West Clear Creek Wilderness & Sedona, Arizona
May 31-June 4, 2018
Heidi Marie Sassin
Our Engagement Story…
Gravel and dust kicked up from the dirt road as he expertly navigated the winding turns. My heart beat fast as I looked out from the passenger seat over the steep cliffs falling down from the narrow road, wide enough at times to fit only one car. Grass, dried yellow from the heat of the sun, blanketed the parched landscape, as short wiry trees held onto their brittle green needles.
After making it up Arizona’s Forest Road 618, Oliver turned onto FR-214a. Large rocks and deep crevices pock-marked the remote forest road, making it impassable. We would have to continue down the road on foot now as only elevated vehicles could make it to the trail head from here.
The mid-morning heat intensified with the sun blazing overhead. As we packed our gear for the next couple of days, I surveyed the dry, desert landscape and for the first time began to think about forest fires. The year before, at the Rocky Mountains, the skies filled with so much smoke that we couldn’t see the next peak over from us. I believed we were in the middle of a forest fire then, but the fires had been hundreds of miles away. Seeing how dry it was now, my mind raced with only one word: tinderbox.
The hot desert sun singed our arms as we spread Blue Lizard sun-screen over our bare skin. I laced up my hiking boots and sat under the rear hatch to secure a 40-lb Osprey backpack to my body. Everything in these packs would need to sustain us over the next few days. We had to weigh and package all of our food, clothes and supplies. Carrying with us small pots, camping utensils, tent, sleeping bags and mats, headlamps, cameras, and a solar panel, among other necessities. I left a plan with my sister, detailing our hike into the West Clear Creek wilderness to the Indian Maiden Waterfalls, where we would set up camp, and our expected return to civilization. There would be no cellphone service once we entered the canyon.
Walking down the road to the trail, we knew we would never have made it over this rough terrain with our rented SUV. I read every blog and watched every video about the West Clear Creek Wilderness, but none of this could prepare us for this harsh landscape.
My lips began to crack from the dry heat. I sipped the water from my backpack spout, and as the metallic liquid entered my mouth, I gagged and spit my only water onto the dry earth. We had made a critical mistake. That morning we filtered water from our hotel room. Our only water source until we got to the creek a couple of miles away was now barely drinkable.
Around noon we reached a wooden structure marking the start of the trailhead. I opened a small box filled with paper and pencils to leave our hiking plan with the ranger. The narrow canyon walls and steep, rugged terrain made any rescue from this remote canyon extremely difficult, if non-existent. Black bears, mountain lions, and wild boars roam the wilderness here. One spark would light up the entire desert forest, a wrong turn could send you sliding over a cliff. I walked down the slippery trail banging my hiking poles on the rocks, hoping to scare away any rattlesnakes before we crossed paths. We had made a plan that if either of us got bit we would leave all our gear in the canyon and hike out for help as fast as possible.
I became dehydrated within the first hour of our decent. I refused to drink the metallic water. A few times I tried to, but I would spit it out. My throat would close up, and I could not swallow it.
Several times I slipped and fell on the dirt and gravel, one time landing on the spiky green tongues of prickly pear cactus. I cried as we pulled out the dozens of sharp, needle-thin spines covering my left side. I was hot, disoriented, in pain, and I could think about nothing other than drinking clean water.
Up ahead on the left side of the trail was a small mound of rocks built into a cairn trail marker. We stopped here and quickly surveyed the area. There was only one visible trail. We looked at the GPS and the only trail went off to the right. To the left was a grove of the short desert trees. Oliver thought we should go through the trees, however I was insisting on following the trail we could see. I reasoned that this was the only trail on our GPS. That no other blog I read said anything about the trail splitting into two. And to the left there was not a visible trail. Oliver followed me down the marked trail, however several times he would mention the rocks, he monitored the GPS and told me that the trail we were on did not seem to cross the creek for several miles. Our hike to the water should have been only around 2-3 miles. By the time I realized he may have been right, his water was empty, and my disgusting water was almost empty. We did not have enough to go back. We could see the creek down the steep cliffs, but could not safely reach it. We had to make it to that water. We had nowhere else to go.
I was struggling. My feet moved forward slowly, afraid to fall again. My head was spinning from dehydration, there was little to no shade and the temperature was well over 100°F now. I leaned over, placing my forehead against the handle of my hiking pole. I could not go on. Oliver asked me if I was alright, tears welled in my eyes, and I told him that I wanted to go home. He waited patiently for me to compose myself. This was not my first time crying in harsh conditions, but I knew that I did not have enough water in me to waste on crying. And I knew that we had to keep moving. We had to get out of the sun, and we had to get water.
