My Camelback Mountain Coverage Wins Award

It seems my love for the pink rockpile is being shared by more people than ever. And sadly, the mountain has been in the news because people have died there. It's what I call the dark side of the place.

For my January 2014 article about the beauty and danger of Camelback, I wrote:

 If you're not careful, Camelback will hurt -- or kill -- you.

Which is one of its most interesting aspects. It has been preserved as a place where you can test your limits. The summit trails are tough, no matter what your fitness level, especially in extreme summer heat. Climbers can seek higher cliffs, while the plain adventurous can scout "secret" trails to sublime, maze-like hideaways of rock.

The dark side of all this risky fun is that deaths occur at Camelback. The city couldn't provide an official tally of how many, but news reports register six between 2008 and 2012: three from falling, two from heart attacks, and a suspected suicide. No deaths were recorded in 2013, but rescues are common.

Six fatalities between '08 and '12. Yet since that article was published a year and a half ago, five people met their ends on Camelback in four separate accidents. I don't want this website to focus too exclusively on the rescues and/or death at Camelback, so I'd like to wrap all that coverage up here in one story.

In June, Seattle resident Eric Fernandes disappeared for three days on Camelback. The search-and-rescue operation turned out to be less robust than many hoped for. I was astonished at news coverage of how the rescue had been called off on the first day due to heat. I knew that plenty of people would be hiking that day. The heat would keep the crowds off, but the regulars would be going up and down during the park's open hours, as usual. So why weren't the rescuers combing the mountainside, looking for Eric?

I decided to explore this issue thoroughly when I got back, and the result was the following cover story:

The Tragic Three-Day Disappearance of Hiker Eric Fernandes on Camelback Mountain

Eric's body was found by a hiker three days after he disappeared. For some reason, he'd ended up far below the Echo Canyon Trail in a spot I hadn't explored before. Using the GPS coordinates from a police report, I found the exact spot where he'd been found. A stuffed animal was placed there -- I thought it had been from a family member, but I later learned none of the family had climbed down there. It must have been brought by one of the firefighters who participated in the body recovery and brief investigation to find out what might have happened. He'd been seen near the top by a witness who thought he looked tired. But no one knows for sure why he veered off the trail and climbed into sort of a box canyon, with steep terrain to one side and cliffs on the other.

I reported in a follow-up story that the coroner's report showed Eric had died of heat-related illness.

I talked to Eric's father. This kind of tragedy is unthinkable for a parent. I hope fewer people go through this kind of thing in part because of the info in this blog.

Gary Johnstone, a technical-rescue team member and fifteen-year veteran of the Phoenix Fire Department, died along with fifteen-year-old Trevor Crouse after they fell while rappelling on the Sugar Cube, a forty- or fifty-foot high formation just off the Echo Canyon Trail, not too far up from trailhead. I often see people practicing out there. In December, I published a story based on the police report. It contained a number of details I found worth including. I was interested in the sling Gary had used to tie to the big eyebolt in the rock at the top of the Sugar Cube, and how it went missing.

Picture of the ill-fated rappelling session just before the accident. According to the police report, a hiker snapped this just because he found the rappellers interesting, then later turned in the picture as evidence. I obtained it and the police report on the incident through a public records request to the Phoenix Police Department.

According to the officer who wrote the report:

"Evidence shows that a component of the failed anchor system was a piece of orange webbing strap," ... "It is unknown whether the failure was in the strap itself, or in a knot tied in the strap. The orange strap has not been located as of the writing of this report, in spite of exhaustive efforts..."

As I speculated in a follow-up:

So what happened? One possibility is that, despite his extensive experience, Johnstone didn't tie the orange webbing correctly to the eye bolt, or to himself. His son told Branch that Johnstone tugged on the orange sling after fastening it to the steel anchor, so perhaps the bad knot -- if that's what it was -- was where the sling attached to his harness.

Dougald MacDonald, executive editor for the American Alpine Club, agreed with that assessment but had some detail to add. We talked in May and he credited me in his short write-up of the incident for the 2015 edition of the Alpine Club's Accidents in North American Mountaineering, which was just released. In his piece, he postulates that Gary probably had an overhand bend knot in his anchor sling instead of the more-common water knot.

