down and see open air through the side; it's one big slice of rock just leaning on the side of the dome. At the top of the pitch you get to pitch a belay on chickenheads, big plates of rock poking up from the surface of the dome. Some people find this absolutely terrifying, but I think it's neat--it's so amazing to me that these features exist, and even better that they can be so useful.

The next two pitches go like a choose-your-own-adventure book. There's a given direction to go, and there are a few sections of slab, but much of it is climbing over big plated chickenheads, which is great because you have a thousand holds and a similar number of movements you can make. It's like a jungle gym.

On top of Whale Dome

We summited Whale Dome and drank in my favorite view anywhere while we munched dried mango and cinnamon almonds, compliments of Clare. The canyon continues cutting steep gorges, driving northeast toward the other side of the Stronghold. We prepared our ropes for the descent, which involves anchoring them in and then tossing them down a 170 foot abyss where they get tangled in trees at the bottom. One by one we take on the rappel, edging over the whale's lips and lowering ourselves into nothing: for 170 feet the rope dangles away from the rock wall as the whale recedes into the canyon bed.

(A logistical word to the wise: a windy day can whip ropes all over the wall, tangling them in chickenheads. I've heard of more than one person who's spent the night hanging from a harness while the ropes were hopelessly tangled on the wall. This descent--and the climb, for that matter--are not for beginners.)

And then, the climb done all in a day's work, we headed home. The fading light turned the rocks magenta as we hiked out, stopping in the middle for an acorn fight, girls against boys. We boulder-hopped back to the truck, and I stayed awake the whole way home.

The 50 Year Trail on the west side of the Santa Catalina Mountains is a magical place. It's hard to explain why really; this network of trails does not go up one of the many scenic and rugged canyons, but rather loops around on the shallow ridges and washes below the range. It was cloudy on the morning that two girlfriends and I went out to shred through the trail on our mountain bikes, and the clouds broke up the sun as it crested over the summit, making huge rays scatter over the valley. When I described how pretty this was to my boyfriend and my brother, both avid mountain bikers who have lived in Tucson much longer than me, they said they had often seen the same thing out here. The late-blooming sun keeps the valley below cool until midmorning, and in the past few weeks the wildflowers have had a second run, filling the valley with California poppies one week, bird's foot morning glories the next, and raging pink barrel cactus flowers throughout. The morning of our ride it was raining in Oracle and in Tucson, forming dark curtains around our slice of the mountains.

Sunrise On The 50 Year Trail

Kristen invited her friend Terri, who was from Australia and spoke with the most adorable accent in the world. Kristen and Terri are trail builders, and often ride mountain bikes in to work sites, loaded down with a day's worth of water and heavy tools, but Terri had never been mountain biking for fun. Kristen and I got to play the role of guides, leading her through the loops and twists of the trail. We got to a section called the chutes, where the trail is rutted down to a smooth channel. Terri had heard about this section of the trail, which is more intermediate because of the steep drops and turns, and we told her she didn't have to ride it; it loops back to the starting point and she could wait until we got back. But she dropped into it right behind us, taking on the downhill as if it was as easy as... well, as riding a bike.

Riding the chutes

I love the chutes. This section is definitely best appreciated on a mountain bike: on foot it's dusty, steep and rutted, but on a bike it's transformed into a roller coaster. The track is narrow and packed, the downhills are steep enough that you barely ever have to pedal, and you can just ride on the spine of these little ridges, feeling the momentum zooming you around the desert.

The first time I went mountain biking, my brother took me out to Fantasy Island and within the first ten yards I hit a small little rock and went flying over the handlebars, opening up my knee and my elbow; I have scars to show. He laughed at how I just went barreling down the hills, too scared to hit the brakes. It was fun and terrifying at the same time, because the desert housed so many things to scratch and stab you if you fell over, but it was exhilarating to find the right balance through the tough parts. I was always happy to be out in the desert, but also a little relieved when we got back to the trailhead.

