Summer's Here

Summertime -- and the living is easy.

Unless you're from Chicago, you've never before experienced real Sonoran heat and you're crazy enough to follow a desert rat like me up Camelback.

Our friend and co-worker Greg exclaimed, "This is harder than I thought it was going to be!" about halfway up. (I mean the Echo Canyon side, of course. All hikes to the summit referenced in this blog will be from Echo unless noted.)

Funny, because he's half my age and in better shape, overall. During one of our many, mandatory stops for rest and water on the way up, I told him I still had no doubt he could kick my ass at one-on-one b-ball.

I had found the going remarkably easy and, much to his chagrin, couldn't help continuously commenting how cool it felt.

We'd started at 2 p.m. on June 4. The temp about 105. But this was a classic dry-heat day. My guess is 2-3 percent humidity. Best of all, it was breezy. With wind chill, I was feeling like it was about 80-85. Gorgeous. And I've been hiking a lot lately, so the whole way up I felt like a coiled spring. Normally, on a beautiful day like that, I wouldn't have stopped once. That day I probably would have topped out in just over a half-hour. Still not prime form, but a good summit time for me. Instead, we pushed it near the 70-minute mark. And poor, Greg -- he just flopped to the rocks when we arrived on top.

He did well for his first time, actually. He's leaving for Minnesota in another week.

I'll be here, though -- my home for the past 34 years. The Stern family crossed the border from New Mexico, on our way out from Queens, on July 4, 1977. Nearly two weeks passed as my parents searched the Valley for a decent apartment and a possible home site, and in the interim my sister and I experienced Phoenix heat like I've never experienced it before. We lived in our family's tent-trailer in the Pony Acres Trailer Park near Apache and McClintock, (which, by God, is still there -- though catering to a slightly less middle-class clientele now), without the slightest trace of air-conditioning at night. Back then, the heat-island effect wasn't as pronounced and the nights were slightly cooler. But only slightly. We spent our days sitting in the trailer park's not-quite-cool pool and felt truly comfortable only when going inside the park's clubhouse or in stores or the model homes my parents kept touring.

That was my first summer.

And here it is now, my 34th.

The mercury is expected to rise to 113 later this week, NPR told us this morning at about 8:30 a.m., when it was 92 degrees out. No more cool hikes up Camelback until September.

That's just fine with me.

Parking Problems

Camelback's in the news again, but this time not just for disaster, (though a 63-year-old hiker did die there last week.) The Arizona Republic says today that the parking situation is getting much worse.

Last July it became apparent that the mountain was getting more crowded in the summer. Things have changed since the shot I took of the parking lot in August three years ago -- now it's rare to see it this empty unless it's over 110.

I chatted with some rangers a couple of weeks ago who were directing traffic around the parking lot and back out -- no one is allowed to wait for a parking spot, they say. That began a month or two ago, although I waited in a typical line about three weeks ago; the rangers said that's cause they're not there all of the time. This time, they had signs out and didn't let anyone stop while all the spots were full. I asked if they had a limit on how many times you could go back in to check, and they said there wasn't any, but they made it more difficult by putting vehicles back onto McDonald before you could go back up Echo Canyon Drive.

I had biked up, an option the rangers appreciated. Parked the truck near the shopping center at 44th and Camelback Road.

The Arizona Republic article suggests that people could hike elsewhere. One commenter on the article states that people could simply walk around their neighborhoods, to which a smart-ass replied that he's too frightened to walk around his neighborhood because he doesn't own a gun.

Fact is, Camelback is unique. There is nothing like it. Piestewa comes close, and the parking lot is huge. But the trail is narrow and it doesn't have anywhere near the beauty of Camelback. It's like Wickenberg compared to Sedona. The trail on Camelback, often made up nothing but boulders, is way better than Piestewa. Beyond Piestewa and Camelback, no other standard mountain trail in the Phoenix area is as steep and long. Siphon Draw comes close, so does the hike to Tom's Thumb in the McD's, and Brown's Trail on Four Peaks. But who's got time for that?

Anyways, I hiked Camelback today. Tons of people. An absolute zoo.

I took three months off of running and hiking, from December to February, but have begun to get back on the mountain. Plantar fasiciitis. I think it's getting better.