Before the year was out, another apparent heat-related death occurred, that of a 22-year-old Brazilian college student Emanuel Rodrigo Biana Costa Bezerra, who had just started an engineering program at Arizona State University.

I found this picture in a Brazilian online newspaper. It was apparently taken shortly before the student's death. Emanuel is the one with the red shirt over his shoulders.

In July, British visitor Ravinder Takhar died while hiking Echo Canyon Trail with her family. That incident drew worldwide attention. But Camelback had been gaining in press attention even before then. As I wrote in a August 10th article:

Enthusiastic visitors swamped the new parking lot, which still was relatively small at 135 spaces. The traffic situation now is as bad as, or worse than, before the upgrade. That's partially because visitation to Echo Canyon appears to have increased this year, officials say.

No wonder: Camelback received heightened attention and rave reviews when the Valley hosted Super Bowl XLIX on February 1.

The Wall Street Journal published a well-written article on January 31 about Phoenix's "Vertical Central Park."Time listed Camelback Mountain as number-two on a list of the top-seven must-do activities for Super Bowl fans to consider while in town. Pop superstar Katie Perry, who put on the event's halftime show, mentioned the mountain in an interview with the Arizona Republic: "I have hiked Camelback Mountain. You are talking to a Super Bowl performer who has hiked your mountain. So I know about you guys a bit.

My two cover articles on Camelback in 2014, the overview/history piece and the Eric Fernandes piece, received a second place award for Statewide Environmental Reporting in the Arizona Press Club annual award's. Here's what the kind judge had to say about them:


“Stern first sounds a clarion and prescient warning about the risks of hiking a popular trail outside Phoenix. Then when disaster strikes, he pivots and attacks the issue from the other side, exposing flaws in the response community’s readiness and rescue efforts. A fine effort filled with narrative, writerly flourishes.” 

I appreciate the award very much. But award or not, my goal is always first to tell newsworthy stories about people, and to give the public information they can use.

Echo Canyon Re-Opens, and More From Pioneer Bob Owens on Early Days of Camelback Climbing

This is the sweet image that ran with my January 16, 2014, cover article in the Phoenix New Times on Camelback Mountain. It was a great experience to be able to do that story, which had the nice hook of being timed roughly to coincide with the re-opening of Echo Canyon Trail following the closure. As it turns out, our timing couldn't have been better. We had the article planned for the 16th, and then the city announced the re-opening would be on the 15th. Since the online version of feature articles appears the afternoon before the print copies hit the streets, the article actually came out on the 15th. Here it is:

Camelback Mountain Combines Beauty, History, and Adventure in One Fragile Phoenix Park

The highlight for me was interviewing Gary Driggs, the Camelback climbing pioneer who bagged the first ascent of the Monk. Driggs' two books on Camelback are the authoritative sources on the history and iconic nature of Camelback as a Valley landmark and source of beauty and adventure. Much was left on the cutting-room floor of this story, most tragically the interview with ASU geology professor Stephen Reynolds and his fascinating info on the composition and evolution of the mountain. We're writing for general audience and I appreciate my editor's cuts, but I'll post that info here at some point for posterity's sake.

I went to the media preview of the Echo Canyon re-opening, and also showed up on opening day. Here's the blog post I wrote about that:

Echo Canyon Recreation Area at Camelback Mountain Reopens with Parking Problems

Then there was the slideshow that ran online with the both of these articles, featuring pictures by photographer Andrew Pielage from his jaunt up Cholla Trail:

Closer Look: Hiking Camelback Mountain's Cholla Trail in Phoenix

As usual, I'm behind on my Camel-blogging. I've saved up a few things that I hope to crank out in 2014. Last year turned out to be second-least-productive year on this blog, with four entries, better only than in 2009, when I managed to squeak out only two. Truth be told, I'd rather hike Camelback than write about it, much as I love to warm up a keyboard.

