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| Looking up the canyon from the trail-head |
The first time I every climbed a mountain beyond my comfort level I learned the real answer to the question “why do you climb the mountain?” The effort itself pumps so much adrenaline that you almost feel invincible. I wholeheartedly adhere to the position that the journey is what it’s all about, but I must admit to wavering a bit on that point when I get to the top of the mountain, or in this case reach the palms, and take in the magnificent view from lofty heights.
It was a clear February day when I started up Palm Canyon from the trail-head. It was almost 10:30 but within a couple hundred yards I was in the shade of the eastern wall of the canyon. I would not be in sunshine until I exited the canyon at almost 2:00 pm. My original destination was the spot, which I read was about half a mile, where one got the best view of the palms that grow another 400 feet up the side of the canyon.
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| West wall of the canyon about 10:30 am |
The first half mile was beautiful. It is well worth the effort if you go no further. I took the majority of my 110 pictures in this half mile stretch of trail. To my left (west) the sun was just beginning to strike the steep canyon wall. Straight ahead was Signal Peak out of which Palm Canyon was carved by nature. The east side of the canyon never did see the sun in the almost four hours I was there. Sitting here writing this blog, 5.6 miles from the trail-head, I can look out our big back window at the distant canyon and see that at 4:19 pm the east wall is still in shadows. I took a great many pictures of Saguaro cactus defying gravity and growing on the side of the mountain. If I read the informational exhibit at the start of the trail-head correctly, I was walking up the open side of a volcano that built this low mountain and eroded to create the safe haven for the palms I was going to see.
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| A Saguaro high on a cliff. |
As promised, a little over half way up the canyon at an elevation of about 2,240 feet, 200 feet above the trailhead a half mile south, I found a simple brown sign with the word “Palms” and an arrow engraved and painted white. There they were another quarter of a mile away and almost 400 feet above us. I had reached my goal and I stood in awe of these ancient survivors seemingly out of my reach.
Coming up the trail I had waved at a young man who had climbed a short distance up the east flank of the canyon. He approached as I was admiring the view and taking pictures. We picked up a conversation and soon he was talking about actually climbing up to the trees. As he talked I kept looking at the magnificent specimen high above us. I had read that it was possible to get there, but I had never considered such a climb . . . . . . . until now. “Why do you climb the mountain?” I looked down the canyon. I could actually see the cluster of white dots miles away, one of which had to be home. I looked back up the crevice in the side of the canyon. Pamela wouldn’t be surprised if I did this, and so I found myself a short distance behind the young man.
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| The crevice from the canyon floor. |
We couldn’t see the palms as we began to climb. He disappeared up the left side of the crevice. I decided to poke around the right side until I heard from him. I couldn’t see any reason to follow him if that wasn’t the right way. Climbing around the right side of the crevice I saw a narrow passage. A short while later the young man showed up. The left side ran up to a scree field after which there was a steep rock wall. He headed up the right side ahead of me and disappeared into a narrow passageway.
As I approached the spot where he had disappeared I began to wonder if I should go any further. I had already climbed areas where I had to ascend by leverage, use of my staff, and crawling on my hands and knees. Some of that was because of the terrain and some of it was my arthritis, but it didn’t matter. I could neither hear nor see the young man who had preceded me. I looked at the imposing stone wall and sadly decided that I should turn back.
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| The crevice as I started to climb. |
I spent some time resting at the bottom of the crevice. The young man appeared. He told me that, if I could get past the narrow hole through which I had seen him disappear, I would be able to make it to the palms. They were just over a hundred yards above the hole and you could see them as soon as your emerged on the upside of the hole. He headed on down. I looked back up the crevice. From the young man’s description and what I could see from this vantage point, I had climbed over 90% the way. The first time wasn’t easy. Should I do it again? Obviously you know the answer. Back I went.
Arriving at the hole it seemed straight up. Actually, it was but there were some outcroppings of rock. I would scoot my butt up on one of the narrow ledges, find a foothold below me and a place to plant my staff. With that I would raise myself until I was standing on the ledge. Finding the next ledge, I went through the same process. I had no fear of falling and my hips were holding out, so I pushed on. I only had to repeat the process three times. Other climbers could put one foot against the side of the hole and raise themselves up, but my hips wouldn’t let me do anything so simple. Getting to the top had the first of two great rewards for my effort. Looking off to my left I could see a palm tree through a very narrow passage. Talk about being excited.
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| The young man ahead of me just before I lost sight of him. |
I had already been warned that the narrows was indeed very narrow and that I should take the radio off my hip. I loaded everything into my backpack and started making my way through the narrows. It was steep going but the narrowness was what made it difficult. There were a couple of times that I needed to turn my hips sideways but my backpack would get me wedged in if I tried to likewise turn my shoulders. One spot took me several attempts to pass through. Then at last, my head emerged over a ledge of rock, a Desert Honeysuckle bush with its brick red flowers right in front of me. And then there they were - the palms. I had made it.
Moving around the palms growing among the bolder-strewn crevice wasn’t easy, but I didn’t notice. There are some forty adult trees up there. Many of them had charred trunks as a result of a fire almost sixty years ago. Some fool had carved their initials into one of the trees, but I wasn’t going to give into my anger at such thoughtlessness and stupidity. Just touching one of these giants, one of these unbelievable survivors, was a spiritual experience.
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| Looking down through the hole where the young man disappeared. Vertical and tight! |
I would have stayed much longer but everyone around me had started back down the narrow crevice. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve cautioned people to always be aware of their exit – how are they going to get down. Well, I hadn’t taken my own advice. I had been so intent upon getting up through the hole that I hadn’t given any thought to my egress. I decided that I needed to stay at least within yelling distance. Of course, with the narrowness of the crevice and the depth of the canyon almost 400 feet below, a voice carries a long way.
Actually descending turned out to be easier than the ascent. I knew the combination in the narrows and when I got to the hole I would sit on a ledge, dangle my legs until I found a foot-hold and lower myself down. There was quite a crowd of people down at trail watching those of us who were making our way up and down the crevice. They asked a lot of questions. “Maybe I’ll go up next time,” one of them said. I hope they have a next time. I went this time because you’re never guaranteed that there will be a next.
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| The narrows just before the Palms |
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| First glimpse of the palms |
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| The magnificent California Palm growing in Arizona |
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| A Saguaro cactus with Signal Peak and Palm Canyon in the background. |
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