Out of the Frying Pan, Into the Freezer: Reavis Ranch

Out of the Frying Pan, Into the Freezer: Reavis Ranch

A little over 100 years ago, a hermit named Reavis inhabited a remote corner of the Superstition Mountains.  He planted a fruit orchard and cultivated vegetables in a canyon within the upper reaches of the Eastern side of this classic and relatively arid low desert mountain range.

The drive to the trailhead is brutal, albeit beautiful. If you have ever driven to Apache lake, you were 3/4 of the way there. The shadeless hike up the exposed ridge, in the elevation zone still warm enough for saguaros, was uncomfortable at the noon start of our 10 mile journey. The climb, mile for mile, is relatively easy as far as backpacking in the mountains goes, with less than 2000 feet to be gained over 10 miles. Not to say the journey was easy, as the drive to the trailhead had already significantly drained my mental stamina on this weekend warrior dash.  The tight, one-car-wide dirt switchbacks filled with cars, all with windows rolled down billowing clouds of dust, some driving too fast, others too slow, had taken the better part of 4 hours from our home in Marara.

The sun beat down on us for about six miles. The views up the ridge are expansive, and winter's first green is truly gold.  I sensed the rarity of green slopes in all directions is this Sonoran Desert landscape.  

We stopped at a vista overlooking both Canyon and Apache lake, and marveled at the beauty of the sandstone cliffs, visible far below, surrounded by the jagged peaks of the Superstition range. We wondered if the view was more beautiful now, with the lakes, or if it had been better then, when Reavis followed this route with his mules and produce a century ago, before the dams went in.  I try to avoid comparisons, but the view is strikingly similar to views from within the Grand Canyon.

Either way, this is a desert mountain landscape: saguaros, creosote, and occasional scrub oak.  Not the landscape of apple trees and large scale agriculture in the late 1800s. Certainly not a place one would expect to freeze to death.

The valley where Reavis Ranch sits is not much higher than other, barren surrounding peaks within the range. There are two relatively reliable creeks which converge near it. The fertile River Valley lined with giant elm trees, Juniper, oak, piñon and even Pondarosa, with mile long meadows of thick, green grass and rows of unpruned yet still productive apple trees seems totally juxtaposed in the middle of what is an otherwise hot dry landscape. If you have ever traveled into the superstition Mountains, or visited Canyon, saguaro  Apache, or Roosevelt legs, or if you have two down the salt River then you have visited the otherwise dry and hot backdrop of this mysteriously cool and life infused place.

Superstition Range, from Reavis Ranch trail

We set up camp. As we prepared dinner under the dwindling light, we could appreciate the precipitous drop in temperature.

Reavis Ranch, evening

That night, I found the drawstring on my mummy bag for the first time since I purchased it. Our tent, pads, and sleeping bags have always been more than enough to keep us comfortably warm, even in the freak hail, sleet, and snow storm at 13,000 feet, when ice piled up against the side of the tent, and ice water flowed underneath, making the floor of the tent as cold as the rack in your freezer. Still, the air temperature in Reavis Ranch must have dropped into the teens that night, to the extent that I have never experienced overnight in the outdoors. 

Camp, on the far end of Reavis Ranch, morning

The cold air forced us to delay breakfast the next morning, opting instead to let our own internal combustion keep us from rigoring.  Within an hour, we were cooking breakfast and shedding layers. By the time we arrived back at the car, we were chugging soda and cranking the AC.