I've hiked the new Echo Canyon trail twice now. I really like it. The first part winds nicely through Echo Canyon, giving dramatic views of the nearby cliffs, and you can barely tell where the old trail was. I do miss the shock of the first railroad-tie part, which sapped strength within seconds of starting the trail and always made me feel like I either stretched out too much or not enough before getting on it. That being said, I like the fact that it's slightly longer, allowing more time to take in the scenery while marching up the incline. The new railings further up seem prudent, as the trail hugs a couple of corners with new, wicked drop-offs of five-to-ten feet that would have definitely caught the newbies and veterans alike off-guard. The new signage is fun and the redeveloped parking lot and bathrooms is what it is. The new trail entranceways in Scottsdale like Gateway and Tom's Thumb set an unfairly high bar and Phoenix would have been criticized if it had spent too much. The bathroom facilities and entrance plaza are adequate for their purpose. The parking lot is still too small on nice days, but will be twice as empty on hot days.

On my second run up the trail, I took some time to freesolo up the headwall and to the Monk plateau. Didn't see any of the Christmas garbage I reported from the year before, so if the adventure-traveling teens cleaned up after themselves, I commend them.

Bob Owens contacted me again after my article ran, and he gave me some more info about the early days of climbing in Echo Canyon. As my previous post on him detailed, he's the guy who made the first ascent of Suicide Direct. He told me on February 14th that he'd talked to Ben Pedrick, (of Pedrick's Chimney fame), the day before by phone.

I'm just gonna go ahead and re-print his entire email to me, so everything that follows in this post is from Owens:





Bob Owens - (photo submitted by Bob)

PEDRICK'S CHIMNEY.  It was  first climbed by Ben in the Summer or Fall of 1946.  He climbed it both up and down without aid, and there was no sign of a previous climb. He said prayers first.     Another boy named Curtis was with him.  Ben had helped him up the front wall, but Curtis remained at the bottom of the Chimney.  This was before the Kachinas had been organized, and Ray Garner had taught them climbing techniques.  Garner was a professional photographer of Documentaries, and had learned rock-climbing on the Palisades of the Hudson River in New York, and had later been a guide in the Tetons, along with the big names there, Fritz Wiessner, Glen Exell (Do I have that right?)

During 1946 and 1947, what were apparently first ascents were made by Dick Hart on the Hart Route, and Ed George on the George Route.  Ben's younger brother Lee Pedrick (later killed in an airplane crash) did a first ascent on the neck route, before any access hiking route had been built to it.

At the East end of the Head, along a ridge on the left side, Ben did a first ascent on what they called the Echo Canyon Route in 1947 or 1948.  Ben described it as between Suicide Cliff and Echo Canyon.  Their first mountain rescue there was of Chris Tountas, with an article in the Gazette.  There was another hiking route or scrambling route on the South.  On the north side was a short route on a boulder called Pateman's Split, Ben thinks. Ralph Pateman died during the Korean War from a helicopter crash, I believe -- I never knew him, but I found his ashes in a labeled bag on top of the Head circa 1950.  By that time most of the "old Kachinas" I had known were leaving for the Service or college.  There was also a boulder called "Doug's Dandy" on the north side. On the ground, our memories for location of landmarks would likely be better, but that will probably not happen.

Ben recalls the Hart Route as a friction pitch, and only did it once.  I don't think I ever did, but did do the Neck Route and Echo Canyon Routes each once, and Pedrick Chimney several times.  After I joined we neglected Camelback, made a climbing movie, and most of our climbing was in the Superstitions, Eagletails, Kofa Range, and assorted pinnacles like Vulture Peak, many of which turned out to be scrambles, and then the Tetons.  Ray Garner and Lee Pedrick did a first ascent on Agathla in Northern Arizona.  I went  to Law School in Tucson, and except for 3 climbs of Baboquivari, mostly climbed stairs.

Camelback Mountain's Echo Canyon Trail is Open for Hiking! (Well, Three-Quarters of It, and You First Have to Climb Cholla Trail to the Summit)

If you want to have Echo Canyon Trail all to yourself, there's no better time than now.

The trail isn't closed like you may have heard. As usual, the news media steered you wrong. Most of Echo Canyon is open. The catch is that you have to hike to the summit via Cholla Trail to access Echo Canyon.

It's worth it. Echo Canyon is never this depopulated without heavy rain or intense heat. A couple of weeks ago on a Saturday morning, I saw just five people on the trail at 7 a.m. when it was only 73 degrees. Last weekend, on June 8, I saw one woman on the trail during my entire down-and-up hike. I doubt many more came after us, not with the temperature rising so quickly.

