Unique wilderness full of legends

The Superstition Mountain lands were designated Primitive Area in 1937 and wilderness in 1964. They encompass 160,000 acres of Sonoran Desert, riparian canyons, oak-juniper woodlands, high-elevation pine, and interesting rock formations from volcanic processes.

Used lightly by early cliff dwellers and Apaches, the Superstitions attracted miners in the 19th and 20th centuries, then cattle ranchers selling beef to miners. Reavis Ranch had a vegetable garden and orchard. (Reavis’ gravesite is on the Arizona Trail [AZT] north of Rogers Trough Trailhead.) Springs and trails bear names of other stockmen. The popular Dutchman Trail was inspired by a German (“Dutch”) immigrant who claimed to have found gold. The “Lost Dutchman’s Mine” search has inspired many books and maps.

With trail elevations only 2000 to 5600 feet, the Superstitions often boast high temperatures and dry conditions and are best visited in winter or spring for cool weather and adequate water.

Superstition changes over the decades

We often visited the area for Christmas break over the years and saw many changes: few people in the 1970s; in the 1980s, vandalism threatened parking at remote trailheads. Cattle numbers were reduced, but the vast trails network became less pleasant as thorny desert scrub encroached lesser-used areas, maybe because of reduced grazing after heavy use for many years. In the late 1990s the area became a favorite day or weekend visit for users from Peralta and First Water trailheads near Mesa. Stock (horse) overuse reduced some trails into rocky rubble; campers, not cattle, trashed areas near springs. The overwhelmed Tonto National Forest had difficulty maintaining trails in the 1990s and early 2000s, although recently has made progress with adopt-a-trail groups and Arizona Trail (AZT) volunteers.

We lived on the East Coast many years and were not aware of impacts of climate change in the West—and an overall drought in Arizona. Our post-millennial Superstitions hikes—facilitated by air travel from Washington DC and rental cars in Phoenix—happened to hit the area after unusual fall rains.

In 2008, family dropped us off at Tortilla Ranch and we hiked as far as Rogers Canyon—where we turned back because it was full of water and impossible to hike.

In 2013, a dry year in the Southwest was suddenly changed by heavy rains and snow in November—on our visit to the Superstitions found we deep pools in Red Tanks, usually dry, above La Barge Canyon.

2016: Dry Night in Angel Basin

After our vain search for water up bone dry Rogers Canyon (which was under two feet of water in 2008!) we set up the tent. We each ate a power bar, took a swig of water, and went to bed. Next morning, we got up at daylight, breakfasting on power bars and sips of water. Map showed five springs enroute to Reavis Ranch where Reavis Creek usually was running, but we were not sure of anything.

David kept dropping off trail into the wash, looking for potholes. He found one which we drained to pump a liter of water.

Two miles down canyon, David spotted a pool or mirage from the trail; after a brief trek back up the wash from trail crossing, we found a beautiful deep-water hole appropriately named “Hole Spring.” Our brush with mortality was over! I enjoyed cooked breakfast and bath.

All the other springs were dry on the climb up to Reavis Saddle—Frog Tank, Cimarron, Plow Saddle, Willow—although we did not look for pools. We found pools on Reavis Creek and camped among large juniper, live oak, sycamore and maybe Arizona Cypress.

That night a storm moved in.

A little rain changed everything. We broke camp in rain, hiked along Reavis Valley in rain gear with periodic showers, then a cold cloudy afternoon hiking over divide, down to Rogers Canyon junction and up to Rogers Trough trailhead. We met weekend backpackers heading up to Reavis. We hiked up the Pinto Creek trail to Rogers Trough on a breezy sunny hillside to set up camp and dry out. The trough was dry but a cut pipe from the spring was running above it.

Clouds indicated more rain for the evening. David securely staked the tent and we dug trenches around it. I hiked to West Pinto Divide and hurried down as thick clouds rolled in.

The storm almost let us finish dinner before it arrived in a fury with high winds, driving rain, and thunder and lightning. Around midnight David had to don rain gear to “rescue” our backpacks, tossed around by gale. My boots, tucked under the fly, were soaked in driving rain. I wondered about the campers at Reavis, 1400 feet higher.

The rest of the trip was cold and windy; but we found every spring with ample pools; only the washes were dry. David filled up at every waterhole—just in case.

