TANQUE VERDE RIDGE TRAIL HIKE

It was a beautiful day in the desert here in Saguaro National Park outside Tucson Arizona. We were heading into the park to go hiking which is what we do in every park we go to. After stopping at the entrance gate, we drove in a few miles and pulled the RV into a space in a relatively empty parking lot. Its mid-week and its the winter which means small crowds. Yeah! The lot is by a picnic area that also contained the trailhead (start) of the Tanque Verde Ridge Trail. I had asked the ranger for hiking recommendations when we first stopped into the visitors center and after asking me a few questions to ascertain the level of difficulty and distance we were looking for, he had recommended this one. It was moderate to difficult in nature as it wound its way up through the desert but one of its attractions was the fact that it would take us through the desert and then up into grasslike meadows and eventually into forests as it gained altitude. I really thrill at hiking through the different ecosystems with nothing but our legs and lungs to get us there. This fit the bill.

We made some sandwiches, threw in a bag of almonds, and some twizzlers, filled our water bottles and adjusted our day packs. Jackson assumed his position on the couch with that sad-sack look he gets when he knows we’re leaving and not taking him with us. Laurie tossed him a few biscuits and we headed out the door, closing it behind us, and knowing that at this point in the trip, he knows he is in for a long nap. We lock the door and head to the trailhead.

It was a good day for hiking in the desert. Unusually overcast and cool, probably down in the low 60’s, with a slight chance of a sprinkle. That was unheard of as the desert looked like it hadn’t received any precipitation for months. There was even a slight breeze blowing. I immediately thought that we could increase our hiking pace in these conditions since we had less of a chance of overheating. We crossed the parking lot and headed down the start of the trail. It meandered along as many of the other desert trails we had hiked on had, winding through prickly pear, saguaros ocotillo, and drum cacti among others, scrub grass and small bushes spaced out on the dry rocky soil. In short order the trail started up a low rise at the top of which we turned around to marvel at the early view of the western horizon with the city of Tucson spread out in the flat valley below. We headed up a second rise and turned for an even better view. More pictures and we again turned and headed up, noticing that the hills we were climbing were getting larger and leading up to small mountains. Little did we know that we would be hiking up, and nothing but up, for the next two and half hours, or 5 miles, until we decided to have lunch. Laurie and I are silent hikers for the most part. We don’t usually carry on fluffy conversations while hiking. Most of our talk is when we see something of interest and point it out to the other person for viewing and comments. We might mention that we’re hungry or thirsty. It’s not that our minds aren’t active. There are all kinds of things to think about while putting one foot in front of the other on a desert trail. Some of your thoughts are just passing and some are deep. Occasionally we’ll throw out some philosophical thought or question to the other and talk about them but those conversations usually don’t last longer than 5 minutes. Mostly, you are quiet and listening to the serenade of your boots crunching the gravel underfoot, or grunting at an exceptionally steep stretch or smiling when it levels out and you can put some yards quickly behind you and give your hamstrings a break.