Besides the solitude to be found amid the gorgeous, craggy vistas, the lack of people adds to the adventure factor. Echo Canyon always provides a potential for danger. For the solo hiker, an empty Echo Canyon becomes something akin to trails in more remote areas, where beautiful landscapes mask the potential for big trouble. Though you're never from nearby houses or the summit, as the crow flies, with all the mini-canyons and cliffs, plus my overactive imagination, I definitely got a "in-space-no-one-can-hear-you-scream" feeling. No head-to-rock contact, compound fractures or heat-related seizures allowed, not when it might be many minutes, if not hours, before help arrives.

The experienced Camelback hiker will notice that the trail has subtle clues of abandonment: extra gravel in some spots, weeds poking up where before they would have been trampled. So cool. And the workout is phenomenal, of course, with its two Camelback summits. A very solid, tough, scenic hike.

Lack of preparation is one reason the west side of the mountain isn't seeing many visitors despite a sign at the top telling people the upper three-quarters is open. The first time I hiked Cholla since Echo closed, I contemplated going down the other side but ruled it out because I didn't have the time or water. That's clearly the case for many Cholla hikers who might otherwise descend Echo Canyon and re-ascend the mountain.

Going up both sides of Camelback is one of my favorite ways to hike the mountain. Typically, I start from the Echo Canyon side, but I've have started from Cholla as well. It's a long hike, though. Cholla's 2.8 miles round-trip, and Echo is 2.4 -- so, 5.2 miles with 2,400 feet of vertical. I take anywhere from two-and-a-half to three hours to complete what I call the "Full Tour." (Less time with the currently shortened Echo Canyon trail.) I bring two one-liter Nalgene bottles packed with ice and water when it's warm or hot. An inexperienced, out-of-shape hiker might take twice as long.

The turnaround point is an ugly fence at the top of the steep handrail section. I was shocked at the sight of it. How dare they fence me out! Just till the fall, I kept telling myself.

How did everyone come to believe that all of Echo Canyon trail was closed? That's what the news media reported. I inadvertently spread some of the misinformation. But don't blame me and my ilk too harshly.  City officials told us the whole trail would be closed. It also says on the city's website that the "Trailhead and Summit Trail are closed through fall."

I'd been avoiding Camelback since the Echo Canyon closure, hitting the McDowells and South Mountain more often in its place. I love Cholla, but when it's crowded, it's too narrow for my liking. Worse than Piestewa Peak. But now with most of Echo open again, I've added C-back back into the mix, which is a great thing. Having missed it for a while and done trails nearly as steep, such as the east-side Tom's Thumb trail, which has a lot of switchbacks, I still believe Echo Canyon beats everything in the Valley in an effort-per-meter contest, not to mention the fact that it's the prettiest little red mountain outside of Sedona.

Cholla Trail in the morning.

Echo Canyon Trail, about 7 a.m., at 73 degrees on a Saturday -- and no one's here.

End of the line -- for now.

Smart water, dumb people.

I picked up about 20 empty water bottles in my last two Cholla hikes. Part of the reason trash accumulates on Cholla rather than Echo Canyon is the chossy down-slopes right off the trail. Easy for the occasional idiot to chuck a bottle, but tough for someone to clean up. When I have time, I enjoy the opportunity to down-climb those slopes, looking for solid rock to step on and being careful to avoid loose boulders and what look like cryptobiotic soil crusts.
  

Camelback Mountain Rescues Steady in 2012; Included One for Tim Hightower, Former Arizona Cardinals Player

Tim Hightower's March 2012 Camelback rescue.

At least nine people have been rescued in six incidents so far this year at Camelback Mountain. Most were treated for heat exhaustion and dehydration.

The two primary hiking trails of Camelback, Echo Canyon and Cholla Trails, are both just over a mile long. That little number, "1," has sure fooled a lot of people. The rocky trails rise more than 1,000 feet in that mile-plus walk, and both are not only steep, they've got places where the use of hands is mandatory. The effects of a heat illness can set in within minutes of a scorching summer hike up Camelback Mountain under full sunlight. Even in the morning and evening, or in spring or fall, when the sun's rays are less intense, susceptible people with too little water can die in as little as two to four hours on any mountain trail in Phoenix. I'd estimate at least one hiker per year has died from the heat in the last few years, though the average went up a little with the deaths of three aging gold-seekers from Utah who died in the Supes a couple of summers ago.

