West Baldy Trail
After a season spent clearing the trail, we returned to see what the mountain had been up to.
Back to the mountain
What It Took to Reopen West Fork Baldy
For the past six weeks, much of our time had gone into preparing for and hosting the Fall Trails Celebration. It was a wonderful evening, thanks to the supporters and trail enthusiasts who helped make it happen. But aside from our workday before the event, we hadn’t had much time to get out on the trail.
I was ready.
Black River was a close second choice for a destination, but the water was high after the recent rains, and snow was in the forecast for Baldy. One more trip up the mountain seemed like a fitting way to close our season there. By the end of the weekend I hoped it would be wearing at least a thin veil of white.
I was also anxious to see how many trees had fallen since our last clearing. Our crew had spent eight days working on West Fork this year and finally cleared it through to the junction with East Fork, for the first time in about four years. After the winds we’d had since then, I knew there would be more downed trees. I just didn’t know how many.
The Journey
The coldest temperature we saw on the drive was 22 degrees. By the time we pulled into the parking area, the dashboard read 32. There was one other vehicle, a muddy truck that looked as though it might belong to a hunter.
We started from Sheep’s Crossing. I liked the thought of following the river back to the vehicle at the end of a long day, rather than finishing with climbing the hills back to the main West Fork trailhead.
This was my first properly cold hike of the season. I’d decided against long underwear and regretted it for the first half hour. After that, the climb warmed me up enough and I never thought of it again.
Underfoot, the ground crunched. The wet trail had frozen overnight into tiny ice crystals that gave way with each step. It felt like walking on ice sand: fun to listen to, less fun when it moved and shifted beneath my feet.
The creek was running high but clear enough to see the bottom. Flattened grass along its banks showed where the water had been even higher. We followed the trail through the shaded canyon, with sunlight reaching only a few places ahead of us. Those exposed meadows can feel warm in summer but were cool at the moment, and with a forecast high in the upper 40s, I wasn’t expecting much trouble from the sun today.
For a while, it was easy to forget we were in Arizona. The flowing water, the cold air, the forest around us, all of it brought Colorado to mind.
I wish there were a way to save the scent of a day like that. Maybe it was the extra moisture, or the quality of the autumn light, but a trail I knew so well felt fresh and new again.
A Familiar Trail, a Different Day
Somewhere along the way, I started counting my trips up Baldy this year. Eight workdays on West Fork, a scouting day, and this final hike made ten outings on the west side. Add on a trip up the East Fork, and I’d been on Baldy eleven times.
That doesn’t mean eleven trips to the top. On workdays, we went as far as the work allowed. Sometimes a single difficult tree could occupy us for hours. Only on our last clearing day did we reach the junction.
Even after all those visits, I found myself lying awake the night before thinking about the distance and what it would take physically. A hike in the neighborhood of fifteen miles with a lot of vertical gain is a big day. An active life and a few workouts don’t make it something I can take for granted.
I don’t think that little bit of uncertainty is a bad thing. It reminds me to pay attention to how I feel during the day, to the weather and the trail in front of me, rather than assuming that because I did it last time, today will be the same.
The rain had changed things, too. Water was running along stretches of trail where, in recent dry years, the drainage problems are much less obvious. Seeing it now and walking through a trail-turned-stream made me think how much difference some well-placed drainages could make. I took work notes along the way of sections we should begin work on improving the trail tread drainage.
Lunch at the Junction
We reached the junction with East Fork in about five hours. Along the way, we counted 44 fallen trees.
More than I’d hoped.
Aaron pointed out that climbing over trees gives people a chance to appreciate a clear trail when they find one. There’s something to that. Once you’ve worked your way over, under, or around enough of them, an open stretch feels pretty wonderful.
Canada jays joined us at lunch. We called them camp robbers when we lived in Colorado, they were plentiful up there and quite willing to live up to the name. It was good to see them again.
So far, we've had the trail to ourselves.
Where the Views Open Up
My favorite part of West Fork may be the walk back down through the high country. The creek is beautiful, especially in those first few miles, but the views from above are where the money is.
Mile after mile, there is something to look at. Open slopes, distant ridges, and country that makes me wonder what it would be like to get over there and explore. I have to remind myself to watch where I’m putting my feet.
That’s one reason I’m drawn to the west side. East Fork has its own beauty, but much of the descent feels enclosed by trees, hovered over by rock. West Fork is continually giving those long, open views that keep pulling your attention outward.
It’s also a rugged trail, especially for horses. Above the creek crossing, stretches traverse steep, steep hillsides where a large fallen tree can easily leave no room to get around. Clearing those places takes work, and a blockage can make a much bigger difference than the tree count alone suggests.
A Place Worth Portecting
That was part of what made this year’s clearing so satisfying. We opened a route that had been obstructed for years. There is still tread work and brushing to do, but getting the fallen trees out of the way was a real accomplishment.
I had hoped to return and walk the whole route to the junction without those pesky over and under interruptions. As it turned out, I never got that particular hike this year. We cleared our way through in stages, and by the time I came back simply to hike, more trees had fallen.
That was disappointing. But it couldn’t undo what we’d done.
The trail was still better than when we started. The work had made a difference, even if the mountain hadn’t held everything in place for my return visit.
Final Thoughts
I’ll admit that the last stretch always feels a little long. After a full day, the meadows and patches of forest begin to repeat themselves, and part of me is ready to see the vehicle. The river is still beautiful. My feet are simply ready to be finished.
Starting at Sheep’s Crossing felt like a good choice as we followed the water back toward the parking area.
It felt so good to get out. Cold earth underfoot, wind, warmth from the sun, water running everywhere, and that wonderful forest smell. After weeks of event preparations, I was deeply grateful for a day spent walking with Aaron and seeing the mountain again.
We know there are 44 trees waiting for us now. By next season, there will undoubtedly be more.
But I came home happy. We had helped open this trail, enjoyed another beautiful day on it, and seen what needs attention next.
We’ll be back. We’ll get it done.
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