Mount Wrightson

Mount Wrightson stands as the tallest peak in the Santa Rita mountains south of Tucson on the Coronado National Forest. With a number of access points, the Mount Wrightson Wilderness allows for some of the most premier birding in the Southwest. Over 250 species grace the area including a number of rare hummingbirds. More information on the birds of the area can be found at the Friends of Madera Canyon website.

Getting There

For my excursion into this wilderness, I selected the Madera Canyon Trailhead. This is arguably the most popular method for summiting Mount Wrightson and also the way the Arizona 20-20 Challenge says you should do it. From Tucson, the drive is about an hour and entirely on paved roads. Any map app is more than capable of routing you there.

There are a couple AirBnB-style villas along the Madera Canyon road that were over $300 a night, so needless to say I did not stay there. There are a number of Forest Service developed campgrounds as well, but again, I did not wish to pay. For me camping in my truck, it was sufficient to park at the trailhead and take my chances on getting a late-night knock on the window (I did not). There is also no negative signage for parking overnight at the trailhead; to me this implies it's legal.

Route

The most popular summit route is the Old Baldy Trail which rises from the Madera Canyon Trailhead to Josephine Saddle then on to Baldy Saddle and the peak. From the same trailhead, one could also take the Super Trail which adds approximately 1.5 miles each way. The Super Trail meets the Old Baldy Trail at Josephine Saddle, which could make for a nice loop. I debated taking the Super Trail on the way down, but my knees weren't feeling it. Trail gossip told me it is a fair bit more scenic than Old Baldy, albeit a bit rockier.

GPS track of Mt Wrightson via Old Baldy Trail

There are other routes from the south end of the Mount Wrightson Wilderness that I am unfamiliar with and thus will not discuss. They seemed well maintained and traveled as I met a number of individuals that had come up from that side. The Old Baldy Trail and the southern routes meet up at Baldy Saddle.

Elevation vs Time

Elevation vs Distance

If you're wondering why the elevation plots are only half the hike, ask Garmin. Buttons were pressed unwittingly and the track got split in two. In order not to clutter your reading experience, I opted to only put the uphill versions (the more important ones in my opinion - any schmuck can go downhill at a good pace). If you can't handle this deviation from the norm, just imagine the same slope, but downhill. Feel better now?

The Trip

Friday Night

Having arrived two hours before sunset, I thought I'd have more time with the light. Instead, the canyon walls blocked my nice sunset and forced me to bed earlier than normal.

Despite this, I was still pleased with myself as I had secured the closest spot to the Old Baldy TH. And the pit pooper was only a short walk away, such luxury!

View of the best parking spot for Mt Wrightson. Note the Old Baldy Trail going up the hill on the left.

Saturday Morning

At the wee hour of 7AM I arose to such a clatter; a group of ten or so older folks were gathered around the trailhead yapping. Apparently they represented some Phoenix-based hiking group since they took a group photo holding a flag that said so. Despite their 15 minute head start, I would absolutely crush them to the top (I'm not competitive I swear).

After my obligatory morning christening of Le Pit, I hoisted the pack and got on the trail at almost exactly 7:30. Belle had the great burden of carrying her own water on this one; I refuse to carry her crap on hikes more than a few miles long since I already have to carry an exorbitant amount of water in this dead-dry state of Arizona.

Dogs can comfortably carry up to 20% of their bodyweight (if trained and practiced) which for Belle is around seven pounds. Two liters of water plus her pack weighs around 5.5 pounds, perfect! The pack also has the added benefit of slowing her roll significantly. Instead of running laps out ahead of me, she trots only a few yards in front at approximately my same pace.

Only about a third of a mile up the trail was the Mount Wrightson Wilderness sign. I will never not take a photo of these classic routed-wood wilderness signs. At least this sign wasn't vandalized like many of the others in Arizona (looking at you, Sedona/Red Rock-Secret Mountain Wilderness).

Mt Wrightson Wilderness sign feat. Belle

Since the portion of the trail below Josephine Saddle exists entirely in the canyon (more specifically on it's western slope), it remained shady and cool the whole way up (and even some ways past Josephine). I don't know the exact temperature, but I'd have to guess in the mid-60s (Fahrenheit of course, cuz 'MURICA). Somewhere along the way I was passed by an older lady with two geriatric dogs and a younger guy soloing. I never saw either again, I assume they did some sort of loop. I did have the pleasure of catching up to the large old folks group taking a rest around mile 1.5; the majority of these people were now lying about and out of breath, no longer the chatterboxes they were only but a half an hour ago.