Besides the deaths and heat-related rescues on Camelback, no doubt many more hikers have suffered a miserable outing because they brought too too little water. On a very hot day, 110-plus, I (generally) don't hike between 10 a.m. and 5 p.m. Outside of those hours is fine, even if it's 111 or slightly higher, though if the air's too thick with humidity -- not uncommon in cumulonimbus-heavy monsoon season -- even 105 can be oppressive enough to make me wish I was at the gym. If you're not very acclimated to the heat, go with the temperature you're comfortable in.

In the heat at Camelback, the pale red landscape becomes like magma. The cicadas providing a sizzling soundtrack. Mini-canyons are brick ovens. The heat zaps strength from your legs and fries your brain. If sunlight has lit up a rock formation for very long, forget about climbing. The stone feels like an electric stove-top on high. Except for those cicadas, it's lonely. Very few people are out here with you. No need to worry about rattlesnakes on super-hot days -- they're in their cool burrows, not being Crockpotted by the air-temperature.

I take about a liter of water for every hour I expect to be at Camelback in temperatures over 95-100. I pack a Nalgene bottle with ice, then fill the spaces with water. Doing this ensures I'll still have at least some ice, and therefore really cold water, by the time I get to the top. On the hottest days, I'll take an additional small water bottle or even another ice-packed Nalgene. I move slower in extreme heat, adding to the total time out there. It's also good to dump icewater over my head or body at times. Getting lost or going too slow on a hot day can turn into a nightmare if you don't have a similar quantity of water on you. One rescue two years ago involved a couple of women who were on one of the main trails for five hours before authorities were called. After writing about that one for Valley Fever, I also published "Ten Tips for Avoiding Heat Stroke."

Here's what the National Park Service's Grand Canyon site has to say:

During the summer months, your fluid/electrolyte loss can exceed two quarts per hour if you hike uphill in direct sunlight during the hottest part of the day.

If you've never done Echo Canyon or Cholla Trail before and you're not with anyone who has, it will probably take about 45 minutes or more to get to the top. That means you should take at least one liter. Taking another liter or even two might be wise, because you'll want that much water if you spend three hours up there.


Heat-related illnesses are probably the most common reason for mountain rescues on Camelback. But as I've documented previously, a surprising variety of problems can happen up there.

Besides not bringing enough water on a hot day, I see a lot of hikers on the trail near sunset without flashlights. They end up having to pick their way down the boulders in the near-dark. A scary experience for some. Fortunately, I've found that it never gets completely dark at Camelback. On a Grand Canyon trail below the rim on a moonless night, the darkness envelopes you like a liquid if you shut off flashlight. It's like the darkness inside a cave except for the canopy of stars. Camelback trails, by contrast, are always bathed in a faint, eerie glow of reflected city lights. I've intentionally hiked Echo Canyon at night without a headlamp, but I know the trail quite well. Most visitors caught after dark without a light are in a for a struggle and an adventure. Sometimes they go off the main trails, making things worse. In March, that's what happened to former Arizona Cardinals player Tim Hightower.

Hightower and friend in the media spotlight before rescue.

Press accounts say Hightower and a female friend were hiking the mountain when they got off trail in the dark and phoned for a rescue. Channel 10 News showed the burly player with his head hung low, hopping into an SUV without talking to a camera crew. The announcer notes with glee that he seems embarrassed.

I find the incident ironic not just because a burly he-man pro football player needed the rescue, but because in the latter two years of Hightower's time with the Cards, John Lott, the team's strength and conditioning coach, was having players march up and down Echo Canyon trail to supplement their exercise routines. In other words, you'd think Hightower would have known what he was doing on Camelback. This rescue, though, brings up other issues -- overzealous rescue and the overreliance on cell phones to save our butts. These people were nowhere near death's door. I'm quite sure that Hightower and his friend would have figured out a way down and out of the 400-plus-acre park, which is surrounded by city lights. Either they would have done it that night and ended up scratched and bruised, or would have suffered a miserable night on the hill and walked out in the morning. But odds are they would have been fine, and unless their cell phone battery was low, there was no life-or-death reason to call in the cavalry. Not then, anyway.

