For Valentine's Weekend 2006, my wife and I decided to head out to our favorite hot springs, a curiously interesting little place called Essence of Tranquility, about five miles south of Safford in Graham County. Given that Valentines fell on a Tuesday this year, we headed out over the prior weekend, leaving our home Friday afternoon and rolling into the grounds at around 8 p.m. The Essence of Tranquility sits on about an acre of land, with room for a few campers, plus two small casitas and three teepees, all for rent. Being our third visit, and given that it was a bit cooler than on our other two visits, we opted against pitching a tent and instead rented one of the teepees. Yeah, imagine three teepees, two boxy casitas, and a handful of camping spots, all shoehorned onto a rectangle of land roughly 120 feet by 120 feet. The teepee is pretty sturdy, covered in a thick tarp and good at keeping the wind out, even though it did get pretty cool inside. The floor was a concrete slab and there were some basic beds. We had ourselves a basic dinner and treated ourselves to a dip in the tubs. We crashed about midnight.

We usually plan a hike for our visits to the Safford area along with our stay at the hot spring. Last October it was a short dayhike of Guthrie Peak in nearby Greenlee County. For this visit, we looked at a hefty hike up Bassett Peak in the Galiuro Mountains, an isolated range in southwestern Graham County. Despite Bassett Peak's noteworthy prominence (over 3,100 feet), it takes a real effort just to see the mountain range, as it is tucked far away from any large cities or major highways. You might see the Galiuros from Interstate-10 east of Tucson way to the north, or maybe from the small mining towns of Oracle or Mammoth in Pinal County. The fanous Aravaipa Canyon is located north of the range. Its isolation means that relatively few people visit the range at all, so we figured we had a good likelihood of having it to ourselves.

We awoke Saturday the 11th and enjoyed our cold, brisk morning at the hot springs by dipping into the pools until the sun rose higher. By 9:30 we left the grounds and started our journey to the trailhead. We followed US-191 south about 10 miles to highway AZ-266, then west along AZ-266 for 20 miles through the southern extension of the Pinaleno Mountains before beginning a long gradual descent into a broad desert valley toward the community of Bonita, which is just a few scattered homes and a lone school, plus a burned-out general store. We continued west on High Creek Road, losing the pavement near the school. High Creek Road is a good graded dirt road, and we followed it west, then south (where it gets renamed Sunset Loop Road) for about 16 miles to a set of ranch buildings and the junction with Coronado National Forest Road 660 at a T-junction. This road went west, first crossing a small meadow then entering into the forest near an old sign that mentioned the primitive nature of the road ahead. Sure enough, the conditions got rough pretty quickly, but nothing my truck couldn't handle as long as I kept it slow . For the remaining two miles to the trailhead parking area, the road braided in and out of Ash Creek, which was dry and rock-strewn. We had to cross one gate early on, and we finally parked at a small turnaround, large enough for about four vehicles. There were no signs at the trailhead, but it was pretty clear to us we were at the right place. My altimeter had our elevation at about 4,960 feet. The drive had gone slower than we thought, and including the time getting ourselves prepared, we didn't get started on our hike until 11:30 a.m. I packed in a flashlight - which turned out to be a very wise decision as you shall see later on in this narrative.

From our truck we hiked along the road as it passed through the creek, then up onto dirt again before coming to a gate, about 300 feet from the start. There are two gates here: a large gate for vehicles to pass through, and a regular one for people. At the people-gate, a trail sign mentioned Ash Creek Spring as 2.8 miles ahead, and Bassett Peak Trail #277 4 miles farther. The trail is a jeep track, much too nasty for my truck and probably only fit for ATVs. About three-quarters of a mile into the hike and about 200 vertical feet of gain, we came upon the small water tank noted on the topographical map. We took a small break here so I could calibrate my altimeter a bit better. Surprisingly, two friendly dogs came running up to us from below, soon followed by their masters, two women who live in the ranch complex on Sunset Loop Road. We chatted briefly; they hike up here a lot, naturally, and gave us good information of what to expect ahead. They were only going in for a short walk on this day. They continued on, and a few minutes later, so did Beth and I. About another three-fourths of a mile we came to yet another set of water tanks, both full and fed by the Ash Creek Spring still higher up in the canyon. The jeep road had by now reduced to a trail. For the 2.8 miles that it stayed low in the Ash Creek Canyon, the trail gained at a very gradual gradient, regularly crossing back and forth, in and out of the rocky drainage. We were treated to a long stretch of Maple, its leaves colored pink, red, orange and peach– A beautiful sight and one deserving of a photograph (see left sidebar). Toward Ash Creek Spring itself, the two dogs came running down toward us again, and shortly by the two women, who were now hiking back out. At Ash Creek Spring, the trail makes a sharp right amid a thicket of aspen at a concrete tub. To this point we'd covered the 2.8 miles and gained about 1,000 feet of elevation, my altimeter having us at 5,970 feet. We took a snack break and assessed our time and situation. It was nearing 2 p.m. and we had concerns about being out after dark, but the weather was holding up and we both felt energized to keep going.