2017: Slick rock disaster on popular Peralta

We rarely used the popular trailheads but made an exception in March 2017—to my downfall. I was jogging down Peralta Trail from Fremont Saddle. I slowed to turn on a switchback and braced my foot against a rock. Slick and polished from thousands of boots, the rock was like black ice. I fell and broke my arm. Will probably never return to that popular trailhead!

2019: Night visitor, fire-altered creek

Our most recent visits toured a landscape suddenly marred by the area’s first megafire. But water—unseasonal rains—may have fueled the burn and hampered post-fire hiking conditions.

Started in late June 2019 by human ignition on the south wilderness boundary, the Woodbury Fire burned 96,000 acres, all the wilderness except the popular westside trails near Mesa. (Although that area burned in the Sawtooth and Superstition fires of summer 2020).

Heavy rains in October 2018 and January-February 2019 created a bright, mostly non-native, grass carpet in range country. Red brome (possibly planted for earlier cattle use) dried out in late spring and carried the wildfire to the crest of the mountains, burning most of the pinyon juniper and pine. Then a late September storm brought extensive floods and washed-out SR 88 between Tortilla Flat and Lake Roosevelt. (Still closed in 2023 although Arizona Transportation Department is studying possible new road alignment).

We did a brief visit to east side of Superstitions in December 2019 to “check out” the burn area, driving far around the ugly sprawling Pinto Mine complex to enter lovely shaded and unburned Haunted Canyon apparently named for a narrow section with dark walls.

Further up the creek, our camp in sycamore trees was disturbed by one “scary” visitor.

Late at night I heard scrabbling on the tent right by my head. I banged on the side and the noise subsided, then started again. Something was shaking the tent wall. I roused David, who unzipped his side for a look. A fox was gnawing on the tent, trying to make its way inside!

David put on his boots and ran after the animal, yelling and waving a hiking pole. When he dashed after it, it retreated towards the woods but came back several times, making wide circles around our camp. Finally, it disappeared into the forest.

(After the trip we contacted Arizona Game and Fish officials; one thought it could be a rabid fox and was relieved we had no contact, although another said the animal might be habituated to people and searching for food rather than someone to bite.)

On up the canyon we visited Tony Ranch, a historic cabin heavily visited by day hikers from north end of Haunted Canyon Trail. We continued on lesser-used brushy Bull Basin Trail over pass to Rock Creek for a peaceful night in the woods.

Next day we entered the fire zone on sandy shallow West Pinto Creek (formerly a cool shady rocky stream). Oak Flat junction was a barren waste with blackened stumps and broken signs (newly installed just a couple years before!). We climbed a couple of miles up the winding Campaign Trail, in fair shape but eroding and rapidly encroached by thorny vegetation.

2020: Wet Hiking in Burned Wilderness

Our last, longer visit to eastside Superstitions in March 2020 was nice weather but soggy hiking. We were discouraged by multiple crossings of high, muddy Campaign Creek. A tantalizing green meadow high on the hillside above the creek was non-native invasive wild oats, a common sight throughout our trip.

When the canyon narrowed and crossings deepened, we abandoned our plans to loop via this trail and Fire Line to Reavis Ranch. Instead, we hiked up Reavis Gap Trail and caught the AZT—a boggy track over a ridge and down to the ranch site. But we did not get to camp in the beautiful green pasture under the oaks—Reavis Creek was running high and fast, and we hesitated to cross it in the dark. Instead, we camped in remnant oak on mucky clay.

The next day we crossed lowered creek. I wanted to visit Reavis Falls (downstream from the ranch, reached by a steep route off the Reavis Trail [an old road]). With the high water it had to be stupendous. However, the burned road with numerous washouts was so slow-going, we had to turn back right where the falls route took off—to get back to camp before dark.

We finished our loop (down AZT and side trail back to our vehicle). But I wanted to see Reavis Falls. We agreed to hike in from beginning of Reavis Trail on the Apache Trail (SR 88). We were told that the road was open to the Reavis turnoff. It wasn’t. We parked at road closure and followed GPS up a steep wash to Reavis Trailhead, cutting off 5+ extra road miles. But it took an hour and the road through burn was slow in places, as was the steep 3-mile route to the falls. We got to Reavis Creek—still almost a mile short of the falls and with just enough daylight left to get back to Lime Mountain where we left our packs for camp.

The creek was running high. David thinks we would not have made it up the steep narrow canyon to see the falls—unless we did a lot of wading.

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