A few minutes after I broke down, the trail suddenly took a steep turn down towards the creek, a rocky cliff on the right side of the trail appeared, and blocked out the blazing sun, allowing for relief as the temperature instantly cooled. The crystal clear water supported an entirely different ecosystem than the desert we just escaped. Lush green trees and grasses sprung up along the banks. Colorful rocks studded the landscape. I dropped my backpack, unlaced my boots and waded into the ice cold water, barely up to my knees at this spot. I washed water over my arms and face while Oliver filtered fresh water for us to drink.
We had traveled far away from our intended location. We were miles, hours away from reaching the Maiden Falls now. We discussed our options, and we both decided going back through the desert was not going to work. Our only way to get home now was to travel upstream, and with a few more hours of daylight left, we decided to continue on.
I tied my hiking boots to my backpack, and strapped on purple Teva water sandals, knowing we would have to cross the creek several times. We moved through the riparian habitat, climbing over tree trunks, pushing branches out of our way, wading through water reaching as high as our stomachs. But moving through such uninhabited terrain proved to be quite difficult and slow-going, weighed down by our heavy backpacks. Our feet, legs and arms were scratched and battered by the sticks and brush along the creek.
The sunlight was fading, we set up our camp along the bank. There was a pre-used fire ring along a towering rock wall that extended up 30-feet behind our tent. We were not able to have an open fire due to restrictions, but thankfully we were allowed to use our camp stove. We ate almost nothing all day, and I told Oliver I was not hungry, but once our Pasta and Pesto dinner was ready, I could not get enough of the green salty noodles as darkness set over our camp.
I could not sit with my back towards the rocks. My eyes nervously drifting upwards every few seconds, waiting to see a cat’s eyes reflecting back at me from the stone. The week before a man got eaten by a mountain lion in Washington State, it was all over the news, and for the first time, on any adventure, I was truly scared. Several videos I watched about West Clear Creek featured huge 200-lb mountain lions. This remote wilderness was filled with these cats, they could be watching us right now, but we would never even know they were there.
Suddenly two eyes appeared in the dark, we quickly pointed our flashlights upwards and found a strange creature looking out over the ledge. Its large eyes and ears were set into a tiny face, its body similar to a weasel or small fox, it’s long tail was ringed liked a lemur’s. It was not afraid and climbed around the rocks every few minutes to get a better look at us. It moved quickly and effortlessly among the cliffs. We didn’t know it at the time, but these nocturnal desert creatures are rarely seen. Finally growing bored with us, the ringtail disappeared among the rocks. Seeing him made me feel a bit more safe, I figured if there was a large cat up there, this little thing would not be hanging around. We cleaned up our dinner, hung our food and shoes from trees and settled into our tent for a good night sleep.
The next morning we packed our gear and began our journey upstream. It was a beautiful warm day, perfect for spending time in the river. At first we had shallow water like the night before. But as we traveled further, the water started rising higher. When we could travel along the ground, we weaved our way among thick brush, crunched through deep leaf beds and climbed over soft stone walls. There were dozens of waterfalls we had to get around, climb over or at times cross straight through. Carefully balancing on our hiking poles and slowly stepping onto the next slippery rock until we made it across.
The sandstone walls grew higher until we were no longer able to travel on foot or wade through the water. Our original plan to hike to the Indian Maiden Falls required a bit of swimming. We brought inner tubes to transport our backpacks through the deep water. We were only expecting to travel a short distance like this but our plans changed. We blew up our tubes balancing all of our gear on top. Holding onto the sides of the tubes, we swam through the deep water pushing our way upriver.
The first crossing like this I struggled to keep my pack afloat. Once I could no longer reach the ground I became unbalanced and several times almost flipped my pack over into the water. The second crossing I changed how I balanced everything and it went much smoother for the rest of the afternoon.
My thoughts kept going to my sister. If we couldn’t find the trail, if we didn’t get out in time, how would we tell her not to call the ranger? How would she know we were safe, just not where we were supposed to be? I left a buffer of time but wasn’t sure if it would be enough now. I was worrying about this one caveat in an otherwise relaxing day in the river.
And then we saw the cairn marker at the bottom of the trail we should have taken down. Relief washed over my body. We found our way out! We would make it back before the ranger was called. We could set up camp for the night now, and explore the area.
We decided to try to make it the last few miles upriver to the Indian Maiden Falls. With our heavy packs left behind, we are now able to travel quickly. We did not have much time before the sun would set. I checked the map every twenty minutes, and could see that we were still so far away. I quickened my pace, jumping from rock to rock, crossing back and forth across the creek. My sandals griped the slippery rocks, but they had open straps, and I was wearing shorts. My legs get switched by the branches, red welts slash through my skin. Looking down I see my foot gashed open by wood debris, left behind from flash floods. I quickly stick it in the water to wash away the blood, fearful that if Oliver saw the wound, we would have to turn around.