I've been enjoying the spring on Camelback and have seen a few chuckwallas, including a baby. The chucks are clearly thriving despite the hordes of hikers. I shot this picture of a good-sized chuckwalla last week.

Watch Out for Bees on Hart Route

The bees on Hart Route attacked some climbers in November, something I noted in Valley Fever a few days after it happened. Yeah, I couldn't help but wonder again what I'd have done back in April if the hive had been aggravated by my free-solo climb.

All's well that ends well, of course. The climbers in the November attack weren't badly hurt, and I got a blog post out of it in which I published two of my own pictures, including one of the beehive. Sure, it's a crappy photo, but who else got that shot? No one!

On the day of the incident, as I mentioned in my NT post, I'd been climbing up on the Headwall and talked to climbers near the Monk. I put the picture I took there through a new iPhone app that mimics a "tilt shift" effect. I love how it turned out, and, to be honest, it's the real reason for this post tonight.

But, as long I'm here, why not show you a couple more photos:



Camelback Rainbow -- shot in my driver's side rear view.

Finally, here's a shot of a whole bunch of hikers on the summit. Seems to me that this fall (now winter) has been more crowded than usual, and I snapped this a few weeks ago.

Camelback Livens the Spirit

The weird thing is that it really looks like this sometimes.



The shot was "Posted by Julie ... at 2:56 AM" according to the Web site ScottsdaleDailyPhoto.com. One of the commenters notes that it looks like Mars, which I think is true. Reason No. 1,000,001 why I love Camelback: The way the pink rock of the Headwall turns into a glowing, reddish orange at sunset. No other mountain in Phoenix compares, as far as I can tell. Papago appears to have the same geologic mass of red, and it looks beautiful during some sunsets, too. I just don't recall this same effect -- though perhaps I've not as observant of the rolling lumps of conglomerate that make up Papago.

Next up we have a shot by "Bill," who writes a blog called Endurance Event Training:



The perfect shadow of a pyramid-shaped mountain captured in this picture tickled my fancy. But I also like how Bill, an accomplished athlete who rode 1,700 miles on a bike in 30 days this past summer, praises Camelback for its ability to give him a good workout on a 110-degree day.

Bill made the hike on September 10. Five days before, members of the "Galat Family" tried to slog to the top in weather that was nearly as hot. The family was on a furlough from their work in Africa as missionary doctors. It's so fascinating to see life through the eyes of people like Dr. Galat, thanks to the Internet. Especially interesting to me is to see how physical struggles in the context of a quasi-wilderness setting can be spiritually enlightening to people in a way that sitting on the couch watching the boob tube isn't. Yes, deep thought occurs during workouts in the gym -- there's a certain boredom, or rather, a lack of the constant over-stimulation of modern society, that is inherent in exercise regimens -- but combined with the natural ouevre of a mountain hike, seems to bring out a deep-seated, ancient survival mechanism in people. Especially when it's over 100 and hiking Camelback isn't something you do often. I've seen some of these religiously oriented bloggers take the same tack as Galat, translating their perceived risk of this hike into a confirmation of their particular faith. I mean, here we have a father and health care worker taking something one of his kids said about the strength of their family on the hike and he ends up quoting Corinthians and immersing himself in "truths" like "for when I am weak, then I am strong." Camelback has the power to grab hold of your soul, at least metaphorically speaking, and I think that holds true no matter what your beliefs -- or lack of belief.

Camelback Hikers Brave the Summer Heat, but Not Always Successfully

Camelback's been in the news and mentioned in blogs quite a bit in the last few days, so I thought I'd catch up.

First off, several notable mountain rescues occurred due to the heat. This enabled me to mix business and pleasure by publishing a blog post in Valley Fever about the incidents, and a follow-up making fun of a local TV reporter. (Sorry, Kevin!) The news coverage of the rescues also spurred message threads like this one. I'm hoping the 13-year-old kid whose parents took him up the mountain without enough water is okay.

Seeing these incidents and the community's response to them, as heart-breaking as it may be to see anyone hurt, gives me confidence that liberty still rules the day. For all this talk about the feminization, wimpification, or whatever you want to call it, of modern society, the freedom to roam on our local mountains -- up its steep cliffs and in all conditions -- trumps notions of perceived, relative safety. It's 105 degrees and you're 73, from much-cooler Wisconsin, and aren't packing enough water? Nobody's going to stop you at the trailhead and tell you not to do it.