Another way to look at it: The city of Phoenix has the helicopter and all of those firefighters sitting around, probably with nothing better to do, so why not use that phone? Perhaps Hightower would have sucked it up and rescued himself if he'd been alone, but he had the woman to think of. Then again, maybe I'm being sexist -- maybe she's the bigger outdoorsperson and he insisted on calling in the rescue. Either way, one or both made the decision to call, and they likely knew the TV crew would show up. They always do.

Here's the roundup, as best I could find on the Internet:

* In January, ABC-15 broadcast a story about how 10 people had been rescued from Camelback Mountain in a two-week period.

*  The Tim Hightower Camelback Debacle came in March.


* June: A woman in flip-flips and little water is overcome by the heat at Camelback.

* July: Two men suffer heat problems on Echo Canyon Trail. One is cramping up so bad, firefighters decide to airlift him out.

* August: Steve Amren of San Antonio got lost while hiking Echo Canyon. Somehow, he became "stuck in a ravine" and also became seriously dehydrated. Here's his quote from that story: "I just got up on the wrong path, and I got into an area where I couldn't get out because I was too tired."

* September: Two teens start hiking Camelback at about 1 p.m. Three hours later, they're off the main trail, lost and suffering from severe dehydration. This one shows clearly just how fast these symptoms can appear in some people.

Having too little water is a big factor in these kinds of stories, but it's also true that some people are more susceptible to heat-related illnesses than others, for different reasons.

Yet to have a great adventure, certainly one of my goals, it's necessary to push your physical limits. As long as this is done with forethought to what sort of experience you're about to have, a trip to Camelback is safe and fun. Except when it's not. Which is the point of this adventure blog.

It may be somewhat macabre to keep returning to the subject of rescues, injuries and other serious human calamities at Camelback. But the thrills and spills help make up the mystique of this place. The potential danger is a reason to respect the mountain. As a vehicle for excitement, the risk is also a reason to go there. So I'll pushing myself right up to -- but, with luck, never surpassing -- the point that results in the arrival of the Phoenix Fire Department and local news media.

Claud the Water Guy

This picture was found on a blog post written by photographer/"footballer" Jason Johnson.

Jason, a U of A grad who's from Seattle, runs into "Claud the Water Guy" and hikes to the summit with him. Claud juices up Johnson's short and entertaining description of the hike. Especially nice is his use of dialogue. He mentions how Claud tries to hand out water to "everyone he meets" has Claud saying, "It's a dangerous hill ... These city-slickers forget how hot it is. People die here... in the summer it will get to one-sixteen and they don't even bring water!"

Johnson surmises that all regular Camelback hikers have met Claud -- I certainly have, though I've never chatted with him for as long as Johnson did and didn't know his name was Claud. He hikes Echo Canyon a lot, that's for sure; he's in the top 10 of regulars I've noticed, probably because of his outfit. He's asked me several times if I needed water.

I suppose every mountain needs a self-appointed savior of foolish and unprepared hikers. Claud takes his job of Trail Police seriously.

About a year ago, I departed from Echo Canyon Trail to explore the base of some 40-50 foot cliffs above the saddle between hump and head. The gully turned bushy and I began scampering on a sidewall, having fun, when I heard a concerned voice far behind me shouting, "HEY! HEY! THAT'S NOT THE TRAIL!"

I tried to ignore him for a moment, hoping to climb out of his sight, but he kept it up: "TURN BACK! YOU'RE GOING THE WRONG WAY!"

I looked up at Claud, who was several hundred feet back and up at curve in the trail, wearing the same hat and having the same general appearance as in this picture, but appearing less than an inch high to me from that distance. "IT'S O-KAY!" I yelled back. "I'M NOT LOST!"

Then I turned around and resumed traversing. He yelled one more time before giving up. I found a great spot to free solo in the class-four range for about 20-30 feet before coming to a section that I didn't want to do without protection. The downclimb was just tricky enough to put a smile on my face.

I passed Claud on the way down.

"Nice rock-climbing there," he said graciously.