The drive to the South Fork Trail was more scenic than the drive to Greer: rock outcroppings danging over cliffs, distant ponds sparkling in the sun, horses grazing in the valley below and dry prairie grass swaying in the wind, distant mesas protuding from the high plains. I could have been in Wyoming if I hadn't known any better.
I made it to the South Fork Trail by 11:50am. The red flag was waving again, representing another day of winds and gusts. At the trailhead the Forest Service had posted a warning about pesticides in the creek that were targeted at non-native trout in the creek. Trees along the creek were banned with red tape.
The dogs and I didn't care too much, as we started off our hike for an hour out. I did not intend to hike further than the river crossing three miles away.
Gordon was right: this is a scenic, easy hike along the Little Colorado River, which starts at the Mexian Hay Lake and flows southwesterly. I was hiking upstream. Here the creek is no wider than a creek, and shallow enough to ford over rocks strategically placed along the water. The dogs could take water breaks to their own liking.
The creek was heavily overgrown with new growth of aspen and firs. Swallowtail butterflies fluttered about. Rocky Mountain Iris bloomed along the trail. The only other hiker I met was an elderly man with a distinctive German accent and a gap between his upper front teeth.
I took a few breaks for the dogs, and when I came to a cattle gate and noticed the trail ascend I turned around. If this was the three-mile river crossing then it didn't seem three miles; we had reached this point in under an hour. I WAS hiking at a steady pace but with the breaks I took for the dogs don't think the trail was truly three miles to the river crossing.
My hike for the day done and the dogs surely grateful for that, I decided to drive back toward Greer to find the forest road I noticed earlier that led to Big Lake. How nice, I thought, to drive back toward the lake via a shady forest road, perhaps ctching some wildlife along the way. But much to my disappointment the road was closed due to road construction. I had no choice to backtrack, something I normally hate doing as life is a one-way street ("that ends in a dead-end" as my dad would always say).
I made it to the South Fork Trail by 11:50am. The red flag was waving again, representing another day of winds and gusts. At the trailhead the Forest Service had posted a warning about pesticides in the creek that were targeted at non-native trout in the creek. Trees along the creek were banned with red tape.
The dogs and I didn't care too much, as we started off our hike for an hour out. I did not intend to hike further than the river crossing three miles away.
Gordon was right: this is a scenic, easy hike along the Little Colorado River, which starts at the Mexian Hay Lake and flows southwesterly. I was hiking upstream. Here the creek is no wider than a creek, and shallow enough to ford over rocks strategically placed along the water. The dogs could take water breaks to their own liking.
The creek was heavily overgrown with new growth of aspen and firs. Swallowtail butterflies fluttered about. Rocky Mountain Iris bloomed along the trail. The only other hiker I met was an elderly man with a distinctive German accent and a gap between his upper front teeth.
I took a few breaks for the dogs, and when I came to a cattle gate and noticed the trail ascend I turned around. If this was the three-mile river crossing then it didn't seem three miles; we had reached this point in under an hour. I WAS hiking at a steady pace but with the breaks I took for the dogs don't think the trail was truly three miles to the river crossing.
My hike for the day done and the dogs surely grateful for that, I decided to drive back toward Greer to find the forest road I noticed earlier that led to Big Lake. How nice, I thought, to drive back toward the lake via a shady forest road, perhaps ctching some wildlife along the way. But much to my disappointment the road was closed due to road construction. I had no choice to backtrack, something I normally hate doing as life is a one-way street ("that ends in a dead-end" as my dad would always say).
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