g the river, and ended up walking along the edge of a cliff before sliding down the scree that finally shot us out to the base of the springs where a (ubiquitous) naked drunk guy welcomed us to the area. But, he soon left and we had the place to ourselves for a bit while I showed Kohl all around the little oasis and we alternated between relaxing in the pools, cliff jumping, swimming through the rapids of the Verde, and splashing in the hot water that falls over the edge of the banks. It was great laughing like old times and just being our crazy selves. Of course, I was documenting the whole thing taking loads of pictures. As we were sitting by the pool with the camera, I mentioned to Kohl that it was ok if it got wet, as it was waterproof. For some reason, I tell her this every time we're near water with the camera. "Really, it's waterproof...? I didn't figure that out when we used it every day on the Atlantic." I don't know whether I forgot about rowing the Atlantic, using the camera out there, or the fact that Kohl was never further than four feet away from me during the entire trip, but I have stated the obvious to her on so many occasions that it's become a running joke.
After we had our fill of the hot springs, we made our way back downriver, taking a few minutes to ponder exploring the old ruins of the power plant before driving back to Fossil. At the trailhead, Kohl and I thoroughly explored the creek's many pools, swimming and just basking in the beauty of it all. I absolutely love the area, and it was great being able to share the joy of it. We spent the remainder of the afternoon exploring and swimming and jumping in the blue green waters. We didn’t even make it up to the bigger of the small falls, but I got to see pools that I had never swam in before and it was well worth it. Once we had exhausted ourselves in the pools, we played like little kids in the small puddles that line the creek and watched the tadpoles and other small creatures swimming around. We couldn’t resist bringing some home to attempt a little aqueous biosphere (I’m afraid it didn’t last too long). After a long day, we came home and had an excellent meal of potato soup and I prepared for the next great adventure.On Sunday, a group of 12 intrepid Phoenicians drove out to the Salome Wild
erness in Tonto National Forest out near Roosevelt Lake for a little canyoneering trip in Salome Creek. Armed with ropes, harnesses, belay devices and a whole lot of excitement, we hiked out a few miles from the trailhead to the creek. It was all desert before the creek, and unless you knew what was waiting ahead, you would have never thought that an oasis was tucked in below Dutchwoman Butte. The trip would have been perfect, but one careless mistake cost me one of my favorite and most versatile piece of outdoor equipment. With my camera tucked snugly in the pocket of my boardshorts, I excitedly half jumped/half fell into the creek and started
walking along the creek for a few feet before the bottom turned to algae. Not wanting to get caught up in the muck, I started swimming. A few feet later, I remembered about my camera, checked my pocket, and realized that the indispensable piece of equipment was no longer there. It may have been waterproof, but it certainly didn't float. After 10 minutes of fruitless fishing through the muck, we had to continue on without it. I was heartbroken and quite peeved at myself. That camera had lasted me dozens of trips, taken thousands of pictures, and survived several falls to the bottom of other creeks, drops off of rocks, and an ocean. I was devastated at the loss. Alas, Salome Creek was as good of a distraction as any, and it was gorgeous - plus I try to always carry an extra camera and photographer, usually in the form of Hannah. After snaking our way through several boulder fields and
small waterfalls, the creek entered a narrow canyon surrounded by pink granite walls. We swam, jumped, and slid our way through the deep clear pools, waterfalls, and slick waterslides. It was better than a water park, and much more awe inspiring. It was certainly an adult playground, and for hours we splashed through the canyon, our laughter echoing off of the ever growing walls. After a few miles of incredible fun, we arrived at a large pool surrounded by perfect jumping cliffs and ending in a 30' waterfall. While Bill set up the ropes for the rappel, Haydon and I launched ourselves off of the walls and plunged into the cold pool. Finally, we started one by one down the rope into another large pool below. Once we were all safely to the bottom, we swam out to the end of the canyon with huge smiles on our faces. In a bit of reverse karma from losing my camera, Hannah almost became
a casualty of a splashing war between Pierre and I. Fortunately for all of us, the massive rock that I threw (narrowly) missed her head. The hike back out wasn't too bad, as our waterlogged bodies fought off the evening sun with great efficiency. We ended the weekend with a meal in Tonto Basin and drove home happy with another great adventure in the books.
erness in Tonto National Forest out near Roosevelt Lake for a little canyoneering trip in Salome Creek. Armed with ropes, harnesses, belay devices and a whole lot of excitement, we hiked out a few miles from the trailhead to the creek. It was all desert before the creek, and unless you knew what was waiting ahead, you would have never thought that an oasis was tucked in below Dutchwoman Butte. The trip would have been perfect, but one careless mistake cost me one of my favorite and most versatile piece of outdoor equipment. With my camera tucked snugly in the pocket of my boardshorts, I excitedly half jumped/half fell into the creek and started
walking along the creek for a few feet before the bottom turned to algae. Not wanting to get caught up in the muck, I started swimming. A few feet later, I remembered about my camera, checked my pocket, and realized that the indispensable piece of equipment was no longer there. It may have been waterproof, but it certainly didn't float. After 10 minutes of fruitless fishing through the muck, we had to continue on without it. I was heartbroken and quite peeved at myself. That camera had lasted me dozens of trips, taken thousands of pictures, and survived several falls to the bottom of other creeks, drops off of rocks, and an ocean. I was devastated at the loss. Alas, Salome Creek was as good of a distraction as any, and it was gorgeous - plus I try to always carry an extra camera and photographer, usually in the form of Hannah. After snaking our way through several boulder fields and
small waterfalls, the creek entered a narrow canyon surrounded by pink granite walls. We swam, jumped, and slid our way through the deep clear pools, waterfalls, and slick waterslides. It was better than a water park, and much more awe inspiring. It was certainly an adult playground, and for hours we splashed through the canyon, our laughter echoing off of the ever growing walls. After a few miles of incredible fun, we arrived at a large pool surrounded by perfect jumping cliffs and ending in a 30' waterfall. While Bill set up the ropes for the rappel, Haydon and I launched ourselves off of the walls and plunged into the cold pool. Finally, we started one by one down the rope into another large pool below. Once we were all safely to the bottom, we swam out to the end of the canyon with huge smiles on our faces. In a bit of reverse karma from losing my camera, Hannah almost became
a casualty of a splashing war between Pierre and I. Fortunately for all of us, the massive rock that I threw (narrowly) missed her head. The hike back out wasn't too bad, as our waterlogged bodies fought off the evening sun with great efficiency. We ended the weekend with a meal in Tonto Basin and drove home happy with another great adventure in the books. 
1 comment:
I have other canyoneering adventures in mind, if you are interested.
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