December 8 -- A Hike On The Snowshed Basin Trail

First off, I'd like to thank Jonathan Patt for his detailed website on the Chiricahua trails (click on that to get to his site; it's really invaluable for its detailed descriptions of each hike in the Chiricahuas). Jonathan will be conducting trail maintenance this weekend; if I were 10 years younger I'd help out --  and still may in the near future, since I use them so much and know how badly some are in need of a little cleanup.  As has been the case these past few days, the day began with a pre-sunrise bang --

Looking east to the Peloncillos

And about 10 minutes later --

False Portal Peak and the Chiricahuas, looking west

Someone on one of the Facebook sites where I post my photos asked me if I "photoshopped" them, meaning if I "enhance" them. For the record, I try to make them look as close to how I viewed them -- no more, no less. I have a circular polarizer on my landscape lens where you can make the colors "pop", and I do use it but only to make the scene before me, well, what the scene before me looks like to the naked eye. Then in my photo program I make it a little sharper, then convert it from RAW to JPEG for the Web, then fine-tune things in Adobe Photoshop Elements 9 to get it as close as possible to how I saw it. About a year ago, a supposed friend made the asinine comment on a photo I'd taken of a squirrel on its hind legs, looking at me -- she said "this photo was Photoshopped". Now, what's the photo program technique to make a squirrel stand up? I don't even know how to do that -- if it CAN be manipulated to do it. Idiot. And she knows very little about cameras. To be a photographer and be accused of "photoshopping" your photos with no evidence -- and you know you don't -- is very frustrating. I've seen many instances where photos are super-saturated, and obviously DIDN'T look like that. And there are of course those instances in wildlife photography where birds are baiting to get into a particular pose -- and the viewers are never told that's how the great wildlife photo was accomplished. With my photos, what you see is what you get -- literally. OK, I'm off my soapbox now...

As the weather was once again un-winterlike, I decided to do another hike. Nothing strenuous, and just for a couple of hours as I wanted to get back to Faranuf before noon. So I decided on the Snowshed Basin Trail. This trail connects the northern end of the Snowshed Trail with the Herb Martyr Trail and runs about 2 miles between the two, which is why it's known as a connector trail. I drove past Portal and went up the Forest Road 42, the paved road through Cave Creek Canyon. Just after the road turns into the Forest Service road, I passed a green Forest Service truck and a fellow wearing what looked like wading pants. (I mention this because he comes back into the story later.) I park at the trailhead; the unmarked trail to Crystal Cave that I took a few days ago is right across the road. I came upon Cave Creek, and had to cross over it to rejoin the trail. Hmmm...Ever since I slipped while crossing South Fork up South Fork Trail a few weeks back, I've been a little leery of crossing a creek. A few of the "stepping stone" rocks across Cave Creek were under water, and I was carrying my pack with the 100-400 lens on my back, and holding the landscape camera is case I came upon a quick shot (otherwise I have it in the back of my pack, where it's a pain to get it out). So I went further up the creek and found a bit of an easier way to get across -- and was successful. The older you get, the less chances you want to take. I don't want to be in a situation where I have to be airlifted to Tucson.  A  friend told me it now costs $50,000; though I have "helicopter" insurance, my medical may not cover it all. Anyway, I'm successful in this instance of creek-hopping. A little later, I come across a major trail intersection --

There are 3 signs, all pointing in different directions. The one you can't see is easy to figure out; it points to where I just came from --

The others are a little confusing. The furthest one goes to Snowshed Trail. I want to go on Snowshed BASIN Trail. Snowshed Trail is going in the opposite direction from where I want to go. But there is no mention of Snowshed BASIN Trail on either sign. But I know I have to go up, not backtrack paralleling the road I'd just come on, so after a "duh...." moment, I take the trail going west (behind me in this photo). It's a bit easy to follow as there is a barbed wire fence paralleling it. The last time I'd done the trail was in April 2014, and I'd come across a work team from a prison (orange jumpers and all the other prisoner dress) who were putting up the fence.  They were being watched over by a sheriff. The prisoners were actually very nice, asking me questions about my camera; I was carrying the 500mm lens at the time. So you kinda know you have to stick somewhat close to the fence to be on the trail. But the trail can get VERY close to the barbed wire fence...more on that later. The tree canopy sometimes opened up and you got great views of Spencer Peak, with Winn Falls, a frozen icicle this time of the year, just barely visible to the right of the peak -- 

