I spent the rest of the afternoon working at the Starbucks on Broadway and Campbell. Ironically the conference Skype call that had prompted my haste never materialized. Every couple minutes I kept being distracted by how lucky I'd been. When I went out and started the car in the late afternoon, it still surprised me that I could start it up and drive it away, as if nothing had happened.
The next day---Saturday---I had planned to finally do some snowshoeing. As far south as Tucson is, there is actually a ski area atop nearby Mount Lemmon. The freak storm from the week before had actually left snow on Tucson itself, forcing the postponement of a golf tournament. I wanted to get up to the top of the mountain while the going was still good. Even if the snow wasn't top notch, at least I could say that I snowshoed in southern Arizona.
On the map, the road up the mountain was a series of switchbacks going up over six thousand feet. The idea of taking my car up the road gave me jitters. But it occurred to me that it would be good way of testing it out. If anything was wrong with it, it would probably show up on the trip up the mountain.
I set off in mid morning. From tDown in Tucson it was sunny and warm, a beautiful clear spring day. Right as the road came to the foot of the mountain there was a sign saying it was 23 miles to the ski area. For the first couple miles going up hill, the road was lined with more saguaros than one could imagine seeing in one eyeshot. Then at almost exactly 4000 feet, they abruptly stopped and gave way to less picturesque desert scrub.
At around 6500 feet, I began to see signs of snow on the north sides of the slopes. After a couple more miles, there was plenty of snow alongside the road, but it wasn't the very deep, and with many bare spots.
The car did perfectly the whole way, cruising uphill while swishing back and forth and the constant curves. There wasn't the slightest indication of the incident from the day before.
After forty minutes I reached the parking lot of the small ski area. It was not a big area---just a few steep runs. But they were covered with snow view down the mountain the valley below was spectacular.
It was still warm in the parking lot, but I geared up with a couple layers, just in case. I carried my snowshoes across the snowless parking lot to the lodge at the base of the first run. On the way I saw a sign saying "No walking on the slopes." From the look of things, I did not get the impression that snowshoers were welcome.
I asked the guy at the ski patrol hut about good snowshoeing. He suggested I go to a nearby place called Bear Wallow, a couple miles back down the road. But his directions left me confused.
I tried to follow them, but turn a wrong turn into the community of Summerhaven. On the outskirts of town I found a trailhead that led up the mountainside in an area of remnants from a forest fire in recent years.
The day was beautiful, but the landscape was less than inspiring. Moreover the trail was less than idea for snowshoeing. In summer it was obviously a narrow easy hiking trail up the mountain with many switchbacks and a gradual slope.
The recent snowfall, partially melted, had covered the narrow trail making traverses rather difficult. It was the kind of snow that was perfect for snowball fights but on the edge of becoming too mushy for snowshoeing. In many places, each time I planted my downhill foot it began to slide down the hill. The MSRs have great traction but there is not much you can do when the snow itself begins to give way below you.
Moreover the barren winter trail was lined with thorny bushes that grabbed and held my jacket repeatedly. I fight like I was really fighting the conditions to get a good hike in. About half hour in, I decided I no longer wanted to fight the sliding snow on the traverses. The landscape was simply not appealing enough. I'd gotten a good enough workout for the day. It was definitely enough to say that I'd legitimately snowshoed outside of Tucson.
On the way down the mountain I passed the sign for Bear Wallow that the ranger mentioned and saw that it was a flat forest road winding away from the road---the perfect kind of snowshoe trail. But I was already spent by then.
I thought perhaps I'd gotten the last good snowshoe weekend in for the season. But the weather forecast is calling for another storm this weekend. The sky to the west is already menacing. I might have to make another trip up the mountain after all. The car seems ready.
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