Maple Peak is an isolated peak tucked far from prying eyes in the foothills of the White Mountains of Eastern Arizona. Its elevation of 8,294 feet makes it just a foothill of the mighty Whites, which feature numerous peaks above 10,000 feet and up to 11,400 feet. Even so, Maple Peak is unique among its neighbors for its relatively significant prominence. With a prominence of 2,370 feet, Maple Peak does in fact stand tall and noticeable among its neighbors – assuming one can get to a vantage point to actually see the mountain. As a result of its isolation and anonymity, Maple Peak sees very few visitors in a typical year. But its inclusion among the top-50 most prominent peaks in Arizona has raised its profile ever so slightly. The nearest paved highways are US-191 to the west and US-180 to the east, both roughly a dozen air-miles from the peak, and far enough way so that views of Maple Peak are nearly impossible unless you know exactly when to look and where to look. The peak sits barely inside Arizona, about 3 air-miles west of the New Mexico state line, and just south of the Blue Range Primitive Area in central Greenlee County. The Apache National Forest governs the land in the region (just over the stateline in New Mexico, the lands come under the aegis of the Gila National Forest). In recent years, the area has been a nexus-point for the reintroduction of the Mexican Grey Wolf, a species formerly home to the range but hunted to near extinction. Bear is also very common in the area.

I became interested in Maple Peak when I caught onto the Arizona Top-50 list – Maple Peak sits at spot #45 – and began to research the trails in and around the region. My wife and I were planning a week-long trip into western New Mexico and this would be the first of two big hikes planned for the journey. Not much information is available on this peak, and the maps don’t show a trail to the top – and bushwhacking through the likely-thick scrub was not attractive – but the rangers assured me there is a trail, and I was able to find one marked on the Blue Range map put out by the Forest Service. We’d be approaching the peak from the east, coming up from the town of Alma in New Mexico, and hiking up Snare Canyon then onto the top. On the face of it, it looked pretty straightforward: a road ended right about at the AZ/NM state line, a trail went up Snare Canyon for about 3 miles to a saddle, then (unmarked on the USGS topo map) another trail would take us to the top. I guessed about 10 miles round trip and about 1,800 feet of net gain.

We left the Phoenix area on the 12th, driving the 260 miles through Globe and Safford into New Mexico, then through the small communities of Glenwood and Alma before following a series of gravel roads into the heart of the hills. The topo maps for Alma were much more recent (2002) and showed plenty of roads with designations. Just south of Alma, past the concrete bridge spanning a creek, we went west on Catron County Road 17, then very quickly, left at a Y-junction onto CR-8, then a few moments later, CR-8 merged in with CR-4, which surmounted a small rise and went west. A little over a mile later, we turned left onto CR-3 (marked as Smoothing Iron Road). A Forest Service sign mentioned Smoothing Iron as being 9 miles distant. We stayed on CR-3 as it gained moderately up onto a mesa, then traversed a large meadow called Roberts Park. About 7 miles in, Smoothing Iron Road goes right at a junction (CR-45 on the map), but we stayed on CR-3 and sure enough, that took us right to Smoothing Iron, which is really nothing more than a junction of two roads and a forest-service sign designating it as such. Nearby is a residence. We parked on the lee-side of a glade of trees lining a dry creek, hiding us from the residence and offering us a smooth, flat and shielded place to set up camp. Although it was not a developed campground, there were a few fire rings, and upon inspection, a well-hidden and primitive (although useful) privy for those particular calls of nature. It was about 6:30 pm when we arrived, well into dusk, but with plenty of light and time to allow us to set up the tent and inspect the area. A full moon was rising to the east, and not long after we arrived we spotted a man and a boy riding up over a rise on their horses. They came up to us and we had a friendly 15-minute chat. They live at the residence and run cattle on the nearby lands – as best as I could determine, the immediate area (including our camp area) was his private land, but the forest service owns some land also, probably all in a confusing checkerboard pattern. He was very friendly, had no problem with us camping there (he said it was a popular hunter’s camp in fall), and gave us some information on the region and what to expect in the hills. He was very much a cowboy, speaking with a drawl, a bolus of tobacco in his lip. His son, about 7, was friendly as well, and he entertained himself with a lariat. At one point I stood about 6 feet and he lassoed me two times out of three attempts. It was the man who told us of the wolves and bears, and asked if we had a ‘pees-tole’ to carry in with us (we did). After a while they rode on to their home and we settled in for a good night’s rest. The evening was warm and breezy but very comfortable; we awoke at about 6 am to cool clear weather – cool, but without the chill in the air. It was going to be a warm day.