 The trail then passes a spur trail to John Hands, which used to be a campground but had its facilities taken out, and is now just a parking lot with a few tables -- 

This in Northern Goshawk territory. Back in 2014, along with coming across the orange-jumpsuited prisoners, I saw a Goshawk. I knew they were here as my friends Noel and Helen Snyder have a cabin here along Cave Creek, and there is a Goshawk nest in a nearby tree. (The nest fell down in a storm, and Helen showed it to me, when it was in the back of her Subaru. A huge nest!) So in 2014 I saw one of the magnificent Goshawks --

The ultimate raptor. It will fly through branches and and any other obstacle to get its prey, sometimes screaming and its red eyes flashing. Luckily, it didn't consider me prey...But it was a no-show this time. The trail follows Cave Creek on a high ridge and eventually reaches the falls at Herb Martyr campground, where you look down at the cascading water. A little further you reach the northern terminus of the Snowshed Basin Trail, where the  connecting trails split off. On the trail to Herb Martyr, you get views of Winn Falls that are about as close as you can get without bushwhacking -- 

This is where my 100-400 lens, with a 1.4x TC added, comes in handy -- 

It's like Winn Falls is suspended in time. And is one big icicle. At 365 feet, it's the longest drop in Arizona. After taking in the view for a few minutes, I start heading back. Now, about that barbed wired fence...There are spots along the trail where it's VERY close to the fence. Like here --

One false move, and...And that's what happened to me. I stumbled, fell, and did a slow roll towards the fence, and its barbed wire. I stopped myself about 6 inches from it. Serendipitous -- or just plain lucky -- once again. Even Jonathan, in his description of the trail, mentions this in the preface to the trail description -- "New fencing was installed along the southern portion of this trail and in some cases was installed closer to the trail, making walking here somewhat more precarious due to the proximity of barbed wire." No truer words have been written... So I dodged a bullet -- or more accurately barbed wire. After that, the rest of the way back with thankfully uneventful. There weren't many birds that I noticed -- a flock or two of Mexican Jays, with their raucous squawking -- which I answered with squawking of my own, and they responded back -- a few Ruby-crowned Kinglets, who winter here, flocks of Juncos, that also responded to my "pishing". Here's an inquisitive Pink-sided Junco -- 

Little cuties!  I came back to the 3-sign intersection, crossed Cave Creek and ended up with a wet boot -- but had another great hike. Now, about that guy with the Forest Service truck...As I was heading out of Cave Creek, I saw a helicopter circling around in the near distance. Then I passed a Portal Rescue EMT vehicle, and there was the fellow strapped on a gurney, being attended to by 3 people. One of them was my friend Jackie Lewis, who lives 5 miles away in Paradise but is a member of Portal Rescue. When I got back to Faranuf, that helicopter had taken off, and another helicopter took its place. Then a sheriff's car, followed by a Border Patrol vehicle, came up Portal Road with their lights flashing and sirens going. A lot of drama for such a small place... I later found out that the Forest Service employee had a stroke while on the job. He was airlifted by helicopter and taken to the nearest (hopefully) hospital, which would now be in Tucson, 180 miles to the west, as the hospital in Douglas, 50 miles to the south, is now closed. It's the first time I'd seen the helicopter airlift in action -- and this is what I'd have to go through if, heaven forbid, anything happened to me here...

I'd like to add a postscript. I know there are those out there who would lecture me on my taking chances going out on these hikes alone. To which I reply -- it's my choice. I'm 59 years old. I think I can make my own decisions now -- and be held responsible for them. Sure, I could have hurt myself if I had rolled right into the barbed wire. I could also have hurt myself if I'd encountered a mountain lion. Or a black bear. Or a rattlesnake at Faranuf. Or tripped over something in my house. So what am I supposed to do -- stay in bed? (That's dangerous, too; you can get bedsores from that -- or roll over and fall out of bed.) So I'll take my chances, and know fully well the consequences if things go "wrong".  I've been hiking and backpacking, mostly solo, for over 30 years now -- and I'm still alive. And I've also had some of the greatest experiences and moments of my entire life "out there". I've been in a few "hairy" situations before, such as losing the trail in the remote Jarbidge Mountains. But I obviously re-found it as I'm here.  So -- don't be too cautious. I don't take chances; I know what my limits are ( and they're getting more numerous as time goes on). But life is a gamble; I knew that going in. And besides I'd much rather meet my end on a trail, here in the Chiricahuas, than in a hospital attached to a hose coming from a suitcase. OK, I'm off my soapbox -- again...  :o)