After Ash Creek Spring, the trail starts a series of long switchbacks up a subridge north of Bassett Peak, emanating off of a subpeak marked as elevation 6,996. Quickly we ascended out of the thick trees and were now amid shorter, sparser growth, a few pines and juniper, plenty of madrone (manzanita), and a number of agave-like succulents, flora more in common in the Chihuahuan Desert. The going here was pretty good, although in a few spots the trail was gravelly and slippery. However, we gained elevation quickly, eventually turning westerly toward Peak 6996. Views east over the desert, foothills and the Pinaleno Mountains were outstanding, as was the impressive conical summit of Bassett Peak, directly to our south. We took another break at a flat section on the subridge east of Peak 6996, marked by a fire ring. Beth's knees were giving her trouble so we took the time to tape them us and relax. Shortly, we hiked the remaining little bit to put us onto the range crest immediately south of Peak 6996 and north of Bassett Peak. It was 3 p.m., and the conditions were gorgeous. After some discussion, Beth opted to stop here and rest, to give her knees time to recuperate for the hike down. We had packed in some blankets and reading material for this contingency, so we found a nice flat section of ground ringed by rocky outcrops, and set her up. The weather was actually quite warm: into the 60s, and a breeze that was gentle at its strongest. I ditched my pack and took just the barest essentials for the remaining hike to the summit, gave my wife about a dozen hugs and kisses, and bid me goodbye for about 90 minutes. A sign at this point had the peak as 1.4 miles away, while my map told me it was about 700 feet higher. Off I went.

I moved quickly, following the fine trail due south along the ridge, passing about three or four interesting rocky formations that lined the ridge. The trail dropped a bit, about 80 feet or so. After about a half-mile I was at the base of the final push to the top. From below the top looks intimidatingly steep and cliffy, but the trailbuilders still managed to etch in a route on Bassett Peak's north and west-facing flanks. In many parts it was no more than a foot-wide path crossing long scree sections. Tree and shrub cover was still moderate, and I moved as fast as I could, trying to return to Beth within my promised 90 minutes. Soon, the trail topped out on a small saddle high up at 7,550 feet, immediately west of the summit. A small cairn here suggested (?) a possible route to the top. Curiously, the trail only skirts the summit. Trusting the cairn, I entered into the brush-covered slopes for the final 110 feet to the summit. At first I was able to follow a mostly open path but quickly I found myself surrounded by dense thickets of madrone, sawgrass and fir. Sacrificing style for economy, I barged through most of the rest of the brush and surmounted the summit at 4 p.m. sharp. A small cairn was built upon the summit blocks. I signed in and rested briefly. Miles and miles of lonely mountains and deserts laid out before me! The views were outstanding, and absolutely worth the effort. But given it was already 4 p.m. and my wife was waiting for me, I got started down quickly and jog-walked back to her location, arriving at 4:40, 10 minutes longer than I had predicted. She had laid out her clothes to dry and was enjoying the sun, sights and solitude. But she, too, was aware of the time and we both got packed and moving down without time to waste.

Normally we wouldn't have been out on the trails this late in the day. But in our favor was a number of things: first, absolutely beautiful, stable and warm weather, and no threat of storms at all. Second, we knew that the sun would set about 6:30 p.m., and that the moon was nearing its full stage. We had a flashlight and were even a little eager to hike in the moonlight. Third, the route was fool-proof. Once back down into Ash Creek Canyon, we’d be on the old Jeep road. From Peak 6996 down to the Ash Creek Spring took us about an hour, and we still had good visibility. Daylight waned ever so steadily for the next hour or so until finally giving out completely for the day. When night fell for real, we were still about a mile and a half from the truck, using the water tanks to gauge our progress. The bright moon was occasionally obscured by the lower ridges, but also often was bright enough to allow us to see our way reasonably. I had the flashlight out and we used it to keep an eye out for the rocks in the trail that tripped us up. Then ... some rustling and a large shape appeared ahead of us. A bear? No, a stupid cow. We had seen a small herd on the way up, and here they were. We clapped our hands and told them to stand aside, generally making noise, and they obliged by crashing off into the brush. Except for one beef, who would run away from us by simply scooting further down the road. He (she?) proved to be kind of a pain, as we had to clap and shout to get the damn animal to finally enter into the woods. The cows were not a problem after our short encounter with them. Finally we came upon the gate. The final walk to the truck went fast, and I kept clicking the buttons on my key fob until I was in range to unlock my truck’s doors and momentarily flash its lights. A neat effect in the dark.

The drive back to Safford took awhile, almost two hours. We had an amusing encounter at the Golden Corral in town: we showed up with about 20 minutes before they closed. They were already mopping up and were not too thrilled to see us straggle in. We were the only ones there. So we ate and ignored them, and they continued to clean around us, hint hint hint. So literally with one minute before they close, a school bus rolls up and out comes a whole bunch of high-school kids. By the looks of it, they’d come back from an athletics meet somewhere. So now, the Golden Corral people were stuck for at least another hour. Late that night, tummies full, bodies sore, we drove back to the hot springs and allowed ourselves a very late-night dip into the pools. The hot water soothed our soreness and aches and pains beyond description. We slept well that night, and drove on home the next day. Fortunately there are a number of hikes and peaks in the Safford region, so we'll be sure to be back!