Day 30, Four Peaks Wilderness to Roosevelt Lake Marina

I watched the sun rise above a distant range of mountains as I descended the narrow, rocky trail. When there was more daylight to see the terrain around me, I looked to see if there were any other spots where we might have been able to camp last night. We had been crammed tightly among manzanitas, and I was curious if there were any better spots down the trail.

As it turned out, the site The Captain and Snugbug found was the only suitable place to camp for the next couple of miles.

The only spot I found where camping seemed possible was where I stopped for breakfast at 7 o'clock, and it wasn’t ideal. It was a wide and empty space in a dip along a ridge. Besides a little more room than what we had last night, this place offered a gorgeous, close view of three of the Four Peaks.

The trail remained rugged for most of the 6.2 miles I hiked until I exited Four Peaks Wilderness. Along the way, I slipped and fell a couple of times on the loose rocks that littered the footpath. I also stepped into a hole that made me fall a third time. It was the only fall I couldn’t blame on my worn-down shoes.

A fourth fall came a short time later, and this one was a real kicker. I fell onto my right trekking pole, and when I landed, I heard it snap. I knew I didn't break a bone, but I feared I had destroyed the pole.

Fortunately, it broke in the best spot possible, near the collar between two sections. I was able to shorten the length of the broken section and extend another, keeping the pole's length what I needed it to be.

As I neared the end of the trail section through the wilderness, Roosevelt Lake came into view. It looked refreshingly cool, compared to where I was exposed to the sun with no place to find shade.

I was now dropping into a Sonoran Desert zone where there were no trees, only cacti and grasses.

Two spots were identified in the FarOut app for possible water sources, one on each side of the wilderness boundary. The descriptions for both said they were often dry, and as expected, that turned out to be true today.

The second of these spots was Buckhorn Creek. I had to stop here for a minute or two to figure out where the trail went. Even though I was now outside the wilderness, there still weren’t many trail signs, and there didn’t seem to be a clear footpath.

The correct route was a short but steep climb. This was unexpected, which probably contributed to my confusion. I assumed I would be walking almost entirely downhill today.

By 11:30 a.m., I was on a flatter part of the trail. The terrain was transitioning from rocky and mountainous to gravel and rolling hills. It was also becoming much more like a desert, with agave and cactus dotting the hillsides.

The sun was now beating down intensely. The flatter terrain with low vegetation provided no possibility of shade.

When I arrived at Mills Ridge Trailhead at 12:15 p.m., I found a large cache of water. The water jugs were refilled regularly by two trail angels named Scott and Becky, and this cache was a lifesaver. There were no water sources before this spot, and there would be none ahead until I reached Roosevelt Lake.

I hadn’t used my umbrella so far today, but now it was necessary. It was the only way to get any shade while I ate my lunch. Even with the umbrella, the temperature was brutally hot.

As I began packing to leave, I saw The Captain and Snugbug descending the trail toward the trailhead, so I waited for them. We said we hoped to meet again on the trail, but that seemed unlikely, based on the schedules we were trying to keep.

I continued to use the umbrella when I began walking again. Even with it, the afternoon temperature was extremely warm.

The heat and the trail’s many ups and downs over rolling hills made this a strenuous section.

Gradually, I began to see more and more of Roosevelt Lake. Formed by a dam across the Salt River, it is the largest body of water located entirely within the state. Lake Mead and Lake Powell are larger, but they lie across the borders of other states.

Much like yesterday, two fighter jets blasted past me at a low altitude as I made the descent toward the lake.

I also saw a helicopter make repeated trips down to the Salt River, though I couldn’t yet see the river. Because I couldn’t follow the helicopter's flight all the way down, I couldn’t tell why it was making so many trips. The pilot may have been training, perhaps for collecting water during a wildfire. I didn’t see smoke in any direction, so there probably wasn't an active fire at the moment.

The dam and the river came into view at 4 p.m. I was still a long way from crossing the bridge, however. The trail would continue another two miles and drop nearly 1,300 feet before I would get there.

A light, wispy layer of clouds had started to form around 3:30 p.m., and by 4:30 p.m., they had thickened enough to bring down the temperature. And by now, the sun was lower. The temperature had dropped enough that I could put away my umbrella.

The footing on the final descent to the highway and bridge was treacherous, even worse than before. I didn’t fall this time, and that was a surprise.

When I got to the bridge, I knew the marina store would close in a little more than an hour. The restaurant would close an hour after that. I could continue on the trail for another three miles to the marina, or I could walk on the road and save a mile. 

With fading daylight, worn-out shoes, and a hamburger calling my name from the marina restaurant, it was a no-brainer to take the faster, shorter route. That way, I knew I could get there on time.

The burger, fries, and a beer were satisfying, but there was no better feeling than putting on my new shoes.

When I finished my meal, I used the restroom to wash off as much desert dust as possible. Then I walked across the parking lot to an area that was set aside as a campsite for AZT thru-hikers. There were a couple of picnic tables and a porta-potty there, plus a small shed where there was a hiker box.

Because the site was next to a parking lot with lights and near the highway, this didn’t seem like a good spot for cowboy camping. I set up my tent.

A semi truck was in the parking lot with its engine running. Thankfully, it drove away at 8:20 p.m., making the evening much quieter.

I set my alarm to make sure I was awake and fully packed by the time the store opened at 7 a.m. Even though I had already picked up my shoes and I didn’t need to resupply there, I wanted to buy some breakfast items as soon as the store opened. The restaurant wouldn’t be open for breakfast.

I won’t need to resupply until I reach the town of Superior, which is less than 45 miles from here. The high temperatures won’t go away for another four days, so the whole sun-exposed distance to Superior will be a scorcher.

I’m grateful to at least have one thing in my favor when I leave tomorrow. I’ll be wearing a new pair of shoes. I shouldn’t be slipping and falling like I did today.