|
|||||||
|
|
|
|||||
|
|
|||||||
Of all the natural wonders, geological oddities and scenic vistas found in Northern Arizona, the most imposing feature is the dormant caldera known as the San Francisco Peaks. Towering 5,000 feet above Flagstaff, which is itself some 7,000 feet above sea level, the peaks are what remains of a massive single volcano that blew itself to pieces. Experts estimate the elevation of the original peak to have been 16,000 to 18,000 feet prior to its Mount St. Helens-style explosion.
The group of peaks that remain has been somewhat tamed by roads, ski lifts, and a network of hiking trails. I say "somewhat" tamed, because the effort required to tackle any of the San Francisco peaks is still quite substantial.
The highest is Humphreys, which at 12,600+ is the highest point in Arizona. The adjacent Agassiz Peak is the second highest point at 12,356, followed by neighboring Fremont (11,969) and the rest of the encircling peaks. It is technically illegal to summit Agassiz, and the trails to the others are somewhat remote, so Humphreys is the "easiest" to climb by default.
The trailhead is at the lower parking lot for the Flagstaff Snow Bowl ski area, which is actually situated on the side of Agassiz. Elevation of the trailhead is about 8800', and the trail is about 4.5 miles each way, so the total vertical climb is just under 1,000' per mile of trail. This isn't too much different from some of the bigger Adirondack peaks, except that the altitude numbers are much higher at Humphreys.
The hike begins easily enough, ambling across a gentle ski slope. It soon enters a thick forest of aspens and pines, and despite the aspens, feels much more like one of the aforementioned Adirondack trails, since it bears no resemblance to the typical southwestern environment. Because the trail looks like the Adirondacks, and it climbs and rolls like any in the Adirondacks, it is quite unnerving to find yourself out of breath after the first hundred yards! Considering that the trailhead is over a mile higher than any in the east, we simply weren't used to expending so much energy in the comparably thin air.
The trail switchbacks steadily up the lower flanks of Humphreys, moving through the aspens and into the towering Englemann spruce. The trail occasionally crosses streams and one or two rockslides before the forest begins to open up. The first real view is of a narrow valley between arms of Humphreys and Aggassiz, and a glance upward at the "saddle," which is actually a col, but after all this is the west. Once the trail crosses a wide talus slope (the trail is quite stable and clearly cut through the scree), it begins to climb quite steeply to the saddle.
Photo: Crossing one of the talus slopes on the lower portion of Humphreys. As you can see, the trail is well cut into the slope, and quite stable. This is the point at which the forest begins to thin a bit; the "saddle" is visible in the upper right. The high slope going up toward the right is part of Agassiz. This photo was taken during our descent.
The saddle is situated at about 3.5 miles of the overall distance; at 11,800' only 800' remain. It is a popular spot to take a break; we ate a very late lunch and then elected to cache most of our supplies in the vicinity. The saddle affords an excellent view of Agassiz, Humphreys, and the deep abyss of the inner basin, which is the remains of the once fiery caldera. It also shows quite plainly that a couple of rather major humps stand between hiker and summit.
Photo: At timberline, with the "saddle" below and behind. The pinnacle of Agassiz is in the upper right. To the left of the saddle is the inner basin or "caldera."
Leaving the comfort of the saddle, the trail becomes nasty almost immediately. It is steep, and the surface alternates between scree and loose lava grit. Handholds are required occasionally, but it never ventures into anything dangerous or uncomfortable. The forest, stunted and almost nonexistent at the saddle, vanishes into the alpine zone in just a few minutes. At that point it is just hiker, trail, rock, and a few plants indigenous to Labrador.
After a brutal climb that seems more vertical than horizontal, the summit is in sight! No...it's a false summit. Then finally...another false summit. Eventually the trail reaches a spot where the ultimate goal is visible, as well as the final false summit. (see photo at right)
Between the altitude, the strenuous climb, the crumbly rock, and general delirium, I had to be reassured when I finally did reach the real summit. I kept looking for more "up," but there was none to be found. All of Arizona unfolded beneath my feet. To the south, Sedona, and further still, the Mazatzals looked like tiny pimples. To the west, a few mountains, and what had to be the borders of Nevada and California. To the north, the Grand Canyon and Utah. To the east, Sunset Crater, and the endless range country. This was easily the greatest distance -- and the most land -- I've ever seen from one viewpoint.