Beth was not feeling well enough to hike, and at 7 a.m. she decided to skip the hike and preserve her energy for the big Mount Taylor hike we had planned a few days later. She was content to stay at camp and explore the area (it was very pretty!) and let me go in on my own. Based on what I knew about the route I figured about 6-8 hours round trip. I left at 8 a.m. sharp, expecting to be out as early as 2 (if everything went perfectly) and definitely by 4 (allowing for the usual unexpected things that pop up). So in I went.

Since Beth was staying back at camp I did not drive the truck up the rest of the road – I left it at Smoothing Iron and walked the road to its end. This portion was easy – it gained a bit at first, then leveled for awhile, entered into a sparse pinon forest, gained a small hill and finally dropped steeply to a wire gate. From the truck to here was about 1.5 miles and about 400 feet of gain. I covered it in about 30 minutes and felt fine. Some cattle were milling at the gate but they scooted aside as I approached. I passed through the gate and continued on the sketchy road as it stayed left, dropped a bit then gained up and down for about a half mile before rising to a clearing atop a small ridge. A large fire-ring was here, suggesting this is used as a camp occasionally. At this point I got a bit confused. The road went steeply up a hillside and not in agreement with the map. Some other trails stayed level but eventually petered out, again, not in agreement with where I wanted to be. I explored a steep descent route into a side-canyon but figured it not to be correct either. I ended up wasting about 45 minutes here following the trails and roads, sometimes twice ‘just to be sure’. Eventually it was the steep descent route that I wanted – I followed it down and down, losing about 200 feet where it eventually fed me into the bottom of Snare Canyon itself. At last, I was back on route, but now behind schedule.

I continued up the trail in Snare Canyon as it went in and out with the dry, rocky creek-bed. For the most part the trail was well-marked and easy to follow. After about another mile I came upon some old corrals, then as I turned a corner, spooked a bear who was wallowing in some spring-fed pools about 300 feet ahead of me. He took off without hesitation, which was just fine by me, but I did get a good look at him and he seemed to be a solid, large healthy male – who hadn’t lost his fear of humans, which was good news for me. Nevertheless, at this point I brought out my ‘pees-tole’ (a .44-caliber short-barrel ‘special’, a gift from my dad), loaded it with 5 rounds and holstered it in my belt, and continued forward. I was pretty spooked! Yet, I didn’t want to turn around and head out – I’ve probably walked by 50 bears in my hikes without ever seeing them. I didn’t want this one-time spooking to develop into a full fear, so I opted to continue forward. I said to myself if I saw another bear, then I would turn around and head out. So I walked forward, going slow, clapping my hands at every turn and talking out loud, hyper-aware of the scene and on the lookout for the brown beasts. I saw neither hide nor hair of any more bears, but I had to take this stretch slowly, which put me even further off schedule.

Finally, I had covered the extant of Snare Canyon, arriving up to its headwall and saddle where the trail I was on met up with the Maple Peak Trail, marked by a sign and the summit still 2.5 miles away. To here I had covered about 4.5 miles with a net gain of about 1,000 feet – it was actually very moderate gradients the whole way. But it was hot and I was lagging, not to mention my getting lost and the bear encounter. I rested here a bit then started up the steep trail and switchbacks to the top. The trail started up the south-facing slopes of the Maple Peak massif. The trees are absent here, but the grasses, scrub and thorny-brush is everywhere. That, and the trail was steep, very loose, poorly maintained and often difficult to follow. I went slowly, got off-trail two or three times, and eventually worked my way to the east end of the main summit body, still about a mile from the peak, which was not visible from my vantage. On the plus side, I had re-entered into a moderate forest cover, which offered shade and mitigated the heat. Here, the trail became indistinct and I followed some pink ribbons tied to trees up a moderate grassy slope to a fence line that runs along the spine of the ridge (I’m guessing this might be the Blue Range Primitive Area boundary). At the fence line the trail was more distinct, but it weaved in and around, up and over a series of rocky knobs, downed brush, trees and scrub. There are two false summits along the way; finally, at the second false summit did I get my first views of the true summit – an abruptly conical peak, covered in scrub and trees and somewhat bland in appearance. I had to scoot through the fence here, descend about 100 feet, then slowly ascend the final grade to the top. This part went slow. There really was no trail here other than a few cleared paths. I was pretty beat, going slow and functioning on fumes mostly. But I made it – at about 12:30 p.m. I stuck around long enough to sign into the register. Only then did I realize the extent of the lack of visitation that Maple Peak receives: I was the first person to sign in since the previous September, and only the 4th or 5th overall since the register was placed there in 2004. The names in the register were all familiar to me – including some with whom I’ve hiked before – and mainly those people, like me, who are picking off the prominence peaks within Arizona. It was hot, brushy and pokey – and frankly, the views were nice but not amazing. It had taken me longer than planned to make the top, so I didn’t waste any time and as soon as I’d signed in, I turned around and started the descent.