The firefighter interviewed in the Channel 10 report on the rescues, Captain Tony Mure, (they spelled his name wrong in their caption), says "I don't care what kind of shape you're in -- the human body cannot tolerate this kind of heat and this kind of exertion." That's simply not true and plenty of people who work outside prove him wrong every day. (Tony's a good guy -- the authorities often take a scolding tone with the public when it comes to these things, to try and warn people away).

I've hiked Camelback dozens of times in temperatures of 110 degrees or higher and only once did I feel like I'd made a mistake -- (4 p.m. hike, 117 degrees). The trick is to sweat a lot, which results in a "wind chill" (ha!) factor of much less than the air temp. This is difficult to achieve when the sun is directly above, so most of my 110-plus hikes have NOT taken place between, say, 10 and 3. Most often, those hikes were in the evening -- after 6.

Hiking in the sun, (even outside the hours of 10-3) requires extra precautions, like packing 2 bottles of icewater instead of one and wetting my shirt before heading up. Sunscreen is mandatory, naturally. Some people wear long-sleeved shirts. Once, while hiking at about 4pm on a 110-degree day, I ran into a guy coming down in full camo gear, long pants and long-sleeved shirt, with undershirt, calf-high boots and a backpack stuffed with unknown gear. This guy has the audacity to stop me and say, "Excuse me, can I ask you a question? Are you wearing sunscreen?" I told him I was, and asked him why he was dressed up like that. He said he was training for officer candidate school.

Meanwhile, plenty of people besides me made it to the top this summer without nearly dying. My next featured post is from a blog called "Daily Nuggets." The picture is of the blogger's "cousin Rob" making it to the top; my screen capture includes their text as well.



I also like this one from "DaSmith Foursome" blog. They met for their Father's Day hike at 4:15 a.m. (that's their picture below). Whoa! That's early. You go, girls. They all made it to the top.

I failed to summit the first time I hiked Camelback, I must admit. I was 18 and unfamiliar with mountains back then, though I was in better shape than I am now. The defeat was 100 percent mental.

I'd been by myself, huffing and puffing up the steep trail for a while, thinking I was getting somewhere. After I cleared the headwall area, the summit still looked very far, far away. I went a little further, and it still looked far away. I realized the only thing holding me back from cool comfort was a decision. And I made the wrong decision -- I decided to turn back. It had been warm, but not that bad. I'm pretty sure I'd brought a water bottle, but I forget what my water situation was that day. Probably not good. Still, I have no doubt now that I could have made it.



Anyway, my search this morning for mountain rescue photos led to a cool January report by Channel 3 I hadn't seen about rescues. The anchor keeps referring to dramatic scenes of firemen climbing the Headwall and of a helicopter as similar to a Hollywood stunt. I hadn't heard about the accident, in which a climber on the Monk fell 25-30 while rappelling, fracturing both legs. Holy ouch, Batman! I took this screen-grab of the shot of a helicopter next to the Monk.

One last note today: As the oppressive heat of July wears on, much as I love it, the green hills of the "other" Camelback Mountain featured in many Internet sites this summer makes me wish for a vacation there. I found a "SummitPost" posting from 2006 recently in which somebody crowed about the "great-tasting blueberries and rasberries" they picked, as well as the "amazing views." That sounds pretty good.

Jersey Girl Gets Sweaty

The pickings have been slim lately for good Camelback-related blog posts, at least for the type I enjoy.

I'm sick to death of the typical "all about hiking at Camelback Mountain" posts, which sometimes try to describe every step of Echo Canyon or Cholla in mind-numbing, technical detail.

"The Spicy Lens," is an example of my favorite type of post -- newbies exploring the pleasure and pain of Camelback terrain. (I also love posts about kids making it to the top for the first time). Spicy Lens hiked Echo Canyon trail in February, but published this post in late June.

People like Ms. Spicy Lens write about their experience because they need to -- because they had an adventure. And, of course, adventure is what I seek, either direct or vicarious.

She writes:

This was no easy hike, there are no fences or guard rails. If you lose your footing, it could easily become your last hike.