Sunrise peeking over Josephine Saddle with Wrightson looming to the left

At about an hour and fifteen into my trudge I reached Josephine Saddle (about 2.5 miles, 2500 feet of gain). A younger couple sat on a log while I quickly read over the cool plasma-cut metal trailsign. There was another sign as well about some young Boy Scouts who had been on a camping trip in the area then caught in a freak snowstorm in 1952. According to the sign, two boys (age 11 and 12) tried to reach three of their friends caught higher up on the mountain in the thick of the storm. The storm dumped 3 to 7 feet of snow (depending on elevation) and resulted in a massive manhunt for the boys. Three of them perished in the cold, while the others were rescued. A few other signs were tacked to the same post denoting other Scout Troops who came to pay their respects. Interesting and slightly depressing bit of history of this wild mountain.

The plasma-cut trail sign at Josephine Saddle

From here the trail flattened out slightly as it climbed onto the east side of the canyon toward Baldy Saddle. I could hear the large group behind me slowly gaining, so I pushed on. After reaching the top of a small finger ridge, I decided this would be a good place for a short sit break and a Clif bar since my stomach was demanding something be entered into the ledger. I was only sat for a couple minutes before the Phoenix Geriatrics caught up to me and performed their own rest stop. Time to move on.

A view of Wrighton on the way up out of the canyon

Coming around the side of the finger ridge, I could now clearly see the major switchbacks section. There are 43 switchbacks now between me and the top, conveniently in small and countable sets. I like counting them out loud as I conquer them, that way it's splitting the big goal into little goals and tickles my data-driven mind. My father does not like this method, he hates knowing exactly how many there are to go. If you look at the below photo close, Baldy Saddle sits at the bottom left of the first large rock outcrop on the right (more correctly, at the bottom left of the much smaller tooth-shaped rock at the bottom of the massive massif).

View up toward the Baldy Saddle switchbacks

Somewhere along one of the portions between sets of switchbacks was an actual flowing spring! And not one with a mysterious shack and algae filled tub like the one on Mount Lemmon. Bellows Spring was marked on the map, but I neither expected it to be flowing nor to be signed. I resolved to stop on my way down.

The sign for Bellows Spring

It was in the final set of switchbacks before the saddle that I was both passed by a mother & son duo from Canada and the sun slammed into my eyes for the first time all hike. Pausing at the saddle, the mother and son were very friendly while the bright light and heat was not so much. The saddle was wide and flat so I hung around for a bit to let the only slightly faster duo get ahead a little before surmounting the final mile up the summit block.

The final push also consists of a series of switchbacks. Two sets, the first being ten and the second being thirteen. Piddly stuff next to the previously defeated 43. Still approximately 1,000 feet elevation gain to go though. On this final push, I encountered two fellow soloists heading down, but no big groups or even couples yet. Turns out those were the only two parties on top before the Canucks and I arrived! The mother was gracious enough to take a photo of me and Belle in exchange for a photo of her and her charge, so lucky for those who don't know me - you now get to see what this ugly mug looks like!

The Mutt and The Mug on top, courtesy of Canadian niceness

Only a couple minutes passed before a third party arrived on top, this time two fellow college age kids, one girl and one guy. The dude apparently runs marathons for fun and had one scheduled the next day so Wrightson was his "warm up". The girl told me there was supposed to be a summit register on top, but after a short search it was determined the book was gone. Theories about who would have the energy and will to steal the register began to float around, but I was more distracted by trying to take in the amazing views.

Sonoita to the east

Sonoita is technically the closest town to Mt Wrightson as far as I can tell. Just another Arizona small town, not a ton going on that I could see when I drove through after the hike.

Baboquivari to the west

Well would you look at that? Another view of Baboquivari! Also featuring the Mount Hopkins observatory which is almost a drive up (it has a gate). More trail gossip I picked up, since I hadn't considered doing Hopkins on this trip. It is a 1k prominence peak though, so maybe I'll come back.

The parking lot was visible from the top as well. It's a love/hate relationship with being able to see how far you've come. Cool to see that your feet took you so far, but disheartening to know you're that far away from the end.

The wee little speck down there is the TH - so close, yet so far!

A number of other smaller groups had since arrived on top, including another group of ultramarathon runners (appeared to be a father and son and some of son's friends). The smell of their anchovies attracted Belle, who quickly made herself their best friend in exchange for a taste of the salty fishes. Much hemming and hawing was taking place in my head as I decided whether I wanted to stay any longer since the peak was becoming so crowded. Belle returning to me after her spoils was the cue to get going.

As I was packing up, an older gentleman arrived on top and we got to conversing. The spritely old guy was from Michigan, but snowbirds in Arizona. I told him my origins lie in Montana and we then figured out that I happen to know some of his extended family that lives in my hometown. Small world it is.

Continuing on my way, I passed not one, but two large groups on the final switchbacks. First was the very tired looking Phoenix hiking group, then was an equally tired looking church youth group where most of the youths looked no more than 16 years old. Reaching the high saddle again, I met another snowbird couple from Helena, Montana. Not quite my neck of the woods, but close enough to use the small world comment again. This unwitting couple is captured in my shot looking up at the summit block from the saddle.

