Hiking the Arizona Trail

The Santa Rita Passage starts at an elevation of about 5,000 feet and, though I can see the shady pines of the Mount Wrightson Wilderness ahead, prickly pear, yucca and sunshine dominate this section of the trail.

A recent monsoon rain has washed the sky. The air, the mountains, even the rocks and plants look scrubbed clean. Monsoon wildflowers--yellow and purple and white--dot the grassy fields on either side of the trail. The track climbs steadily into the Santa Ritas and, to Sukha's great relief, it crosses several more streams and creeks.

After several miles, the gradual incline takes me above the last of the ocotillo and into the first of the pines. The Santa Ritas, topping out at 9,453-foot Mount Wrightson, rise abruptly from the desert floor to create one of southern Arizona's remarkable sky islands. The distinct ecological zones overlap at this mid-elevation, with yucca plants growing in the shade of pine trees.

I reach the top of a hill and turn to look back. The road is hidden from view, buried in the folds of canyons and washes. But what I do see stops me in my tracks. Gazing south from this vantage point, I can see the Patagonia Mountains and the Canello Hills and beyond, to range after range receding into Mexico. The Huachuca Mountains rise out of the plains to the southeast; they seem only a short walk away in the clear desert air.

I finally turn away from the captivating vista in deference to Sukha. He's panting and impatient, exhausted but too excited to rest. I understand his enthusiasm. The wide jeep track is more like two trails running side by side than a road. And with the gentle slope, easy walking and warm sun shining down, the path seems to pull me effortlessly along.

When the road ends, however, the effort starts. Forest Road 72 comes to an abrupt halt at the edge of the Mount Wrightson Wilderness. From here the Walker Basin Trail ascends steeply, slowing even the dog as we make our way up a series of switchbacks and into the dense pines at the top of the ridge.

A new trail descends from the ridgetop into Casa Blanca Canyon. The dirt on this two-mile path looks freshly turned, as if the shovels and picks have just been put away. On the descent through the wilderness area, Mount Wrightson's rocky summit appears frequently in gaps in the trees; it looks like a bald head sitting atop shoulders of green. The hike down the new trail is smooth and shady, and soon I hear the murmur of a creek in the ravine below.

At Bear Springs, Sukha trots ahead to the clear pool and starts lapping at the water. I sit on a rock next to him with my water filter, feeling slightly envious as I watch him instantly quench his thirst.