JTS Park, Devil Canyon - Gila National Forest

 Devil Canyon

Where my forward progress ended.

JTS Park

 Forest Road 49A

I was a little bit disappointed last year after my hike to the San Francisco River that I didn't get to explore further into The Box. The lengthy approach hike, which also gains and then loses about 500 feet of elevation, on Forest Trail 762  left me not enough time for both fishing and continuing deeper into The Box  without the prospect of walking  at least part of my return hike in the dark.  I choice fishing, and if I had caught even a single trout would not have regretted my decision. An earlier start would have helped especially when I ended up being delayed by not finding the turn-off ( twice) and then not driving far enough to find the Higgins Flat Road. Alas.  By the time I got back to my cabin, I knew a couple of things. First, I hated Trail 762. Second, I would find another way to get down to the box.  I quickly thought about going down Devil Canyon, whose confluence with the river is right at the western entrance to The Box.  Soon after we found a Youtube video made back in the early 2000's of a couple guys looking to be about my age or older doing just that thing. So now I made my own plan. I would drive FR 49 ( Torriette Lakes Road) to Forest Road 49 A which I would take until it first crosses the upper reaches of Devil Canyon and the I would hike down the canyon itself to the river.

On the second Tuesday in June, I was off. I got an earlier, but not early enough start. FR 49 was great, if a bit narrow in places. Problems began when I reached the definitely inauspicious intersection with FR 49A ( JTS Park Road). I'm glad I didn't just turn down it willy-nilly and hope for the best. Instead, I got out for a little look-see and I didn't like what I saw at all.  The initial quarter mile or so was a steep descent on a mix of bedrock and loose rocks ( some football-sized and larger). I made up my mind fairly quickly that I was not in the mood for that kind of driving that day and drove a short ways further on FR 49 and parked at a convenient pull out. I got everything in order, called my wife to notify her where my truck would be parked and that I would be walking FR 49A now, and then headed down the hillside. I got to the road more less at the base of the hill I had declined to drive down, it definitely didn't look any better from the bottom, so I turned and continued on happy with my decision. Sure, there were places further on where the road improved, that would give me a moment of regret, which would soon be dissipated at the next rocky gouge in the roadway.

 The forest was hideously dry all around, but the walk was jaunty enough at least until arriving at JTS Park, a mostly open area with large ponderosas scattered about an old corral and a dry (of course) livestock tank. 

Now the trail did a backwards "S" curve as it ascended and then descended a steep little hill. At the top there was a bit of confusion, as the road I wanted turned to the right, while a spur road, that seemed to be the more obvious route went straight ahead. I did walk down the spur road briefly until I thought better of it. The descent off the hill was quite steep, and I briefly thought about how it would feel trudging back upwards on the return trip. At the bottom the road ran right along a very mellow stretch of Devil Canyon. Where the road veered to the right to leave the canyon and climb another hill, I headed left to follow the stream course. It was going pretty well for awhile, and I felt pretty good about the whole enterprise.  It was the typical rocky dry creek that you can see all over the Gila. I had to climb down a couple of small falls that were very manageable. But then the canyon got very narrow and crumbly looking cliffs and towers rose up on either side, and I came to an undercut pour-off which was not manageable at all.

 I could see larger box elders and other deciduous greenery below that made believe I was just above Devil Spring.  I backtracked and I climbed up to the top of the dividing ridge with the help of an animal trail to see if the branch of the canyon immediately to the west would be more easily negotiated. Here was the first major flaw in my research that I didn't know at the time: I thought I had been in a branch of Devil Canyon and that the canyon I had climbed the ridge to have a look at was really the main stem. I only learned  when I got back to the cabin that I had things exactly opposite of what they were. If I had known I probably would not even have tried to get down to the branch canyon. But I didn't  and I did, try, that is. My first attempt, had me inching down the very steep incline on the other side where no animal would even try. I came to my senses only a few feet down and very carefully and slowly turned around and got back up to the top of the ridge. Pretty stupid to have even tried that route when I think back on it.

 Now I climbed up the ridge a bit higher and soon afterward I did find a way following some obvious animal paths this time. Once again, I felt happy that I would be able to continue down the canyon all the way to river.  I climbed down a dry cascade and then another and then. . . another undercut pour-off with no safe way to get around or down. I was done. I started heading  upstream and soon I came to yet another undercut pour-off, that of course I couldn't climb up. 