Although tired and hot, I still felt energetic and felt I could make up good time on the descent as it was all (mostly) downhill. So I marched and stopped as little as possible. The portion back to the saddle above Snare Canyon took less than an hour, despite my turning my ankles a few times on the loose rock. It was a bit before 2 p.m. and I rested and hydrated a bit before starting down again. My 2 p.m. egress time was surely not going to be met – I still had 4.5 miles conservatively to walk out. But I figured 3:30 p.m. was still reasonable, so I got moving again. I went slow again through the sections where I had seen the bear, and by this time I was simply slowing down due to the heat and exhaustion. It was close to 3 p.m. when I had arrived at the base of the descent part I had encountered on the hike in – and I had to now ascend this bit. A trail was here that I had not seen on my hike in, but it seemed solid and it went in the direction I needed, so I followed it. It did gain the 300 feet or so, very tiring and forcing me to stop just to gather some more steam. My progress was slow, and I had some more ankle-turning events on the rocky bits before the trail – what was left of it – fed me back out to the gate. I had wondered why I didn’t see this trail this morning and I now knew why – it was barely recognizable immediately past the gate. In any case, it was now 3:30 p.m. and I passed through the gate – and still had the 1.5-mile road walk out back to the truck. At my pace I wasn’t going to make 4 o’clock either, and I knew I was going to scare the daylights out of Beth, who was probably worried sick about me. As an extra bonus, both feet had developed blisters. I walked this 1.5-mile section in about an hour, stumbling back out to the truck at 4:20 p.m., utterly exhausted and emotionally spent. Beth had hiked up a road with a good view to see if she could see me, so that when I arrived back she was actually not there – but she saw me show up, and came up to meet me. She was frantic – worried that I had been felled by the heat or animals or whatever – and frankly, I couldn’t blame her, and I felt terrible for putting her through this. Me, I was extremely grateful just to be out. The last few miles had utterly exhausted me and I was completely, totally out of juice. Although the hike and the peak have its moments, I ultimately did not have an enjoyable day. The heat was a bastard – well into the 90s back at the truck and mid-80s up high. I had loaded up on drinks and still had a bottle of water in my pack, but the dry breeze and low humidities conspired to dehydrate me so that no matter what I drank in the field, I was immediately thirsty again. I sucked down three cool drinks from the cooler back at the truck and only then did I feel like I was getting a handle on my hydration again. We packed up and got moving.

The drive out to the highway went quickly and we had about 40 miles to cover to the little town of Reserve, the Catron County seat, where we had a hotel room already booked. I was filthy, dusty and totally scratched up. We bathed, ate a hearty meal and just stayed close and held one another. I had really pushed myself today – probably more than I should have. I had scared my wife by being late, and I had scared myself by really pushing the margins. I had become complacent with my successes of late, and I was summarily taught a valuable lesson in the field. We had no solid ‘Plan B’ in case I had been injured. The residents of the nearby house were not in, and we couldn’t raise a signal on our cell phones. This peak taught me a number of lessons I badly needed to learn or be reminded of, and it gave me a spanking to boot. Lesson learned!

In reflection, this peak isn’t as difficult as I encountered it. We had a particularly hot day, and I started from 1.5 miles back. The final road is passable to high-clearance vehicles, and should I ever do it again (I won’t), I would drive this stretch and reduce the hiking mileage from about 14 miles to 11. Had I known of the condition of the trail I might have estimated my times better. Had I not gotten lost or dallied with the bear, I would have been faster. I can’t complain, really. I appreciate the lessons I learned today.