Exiting the chutes

The same kind of relief showed on Terri's face when broke back onto the road, heading toward the car. I wanted to go another round.

Beginners and novices might only be separated by this one detail: when you're ready to go home, and when you still want more

The 2010 Tenfoilman Triathlon was a fantastic race for those of us that are triathletes and those of us that are tri-ing to become triathletes. The laid back attitude (and short distances) made it fun for everyone. This triathlon is a sprint distance, meaning that it starts with an 800 meter swim, then a 12 mile bike, and finishes with a 3 mile run. Everyone I mentioned this to has said, “Oh, I could do that!” but funny how none of them have! While I am sure many people can do it, it is a bit different to do all of these things separate verses one right after another!

Previously called the Tinfoilman, this year’s event was renamed Tenfoilman due to it’s 10^th anniversary and it being held on 10/10/10. This was my second triathlon (I did the Firecracker this summer) and I could hardly wait. I hadn’t prepared for my first tri (let’s just say a couple weeks before the event a friend and I- who were not signed up for the race- were at a bar… need I say more?) This time around I actually trained and I was ready. My goal was to finish under 1:25, 8 minutes faster than my previous time. To stay motivated, and keep things fun, two of my friends from the Summit Hut, Alison and Stephanie – both doing their first triathlons - joined me.\

The brave three - (Left to Right: Me, Alison and Stephanie)

Race day started with a 5 am wake up call; I dragged myself out of bed and got rolling. Bikes needed to be racked early and volunteers needed to mark us with our numbers. Due to constraints of swimming in a pool, there were 10 separate waves of swimmers. Alison and Stephanie were in the first wave and since I was in wave seven I had ample time to cheer them on and take photos. A couple hours later, gleaming with excitement from finishing their first triathlon, my friends grabbed some bagels and bananas and came over to cheer me on. Alison gave me some water, Stephanie gave me a pep talk and I headed off toward the pool. A small voice in my head said, “I want to be done too!” but even more so I was excited to get started!

My swim started well, with strong strokes and decent enough flip turns but like most “non-swimmer triathlon newbies” I was unable to keep my pace and had to occasionally give my lungs reprieve by resorting to the trusty breaststroke. On my 33^rd (and final) length, I was approaching a significant challenge of the swim- getting out of the pool. This particular pool has a very high edge and with the water being too deep to push from the bottom, I had to flop out of the pool like a beached seal! No matter, I was out and off running towards my bike!

Trying my best to get out of the pool with grace!

Now, the bike is my thing- my old friend- the part of the event where I am most comfortable. Sadly, I was still huffing most of the first lap never having fully recovered from the swim, but I managed to pull it together enough to look good when passing my cheering section (my husband, son, mother-in-law, Alison, Stephanie and some others). By now, I was pacing (not drafting, as that would be against the rules!) with another cyclist and working hard. We took turns passing one another until the 3^rd lap when she put the hurt on me and dropped me like a bad habit. No worries, I was then back in the transition area and in a flash I was off to a wicked slow jog. (Is that an oxymoron?)

My strategy to go as hard as I could on each section was turning out not to be such a great strategy after all… my legs were lead and my lungs were on fire. I thought I might actually have to… (gulp) …walk. Now there is no problem with walking but my goal was to finish the run in fewer than 30 minutes and I needed every one of those seconds to do so. I was still slogging along when my “bike pacer” passed me (I must have gotten ahead in the transition) and then my swim partner blew by me. (Did I mention I don’t like to run?) Somehow I managed to keep running and even picked up the pace a little. During the last mile of the run, my husband and son were there cheering me on – I started to smile. Then out of the corner of my eye I noticed my bar friend (you know, the one who thought triathlons would be a good idea) running behind me. I did not take offense to the fact that she had no trouble keeping up even though she was pushing her kid in a jogging stroller, and it didn't even bother me that she is also pregnant, but rather felt a burst of energy and suddenly the run became more bearable! So, I picked it up a bit (no one likes to look bad in front of others) and sprinted- relieved to cross the finish line.

