Since the family seems to be migrating to Phoenix, we decided to have Christmas there, and of course were greeted with exceptionally low temperatures. And naturally, it snowed like crazy back here, making for some epic days on the mountain for the everyone but me. Still, it was a pleasure being with family for Christmas, sharing too much food, gifts, board games, touch football and DVD's. Also watched the Arizona Cardinals beat the Falcons in overtime.
On Friday and Saturday Merritt, Sam and I ventured into a few canyons near Phoenix, in the Superstition Mountains. (Even though I was coming down with the flu and knew this would be a bad idea.) Ladder Canyon is not very technical (one rappel) but drops into Fish Creek and is an enjoyable jaunt. At the bottom we spotted a pack of 8-10 furry critters--thought they were ringtail cats at first but after a little web-work Merritt determined they were coatis, a racoon-like animal that travels in small bands. They saw us and scampered up the canyon wall. Ladder Canyon was named after a ladder that had been left there for years and become not only an eyesore, but a potential danger to anyone using it. So following the suggestion in Todd Martin's new book Arizona: Technical Canyoneering, we did our service project by hauling it up the canyon and out to the road, but now everyone will be left to wonder how Ladder Canyon got its name, and that will become a matter of lore, in which we will be anonymous participants.
After a frost-covered night in tents we headed up Tango Canyon, with no trail and challenging route-finding. Arizona canyons are unlike its Utah cousins--they are filled with cactus and century plants and all manner of nasty, noxious thistles. (Arizona state motto: Home of pretty rocks and sharp pointy things.) We started with a very tough early-morning climb, followed by a sweet down-canyon strip and then a long 2-3 mile bushwhack up Fish Creek back to camp. Along the way I got pricked or stuck at least a thousand times, sprained an ankle and slogged through freezing cold water. It was enough to make me glad I didn't take more people on this trip. But neither Sam nor Merritt complained, and at the end of the day we all marked it as a success.
By Sunday morning and out trip home I was a coughing, sneezing, shivering, hobbling wreck feeling every year of my age. And I don't regret a minute of it. Merry Christmas!
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