Rusty red rock walls eroded into white sandstone cliffs, crumbling under our touch as we balanced along the ledge. The temperature was cooling. Shadows from the trees reached their arms across the creek. We traveled as fast as we could, running at times. It was already a half hour later than our turnaround time. We had to go back, or risk traveling in the dark. Sometimes the reality in the wilderness is you have to make that hard choice to never see what you came looking for.
That night we set up our camp at the foot of the trail on a large red rock ledge. We swam in the creek before we laid down in our tent to sleep. A little while later, the leaves began to crunch under something heavy. I quickly sat up. A gigantic black creature ducked out of the beam of my flashlight across the creek. I kept shining my light back and forth across the river and then saw it climbing over some rocks, before disappearing. I am not sure what the animals was, maybe it was an extremely large skunk, maybe it was a bear, whatever it was, it didn’t want to bother with us, and certainly did not like my light.
Frightened now, I laid back down, and could not fall asleep. A light appeared. Shining off the rock ledge near our tent so brightly, we thought it had to be a flashlight. The light would dim and get stronger over and over again, illuminating the rock ledge several feet around it. Then the light started to move quickly towards our tent. It moved faster than any human could walk. Terrified, I sat up and yelled out “hello, hello!”. The light zoomed by our tent and only then did we realize it was not a flashlight, but a giant firefly bug, truly an alien creature.
After our two scares we were again lying in the darkness when a few hours later footsteps crunched over the gravel. Someone was here with us. I unhooked the sheaf of my knife, and wrapped my fingers around the handle. The footsteps came closer to our tent and stopped a few feet away. It was a man, with no backpack, no water or supplies with him that we could see. He told us he was looking for a group of eight boys. In our entire time down here, we only saw two other people. We told the man we didn’t see anyone, and he was gone as soon as he appeared.
The steep canyon walls lit by the morning sun awaited us. With all our gear packed up, we climbed up the rocky trail. An empty streambed cut through the rocks leaving a steep wall for us to hike. After only a few minutes we came upon a cliff. A narrow ridge led us up a dry waterfall. The first part of this hike was not going to be easy. Our heavy packs challenged our balance as we slowly climbed out. One hundred feet up, two hundred, our elevation rapidly increasing; six hundred feet up, the trail levels out and suddenly we are back to the stack of rocks sitting by the tree. The trail marker where we should have turned. I couldn’t contemplate my mistake very long, we still had to hike another 900 feet up through the desert. I stopped in every bit of shade I could find. Willing myself to just keep walking to that next tree, just a little bit more to those bushes. The desert is a very harsh environment but here in Arizona, life holds on everywhere. Gnarly trees grow, flowers bloom on cactus, lizards skitter across the rocks.
We got back to the car before the heat of the day really set in. It felt bittersweet leaving the desert canyon. We are happy to be driving to Sedona, but there is a piece of us that will always remain wild.
As our car winds down the narrow canyon roads the remote wilderness, which we spent the last few days, stretched across the lands below. I think about how grateful I am to be able to explore so much of the world like this with the man that I love. Our life is an adventure, I am happy we are safe, and at the same time a part of me misses the wilderness already. When you are stripped away from phones, internet, news, noise-the only thing that matters out there is just staying alive. Making sure you have water, shelter, food, are the only things you focus on. Everything else, all the stress, anxiety, worries about things out of your control, it all just melts away.
The Red Rock Mountains of Sedona rise up out of the flat sands of the desert in a grand display. Sedona, a land of ire ore, left rusting when the ancient Pedregosa Sea dried up and left behind a striking red landscape.
This is the second time we have seen Sedona, and I again stare in awe at the beauty surrounding us. I wonder about this land, so beautiful, so unique, existing here, where nature carved the landscape into perfect crimson mountains.
Once we reached Sedona, Oliver asked if I wanted to climb up Cathedral Rock, one of the four places where people feel energy vortexes from the Earth. Sedona is an amazing place to hike, and has wonderful views all around.
Cathedral Rock stretched its fingers into the deep blue sky. We climbed six hundred feet to the rusted spires of red sandstone. While looking out over one of the most beautiful landscapes in the world, Oliver told me that he was so happy we were able to go on these adventures together, and that he wanted to go on many more life adventures with me, as husband and wife. He asked me if I would marry him as we gazed upon the green trees swirling into the red stone earth below, and I told him yes I wanted to be his wife and I always wanted our lives to be an adventure.
His plan was to propose to me at the Indian Maiden Falls. He carried my engagement ring through the blistering desert and into the remote wilderness of West Clear Creek, in the green dry sack always by his side. We never reached our destination but the journey brought us closer together than ever.
We came to Arizona to find a beautiful waterfall, and in the end we realized that no matter what direction life brings us in, we are able to work together. We work hard, and always look for the good in every situation. We are both in love with adventure and in love with each other, and I am so grateful to share my life with him.
A Place I Will Never Forget
Arizona 2018 Photos
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