I exited on the east side with a very laborious climb (on all fours much of the time) up the very, very steep (but grassy) canyon side. So steep in fact that it was easy to begin slipping back down involuntarily, unless I took the precaution to take my several rest breaks on the uphill side of the few pines that had taken hold on that precarious perch. Finally, after literally clawing my way to a point on the hillside where I finally overcame the grip that gravity held me in for the previous 15 minutes or so I stood up  and walked ( at first in opposite direction of my ultimate desire, but no mind) upright, like a human, to the ridge top. Now I turned around and began hiking out toward the road. I briefly thought that when  I got there I would take the road to its bitter and then walk down the mesa which would very gradually take to me to the lower end of Devil Canyon and to the river. But there was no time for that now. It was hot and I was hot. All that was left to do was find the road and go back.   I did get to the road, somewhere between Devil Tank and where I originally had left it to hike in the canyon. I ate lunch a little while later at the shady top of a hill that I reached via a short walk on a side road to FR 49A. Squirrels and ravens were interested.

 

Horse Mountain Wilderness Study Area - Nance Canyon Saddle

The idea, which had been with me ever since we acquired the property in Teepee Ranch, was to climb to Horse Peak leaving directly from the cabin. It's really not a good idea. I knew all along. It was farther than a direct route from the west side. It would require side-hilling or climbing over three intervening peaks which would also take considerable concentration to stay on a reasonable route that doesn't lose significant elevation. There were more problems that I will address shortly.

 I got out reasonably early on the first day of June, hiking upstream along the canyon that runs through our property onto BLM land. Just past the old wire corral, where the ridge on my left is at its least imposing, and consequently easiest for climbing, I crossed over to the canyon next door. It was still dark and cool down there, as I crunched through the pine cones and followed the good trail. As the canyon curved to my right I saw a lone cow elk and then, on the ground a couple of piles of fairly fresh bear scat. I know that bears are on Horse Mountain, but I have yet to see one, and frankly I wasn't really in the mood for a sighting this morning. Getting out of the canyon is a lung-buster, but I was patient and took it slow, not wanting burn myself out so early in the hike. I emerged into the bright and warm sunlight and began using a wildlife trail I had used before to take me up to the parched landscape of the plateau in the vicinity of Monolith Rock (which I've written about before in this blog).  After drinking my first water of the day on a little hilltop I decided to traverse,  I walked onto another great wildlife trail that was just the ticket for the route I had planned. When it ran into a really rough ravine, I decided to to just head straight up on the side I was on, skirting some huge rock formations that from certain angles looked like a mother and child.

  

I was counting steps uphill, then counting out my rests, something I've been doing for several years now to insure I don't exhaust myself on these really, really steep hillsides. It's a bit tedious, but it works.  I finally arrived at very nice little saddle with views down a canyon running to the east and up to the higher ridge that also runs out to the east.

Leaving upwards from the saddle I spied a hole, or window in a large rock formation above me. I decided I  had to have a closer look. Zig-zagging my up there (with the obligatory rests again), I accidentally roused first one enormous bull elk and then a second just as large. I felt bad for disturbing them while they enjoyed the peace that comes with being in the high country of Horse Mountain.

 The hole in the rock was not huge, but it was a fun first highlight of the trip. Getting to it got me part way up one of those intervening peaks, and I began side-hilling  on a pretty good wildlife trail that headed toward the second peak. I was enjoying the relatively easy walking in the shade, but eventually I had to carefully pick my way down through the boulders and trees to a second saddle This one was much larger than the first and from the few bits of trash (a can, a metal fork,  a hand-warmer packet ) I saw, gets used as a campsite sometimes. I was really happy to be there. 

The views to the south extended down the canyon to the Plains of  San Agustin and beyond to Pelona Mountain. This was the same canyon I've looked up longingly at while driving on NM 12, catching brief glimpses of the couple of large hoodoos (rock towers) to be seen at its top. Now I was there and the towers were close at hand.

Over to the southwest was Horse Peak, perhaps a mile away and already becoming my erstwhile destination. 

There was no fortuitous wildlife trail,  or even a reasonable bushwhack to be done on the sun-baked south side of the intervening peak directly to the west. The entire hillside, the entire peak, was just boulders.  Where there weren't boulders, a few cliffs jutted out, below which gravel slides ran down the mountain. I had the idea of just going over the top and I went at it too, climbing upwards with a few pines for company.  It was slow and hot and not all easy, and when I looked at my time I realized I was not making it to Horse Peak today. I came back down to the saddle. I briefly thought of going round on the forested north side of this nameless peak, but realized  when I checked my On-X app that it would  be a very long way around to get back on track toward Horse Peak. Today's journey had reached its end. It was time to return. At first I was just retracing the route that had brought me there, but I decided to  descend to Log Canyon via a branch canyon I had not been in before. I was tired, but happy, as I walked the last miles in the canyon, now as familiar as an old friend.

