Exploring the Galiuro Wilderness

I had a problem when 2022 started. I didn’t know where to go hiking. Now, this isn’t because Arizona doesn’t have enough places to hike - from the majestic Grand Canyon in the north to the unique sky islands in the south, the forested highlands of the east to the rugged desert challenges of the west - this state is bursting with fantastic hiking opportunities. The problem is more with decision overload. Luckily, I already had a solution to this problem… I needed a new project.

The Mazatzal project started in 2016, just like my waterfall project started in 2008. I tried to go for a hike, and it was tough, because I didn’t know what to expect. Before going on any hike I spend a decent amount time researching the area, looking at the forecast, trying to guess at the right plan and gear to have a fun time. When there isn’t a lot of information about a location, or it’s quite outside my “usual” haunts, surprise misfortunes show up. My first foray into the Mazatzal Wilderness (Club Cabin from Davenport Wash) wasn’t too bad, as long as you ignore the sleepless, sweaty night that resulted from bad gear choices. The next two adventures were worse, tho, resulting in injuries, heat sickness, and quick bails. I took this as a signal that I needed to up my game (ultralight) and my readiness (explore the area extensively).

It took a few years, and a lot of trail miles, before I finally understood the wilderness’s character and felt confident out there. The stories behind the trails, devastation from the wildfires, and beautiful rebounding growth became a second home for me. Dozens of trips later and my boots had seen every mile of trail out there, and I had the GPS tracks, photos, and memories to share with the world. This is what I was looking for in 2022, a new project, a new wilderness area to explore and learn.

The Galiuro project, of course, started in the same vein. A visit to Powers Garden in 2021 challenged and humbled me in ways that surprised me. Overgrown trails, rugged terrain, and the lack of reliable water sources made for a memorable, if exhausting outing. That quick overnight outing left me wanting more… once the scratches healed, anyways.

And so I decided to embark on a new wilderness project, explore every last trail and named location with manic thoroughness. Just like the Mazatzals, I started with a map, charting out efficient ways of looping that minimized repeat tracks (hello, Konigsberg bridge). Just like the Mazatzals, a few early bails complicated things, early retreats that forced a few extra visits. It started with a rough venture up Paddy’s River Trail, a decommissioned trail up a thick, wooded canyon, with a frigid night in Rattlesnake Canyon. It expanded to encompass most of the eastern side, the “easier” side to reach, my map slowly filling out. It eventually included the only western trailhead at YLE Ranch, the only time I drove less than two hours to start a hike. It finished with a ridiculous, 3-day, 50-mile loop that I still can’t believe I completed.

This time it only took me about three years. The difficulty wasn’t in the trails, it was with the distance… most of the trailheads are three to four hours away, and most of the hikes were overnighters. However, I’m happy to say that I did finish it, and I can’t wait to share the stories on here. And, again eerily mirroring my adventures in the Mazatzals, I can’t wait until I can bring my kids along to make new memories at familiar sites.