My wife is a good hiker. She has let me drag her up and down mountains and across deserts for the past six months. These have not been hikes in the park on paved paths. The best hikes are the hard ones. They are the ones that take you to parts of the parks where you can truly commiserate with nature in solitude. They are the hikes that dissuade the masses because of their difficulty and that means you don’t have to share your experience with a mass of tourists. For that reason, I usually am attracted to the ones that the park service rates as moderate or strenuous. That means there is going to be some significant vertical gain, switchbacks, etc. and will take a number of hours to complete. For six months, she has let me do the research and pick the hikes and with a few complaints to start, she has been a trouper on the trail. The hikes are long and often demanding and require strength and stamina and she has performed admirably. I didn’t see today as any different and after about an hour or so of upward movement she started voicing her complaints about how she was getting annoyed at this constant uphill drudgery and that this trail better not be all up hill. I told her I didn’t know but it could be. This was obviously not what she wanted to hear. During that first hour of hiking the weather had changed significantly. The clouds were gone, the sky was clear, the sun was out, and the temperature was climbing. It was getting hotter and blazing sun and heat to Laurie is like garlic and a cross to a vampire. She doesn’t do well in those conditions and had already experienced the symptoms of heat prostration on some other hikes in previous parks. It wasn’t that hot yet but I saw the warming bringing on some negative vibes as the uphill trudge combined with the rising temps prompted comments that were less than positive from her. Her next comment was,“I’m tired of hiking in the desert”. What? Did she just say she was tired of hiking in the desert? For the past 5 weeks we had been hiking in the deserts in Nevada, Utah, southern Colorado, and southern California and I had quickly become a walking advertisement and proponent for these hikes to anyone who would listen. I had come to completely appreciate the beauty of the desert. The colors, the big skies, the geological formations, the beautiful weather, the amazing cacti, etc. She had as well. So I asked her, “what do you mean you’re TIRED of hiking in the desert?”. “It’s boring”. What? Boring? Are you kidding? I couldn’t believe my ears. She couldn’t mean it. Oh boy, this is worse than I thought. She was progressing to that point that I wanted avoided at all costs, the “I’m not going any further”, comment. I sensed it was close and that was bad as I was on cruise control and enjoying every minute of the hike and if she hit the emergency break on it, I wasn’t going to go any further as well. No way I would leave her to wait or to go back alone. “Laur”, I said. “We won’t be hiking in the deserts on this trip for very much longer before we move along the flat gulf states over to Florida. Then in early spring, we will be heading up through the Smokies and Shennendoah and up into the northeast and we will be dealing with swarming insects and cold and rain and wet cloths and dismal, cloudy skies and then, you will look back and wish you were back here in this warm, sunny, dry, insect free trail.” She didn’t reply. I was hoping that the truth of the matter had gotten through the upward heat inspired distaste to our Tanque Verde Ridge Trail hike on this beautiful day. No reply. No reply is better than a negative reply. She might actually be thinking about what I just said. There wasn’t any way to know. I kept moving and she kept hiking. I rounded a bend in the trail to see two deer up ahead. One a buck and the other a female. I pointed them out to her. Laurie pointed out another buck off to the side. Quite suddenly, one buck took off after the female soon to be chased by the second buck as well. Back and forth they went across the side of the mountain in their reproductive competition until they disappeared over its top. We crested the ridge to see them continuing their chase on the next hill we were coming to. Laurie was rooting for the female. It was becoming apparent now that each hill/mountain we crested was going to be followed by another one, only higher. We began our hike in the foothills but were now fully ensconced in the mountains. Well, to be fair, they were something between big hills and small mountains with rounded tops. We circled around to the west side of the next ridge and eventually the deer chased themselves out of our sight. About two and a half hours into our hike it was getting towards noon and our stomachs were reminding us of the time. By now, the lower desert had given way to grassy slopes with few cacti and more bushes and an occassional tree. This wasn’t the type of grass you saw on the hills in the Sound of Music. It was about two and a half feet tall and grew in bunches. It was also thick and very coarse to the touch. “I’m ready for lunch”, she said. “How about one more ridge and then we’ll stop”. Nope. She was ready to stop and eat and so was I, though I feared this would become the turn around point as well. We worked our way a little further up the slope to a couple of small tree’s that were about 8 feet tall and provided the shade we could enjoy while eating our lunch. We checked out the ground for some flat rocks devoid of ants or other such creatures and plopped our butts down. Out came our water bottles and our individually wrapped peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Our perch gazed out over a rounded top of our ridge covered with yellow grass, a few small trees, and rock piles and then dropped to the valley below where Tucson now seemed so much smaller. Far in the distance on the other side of the valley was another mountain range, similar to ours, just on the west side of the valley instead of the east. We proceeded to consume our lunch, the likes of which would never taste so wonderful as it did sitting here high on a ridge with this beautiful vista surrounding us. We chatted as we ate and talked of things that I can’t recount now, though I’m sure it had to do with the nature around us and maybe our trip in general and where we would be heading when we eventually hiked down and got into the RV. This is often the nature of conversations when you are truly traveling with a completely flexible itinerary. We got to the end of our sandwiches, put down a final guzzle of water, and packed away the trash. The moment of truth had arrived. Were we going to turn around and head back or could we squeeze a few more ridges out of the day. I suggested we continue but only to the top of the next ridge or so. Without agreeing or disagreeing, she started hiking forward. I was happy. I knew Laurie was good to go. For whatever reason, whether it was my logic of no bugs and such, or maybe she was just feeling better after lunch in the shade, we were moving forward. Moving forward to better views. Moving forward to unknown interactions with nature similar to the ones that had so grabbed us and stroked our souls on previous hikes. Moving forward with physical demands that made us appreciate our bodies abilities to get us to these spots in nature that our future bodies would not always allow us to do. I was also smiling because this was Laurie. Sometimes she just had to get some complaints out and get pissed off or mad at something in order to continue. I knew she truly loved all the nature that we exposed ourselves to on these jaunts and although she never vocalized it, I think she also was proud of the many physical accomplishments she put under her belt with the hikes on this trip. I was also smiling because I truly enjoy having her as my hiking partner. She’s my wife, my best friend, my complementary soul mate, and my sounding board. She appreciates the same things as me. We stand in wonder at sunsets, and the colors of flowers, and the universe of stars above us, little birds that drop onto the trail in front of us, the shape of the mountains, even chipmunks that stand on the branches along the trails even though we’ve seen them a thousand times before. She draws the line at my amazement of insects! She see’s things that I miss. She pushes through the tough times and gets to the end even though there might be a few moments of questioning her desire to quit and go back. We climb to the top of the ridge and then add another one for good measure. The views are higher up and they are better than the ones before. The next mountain would be even better but there’s no need to push it. We have put in a good 5 miles and will need to get back to address Jacksons needs as well so we hang for a few minutes on the top of the ridge, take some more photos and then turn to head down. I joke that she always hikes faster heading back to the RV than hiking away from it as it represents relaxation, food, drink, and Jackson. We chuckle and pick the pace up. It is another 5 miles to get back but only takes about two thirds the amount of time to get down as it took to get up. We reach the RV hot and ready for a cool drink and a rest. As usual, Jackson is waiting and bolts out the door, doing spins and jumps around us, unable to contain himself and his excitement. I know he’s excited to see us but he also wants his afternoon meal. His internal clock for eating is as accurate as an atomic clock and feeding him is one of the first things we do upon returning. We guzzle more water to replace that which was lost in the desert. We shower in the RV and feel amazingly revived. It’s late in the afternoon so we head to a local hangout that’s located close to the park entrance, grab a seat at their outdoor bar, order some cold beers, eventually some food, and listen to some live western tinged music on the patio. The guitar player eventually plays 4 of my requests and we stay until he finishes for the night. We head back to the RV. It was a good day and we both are happy and that’s the way it’s supposed to be. Everything is good and right. Tomorrows gonna be another one.