Mt. Baldy

One of my goals for vacation was to go on a difficult hike. The tallest peak near my parent's house is Mt. Baldy. The summit is just above the treeline, so when there is snow the mountain looks as though it's summit is one large bald spot. I have been totally pumped about hiking this mountain. I'm in better shape than I've ever been in (thanks to The Firm) and I knew this would be an opportunity that would not arise again for quite some time.

I called my dad the week before I came to find out if I needed to bring hiking boots for the Baldy hike. He gave me some very disappointing news: the trail head was not accessible because the road was barricaded so the forest service could repair a bridge. I was a little disappointed, but I felt better knowing that was one less rather large item to stuff into my suitcase, so I packed my country walker tennis shoes for some smaller, lighter hikes.

When we arrived in the mountains we called the forest service just in case the road had been opened. Turns out it wasn't opened all the way to the trail head, but there was an alternate trail that met up with the Baldy trail that we could take. The ranger said it would only add about a half mile onto the 5 1/2 miles to the summit. Okay, no big deal, let's do it! The ranger also had a couple other words of caution: the trail had not been cleared of debris and bears had just come out of hibernation, but have fun!

We got to the alternate trail head at about 8 am, thinking we'd probably summit around noon, eat our lunches, and head back down. Armed with six powerbars, a double decker sandwich to share, two giant apples and four liters of water we set out on our adventure. The path was beautiful. I'd say for at least half of the hike it followed along side the Little Colorado river. It was very difficult to pass up the perfect fishing spots, but we mentally noted them and continued on to the summit. The weather was perfect and there were no other hikers whatsoever. I did notice a strange spot on the mountain that I thought was smoke, but dad said it was probably just a bunch of trees without leaves and on we went.

About a third of the way on our hike we started to notice why there were no hikers. I'm sure the blocked road contributed to the lack of visitors, but I'm convinced now that the real reason there was no one else was because of the fallen trees blocking the trail. The first couple were no big deal. Eventually the fallen trees began to be closer together and larger. Sometimes we could climb over, sometimes under, and then other times we would just hike around them.

At about 11:00 we came to a spot in the woods where there were so many fallen trees we lost the trail for a bit, which is saying a lot because this was otherwise a very well marked trail. Soon we figured out that this section of the forest was what appeared to be a cloud from so far away. What is happening in this forest is due to a bark beetle that is killing the trees. Some think global warming has contributed to this problem, but here is the simple explanation my dad gave me: There is less rain, which means less water for the trees. This causes the sap to dry out. Normally this sap would trap the beetles and keep them from doing damage. Not so in this section of the forest. What was really sad was when one large tree would die and it would take down a couple of healthy trees with it.

So, anyway, we were exhausted from climbing over logs at that point, so we ate our lunch and continued further up the mountain. Finally we made it to the saddle and I was getting really excited about reaching the top. We continued down the path and came to a camping spot with a fire ring. This is when things got even more frustrating. We lost the path. Between fallen trees, decaying branches, and mounds of snow there was no path to be found. Dad was a little tired at that point and simply said, "You know, many people hike Everest and get withing 200 feet of the summit and turn back." What!!! So! We're going to the summit, Dad! We attempted wandering in a specific direction for about 10 minutes and finally my senses kicked in. If we kept going, we would more than likely get lost, Piper would freak out and so would Grandma, and who knows what else would happen. We turned back, found the path and started the depressing decent down the mountain...defeated.

To keep my mind off the fact that I didn't summit, I decided we should count just how many fallen trees were blocking the path. I believe altogether there were 148, which means if you count going up and down the mountain, we had to climb, duck, or hike around almost 300 trees! If I had known I wasn't going to reach the summit, I would have taken the branch of the trail towards the beginning that went to an old cabin. There's a destination I could reach and feel some sort of accomplishment and closure.

The hike back was horribly long and we're pretty sure the extension onto the trail was more like a mile or a mile and a half instead of half a mile. I spent the next day in a deep, summit-less depression, and no, I am still not over it!

On a side note: We had a little get together after we came back to the valley. One of my parent's friends said she's hiked to the summit of Baldy and that it's really disappointing when you get to it. You just kind of come out of the woods and go, this is it? This is what I hiked all this way for? I felt a little more light-hearted after that, but if I have the chance to do it again, I will conquer!