Local uber-hikers can scoff at such a warning, but she's right. I remember a story about a guy who fell off a cliff a few years ago at Camelback after sneaking up there at night to do the wild thing with his girl. As I recall, the story was that when they were done, he got up to stretch or something and stepped off into oblivion.

Spicy also worries about snakes:

I have trouble chewing gum and walking at the same time. Let alone knowing where to place my foot and how to look for snakes at the same time.

I've seen a half-dozen rattlesnakes at Camelback over the years, yet have never heard of someone being bitten there. It's a remote possibility. Out-of-towners fret about rattlesnakes, scorpions or even tarantulas on Camelback. The biggest dangers, though, are heat stroke, falling and killer bees.

The Spicy Lens blog typically focuses on photography. She's pretty good with close-ups of food and plants.

Heat Hike

At noon on July 5, you can always get a good parking spot at Camelback Mountain. It was 98, according to my iPhone.

Ninety-eight isn't so hot for a summer hiker around here. It was like a warm, spring day, (I'm talking about a normal spring, which it wasn't this year). I've certainly hiked Camelback in far worse conditions, in terms of temp, humidity and lack of wind.

Yet the sun was strong -- the temp later topped out at 105. To be sure, it was a hot hike. The incredible June we've just had lulled me into the delusion that the summer might not include a hellacious heat wave. I knew all along it would, of course, and when the normal weather finally arrived I figured there was no use fighting it. I needed a mid-day hike to set the tone for the next few weeks.

A few short years ago, almost no one would be on the mountain at this time, but the recession is keeping a lot of people in town. More Phoenix residents than ever in the last couple of years have discovered that Camelback -- and Piestewa, South Mountain and other mountain parks -- are wonderful diversions if you can't afford San Diego, Flagstaff or elsewhere. That's meant more people in nice weather and "bad."

I sweated my butt off and was grateful for the breeze that whipped up every few minutes. My pace is always slower in the heat -- so is everyone else's. Today, maybe half the folks seemed to be suffering. I didn't do too badly, but I took two water breaks.

For some reason, I often get passed at least once when it's warm, though usually not at all during un-hot days. Why is this?

Well, as I've mentioned before, it seems like the heat brings out the more hardcore people. These are folks who, like me, enjoy the challenge of the intense Phoenix heat. Perhaps it's the higher ratio of hardcore hikers that explains why I get passed more often. Or maybe it's that I almost never stop on the way to the summit, but on hot days I'm willing to take a break or two and not push myself. (That makes sense to me, because when the air temperature is higher than your body temperature and you're working out in direct sunlight, ignoring what your body tells you can be dangerous. Heat exhaustion can come on suddenly. When I know the weather will be extreme, I take at least one water bottle packed with ice-water, with lots of ice -- enough to have a couple of pieces of ice still floating in the water when I reach the summit. I also wear a hat. Noticed a few people today without one. I don't know how they do it).

The final possibility is that I hike more during the cooler seasons and, therefore, I'm in better shape.

Whatever it is, it's just one of those things I think about as I'm hiking. I don't mean to imply I feel I'm in a race, though I'll admit to a sense of competition among other hikers. If passed, I don't put on speed and try to retake the lead. I suppose on occasion I've increased speed, slightly, when it's clear the person who passed me is a poseur who isn't able to hold the pace. Then, when the poseur stops because he's overestimated his abilities and gets pooped, I'll have a solid pass. The mental competition helps me move up the slope and measure my climbing shape against others. (There is a prize for great performances, though -- I get to hike even tougher mountains!) Most of the time, if you started after me and you pass me, you win. I never attempt to race anyone. That would be lame. And since my cruising speed is a fairly high RPM for me, I'm unlikely to redline for very long.

Going down, I never worry about these things and can be passed by some of the folks I passed on the way up. I've gotten hurt falling while running down Camelback as if I was on a ski run, and I've also seen a guy break his arm doing it. I'll come back to those stories some other time.

Back to the hike:




At the summit, I took refuge under a palo verde I've used before for just such heat breaks and sipped the icy Gatorade I had brought. A bee began buzzing around my sweat-soaked shirt, so I poured a bit of ice and water on the ground to divert its attention. A minute later, a cute little fence lizard appeared out of nowhere and acted like it had been given a gift from heaven. I lingered in the semi-shade of the palo for a bit, watching it lick the ice and sit among the cubes like he was in a Palm Springs spa.