Rim Spring (Forest Roads 4010L and 4010K) - Gila (Apache) National Forest

Old wooden trough at Rim Spring

Concrete block and rusty pipe at the spring

Late May and early June are a dreary time in the forests of western and southwestern New Mexico.  The parched, pale tufts of grass on the plains and between the trees seem without hope. The pines, both the standing dead and the living continue to dry out day by day until it seems that even massive ponderosas and Douglas-firs could be lit with a single cardboard match. The graying, bare downfall, which is everywhere, begs to carry flames acre after acre. If there aren't major fires happening already, dread permeates  every trip into the outdoors  because it appears as if they are all but inevitable. Winds blow continuously on overkill still trying to evaporate every molecule ( long gone, of course) of moisture left over from winter and early spring. The sound is sickening especially if there are already fires burning as we know they are fanning the flames to maximum potential. In the desert temperatures begin to hit 100 and in the mountains they climb upward as well sometimes reaching close to 90 even at 8000 feet.

Still we get out, because it is still our place. We did it last year and the years before, and we will do it in the years to come. It doesn't make sense, just like it has never made sense to me ( a public school employee) that we let kids out of school for their summer "vacation" at this most dreadful time of year, when the best course of action is to stay enveloped in climate controlled environments for as much time as possible.

We did the drive out to Rim Spring. We hiked, mostly in shade, and then picnicked. The spring was dry, of course, but it looks like it could seep a little at the end of winter or perhaps in fall after good summer rains. It's odd to look at a map of the northern Gila and see so many springs. It gives me a sense of excitement, false, I know, because many, probably most are just like this one.

 I continued to walk to the very end of road to take in views afforded by being at the very edge of the mesa, to the southeast, south and west of Bull Camp, Gallo and Gallita canyons and the mountains and mesas that surround them.

Horse Mountain Wilderness Study Area - alternate branches of Horse Mountain Gorge

 

Pillar along the old road

So I ventured out more than a month ago (Easter Sunday, 4/5/26) to have a look at the upper end of a branch of the gorge I explored back in the Fall and also have a look at a third canyon just to south.  I started at the Log Canyon trailhead this time where  I was greeted by an elk carcass laying right across the trail just beyond the gate. Weird, but I won't go into detail here all the reasons that made it so in my mind. Once at the drinker at the top of Log Canyon, I angled south (picking up the road from Nance Canyon  after a brief bit of cross country through the piñons) heading toward the huge tower of rock I call the Monolith Rock ( locals may call it something else and if I ever find out what I'll change this).

Monolith Rock

 From there I headed steeply down the canyon on its east side, snapping photos of the formations on both sides of the canyon as I went.

Eventually  the canyon fed into a gorgeous little park-like area with tall skinny pines and extensive meadows. 

I went up over a low ridge and the proceeded downstream again until I was at the top of the dry falls formed by several large boulders. Below here is where I had been stopped back in October, but from above it looks like there is a passageway through, if you are willing to trust the stability of these huge rocks by walking and scrambling under and through. Luckily, I had already been to the area downstream, so there was no need to risk it today.

Above the dry falls

I backtracked, climbed through a rocky maze on the hillside and then walked over to the shade of a large douglas-fir where I sat down to have my lunch. After accidentally marinating myself with sardine juice (and finishing my food) I was up and at it, climbing up a second rocky ridge and then descending (somewhat treacherously) through rough formations down to another deep valley. 

Rough hill side I came down.

Undulating, jutting layers of craggy volcanic rock formed a wild wall over a hundred feet high on my left. Massive towers  emerged from the top of the slope on my right. At the bottom of the wall were large alcoves beyond a thick hedge of newly green squaw bush. Another alcove appeared about half-way up as I walked further down.  I knew I was approaching the private property boundary, so I began trek out. I had a good plan for returning to the landmark Monolith Rock, which was made even better by discovering an old road  that took me right to it.  Only light winds were blowing most of the day, and it never really got hot even with the sunny skies. A great spring outing.

Monolith Rock from the old road