Looking up from Baldy Saddle at the summit block

Not much exciting happened between here and Bellows Spring. A couple more small groups were passed on my way down, and my trekking poles made themselves useful. On switchbacks, I tend to plant one pole on the inside of the turn and swing around it. Makes me feel like I'm in one of those old movies where the protaganist swings themselves around a lamppost or carousel horse pole in pure bliss at some important life revelation. Or also like a pole dancer, but that's not near as whimsical.

Bellows Spring appeared eventually, and although I had plenty of water for the trip down, I knew I would likely need water for the rest of my spring break trip so I stopped to fill up. I whipped out the trusty old Katadyn Hiker Pro water filter and clambered up the slope to find a good clean pool to drop the bob in. I filtered two liters at the base of a seeping waterfall then sat for a second to enjoy the cool little oasis. Belle also enjoyed herself by finding the muddiest pool to roll around in. Nasty beast.

The seeping waterfall of Bellows Spring

Once returning to the trail to pack up my things, a mid-20s group of four paused alongside me for a break. I pointed out the spring to them since they hadn't appeared to notice the big metal sign (kids these days, no observation skills). One of them dared to take a drag directly from one of the pools, against both mine and his buddy's recommendations. May giardia humble this man.

The rest of the hike was fairly uneventful. I passed a Middle Eastern fellow wearing sweatpants, polo shirt, and cardigan who was chronically on his phone talking business. He tailed me down from Josephine Saddle for a while before I marched fast enough to outpace his voice.

The one thing with every trail hike that is out and back is that the return is always longer than the ascent. Case in point, I had no clue how many small finger ridges the trail went into the drainage of and then out of along the hike up the canyon to Josephine. How many you ask? Too many to count in my tired state, but certainly greater than five. I merely hoped that the next one would be the last one.

Right in the final quarter mile, a young couple literally ran past me on their way down. Props to them for having such knee strength and stamina after ten miles (assuming they did the peak), but I alas did not have that energy.

Coming to the parking lot, I felt very out of place. There were many families just milling about having picnics and short walks and such. They were all so clean and here I was decrepit and dirty after ten miles. At least being stinky has the advantage that no one dare bother you lest they too catch whatever diseases you may or may not be carrying.

Saturday Afternoon

The drive out was peaceful since it was only about 2:30 when I finished. I was in no necessary rush to reach my next destination in the Huachuca Mountains, specifically Miller Peak and Carr Peak. I stopped in Sonoita at the Copper Brothel Brewery where I had an OK amber ale and a mediocre beef burrito. On my way out of town, I passed by a very bespoke looking meadery. As I was whipping by I remembered I had free will and could go see whatever I wanted so I pulled a U-turn and went back. I wish I could have tried more of their meads, but I needed to get back on the road. I did sample a mead that they had aged in mesquite whiskey barrels from Del Bac, a local AZ distillery, that I ended up purchasing a very premium-priced bottle of. The meadery is called The Meading Room and I can only hope I pass through the area again with more time to spare.

Just outside of Sierra Vista I figured an ice cream stop was in order for a job well done during the day. The shop I graced my ripe presence with was Julie and Sammy's Ice Cream Parlor. They had a cookie monster flavor that was pretty good; I had to finish it while at the wheel since light was dwindling and I still had a significant amount of dirt road to cruise.

My end goal was to reach Reef Townsite Trailhead and knock out both Carr and Miller in one 12-mile loop the next day. My plans were foiled by the Forest Service who had closed the road for an annual snow closure four miles before the trailhead (of which would end within the next week, poor timing). Not a lick of snow existed on the entire range. Thanks Forest Service. It also didn't help I was stuck behind a clearly offroad capable truck going 20 mph on the veritable highway that was the dirt Forest Road. Waste of time. Turning the 2WD Beast around at the gate, I cruised back down and was able to find a sufficiently off-the-road pullout to park and sleep for the night. This is where I noticed a massive blimp tethered on the ground down in the valley near town.

The CBP TARS blimp - not your friendly neighborhood Goodyear blimp!

This blimp is in fact a Customs and Border Protection "Tethered Aerostat Radar System" blimp used to monitor the southern border. It looks for low flying planes and suspicious vehicles to help CBP combat human trafficking and smuggling. Pretty neat to see that lighter-than-air aircraft are still being used for operations like this; I myself am most famililar with their use in WWI for similar purposes (and also their appearance in the video game Battlefield 1).

This was one of the few evenings where I stayed up a bit past sunset (braving the dark like a big boy). I wanted to see the stars on a night like this, and man were they out in force.

The stars above the Huachuca range feat. the Milky Way

Having been sufficiently freaked out by a large-sounding rustling in the bushes near the truck, I retired to the bed without a solid plan for the next day since I had been cheated out of my original plan. I guess I'll have to come back after all. To part ways for now, I invite you to look at this photo of Belle sufficiently wet and muddy from Bellows Spring:

No matter how clean you get me, I will always become dirtier than before.