 
Finding some joy in running.

I did it! I finished in 1:24 and I didn’t even throw up (or even feel nauseous!) Apparently training really does work! This triathlon has given me an opportunity to learn to new ways to have fun out of doors, although hiking and backpacking will always be my first love. In addition, training for a race keeps me in better shape when I do go on super “fun” 16 mile bushwacks in the Catalinas. (Look for that “adventure” in my next blog…) Next year my goal is to complete an Olympic distance triathlon… right after I figure out how to make running fun! Anyone else want  to give it a tri?

Canyoneering in southern Arizona? Well, maybe nothing like the deep, dark slots and long rappels of Zion and other areas on the Colorado Plateau but yes, there are many canyons scattered about that present challenging scrambling and sometimes require rope and rappels to successfully navigate.

The idea behind canyoneering is simple really; find an interesting canyon and explore the water course, most often heading downstream. Usually trail-less, these outings involve lots of boulder hopping and sometimes technical rope work. Given the arid climate in southern Arizona, canyons feel like very special places – rugged, cool, shady, big trees, quiet grottos, big drops, with the buzzing, busy, green backdrop of plant and animal life that inhabit these moist mountain corridors.

Boulder hopping in Willow Canyon

Most local canyons do not require rappelling and rope work to descend, but many enthusiasts are drawn to those that do. Admittedly, on some southern Arizona technical canyoneering routes you will ignore the fact that many drops can be bypassed by simply traversing out onto the steep, but walk-able canyon sides on either side as you launch off on a rappel, but what-the-heck, there’s a lot of technical fun to be had out there!

Descending the first cataract

The Seven Cataracts of Willow Canyon is one such technical canyoneering route, and it is surprisingly accessible -- located just off the Mt Lemmon Highway in the Catalina Mountains north of Tucson. This adventure typically begins at Windy Point Vista with a scramble down a steep slope which deposits canyoneers in a lovely section of Willow Canyon that often shows water and is graced with impressively large Arizona Cyprus trees. The first cataract and rappels are not far downstream.

Above the 3^rd rappel; Mt Lemmon Highway in the distance

On our trip down the Cataracts, we negotiated the next 4 drops using five rappels. (It usually makes sense to break the first drop into two rappels.) Our fifth rappel ended at a swimming hole that hikers access from the Seven Cataracts Vista (mile post 9.1) on the Mt Lemmon Highway.

Two more, but less impressive drops remain between the swimming hole and the confluence downstream with Bear Canyon, so we left Willow Canyon here using a faint hiker’s trail on the east side of the canyon. We followed the trail into Bear Canyon and then walked upstream to a second vehicle which had been left at the Green Slabs parking pullout (mile post 9.9) on the Mt Lemmon Highway. This section of Bear Canyon was delightfully beautiful. A few of the rappels in the Seven Cataracts are longer than 100 feet, so we brought two – 200 foot ropes and were glad we did. A more detailed description of the route and its variations can be found here.

The 5th rappel

Difficulty: It’s a little over 1.5 miles from Windy Point to Seven Cataracts Vista, and 2.1 miles from Windy Point to the Green Slabs pullout. None the less, allow plenty of additional time for the rappels.

This route involves technical rope work and conditions can vary tremendously depending especially upon how much water is flowing in Willow Canyon. Sometimes just a trickle moves down the Cataracts, but rain and melting snow can and do produce much greater flows of water. The more flow, the more treacherous conditions become. Don’t hesitate to abandon plans to descend the canyon if water flows seem unmanageable.

Approach this and other canyoneering routes with caution and respect -- all the hazards of canyoneering can easily come into play, including the dangers associated with moving water, hypothermia, hyperthermia, wet slippery rock surfaces, unstable footing, and flash floods. A solid background in rappelling, anchor safety, rope handling, rescue technique, pack management, specific canyoneering skills, and hazard recognition is a must.

Maps: Green Trails Santa Catalina Mountains

Click map for larger image