More From Limestone Canyon

I’ve written about Limestone Canyon and Forest Service road 573 before, and how it’s my “default” riding area on those days when I don’t get out of bed early enough to go elsewhere…but there are days when I choose it regardless.

The road starts just north of Paulden, AZ, heading west from highway 89, just a bit south of the soon-to-be-replaced Hells Canyon Bridge. It was one of the 1st off-roading trips I took in the area after moving here to Chino Valley, and the feeling I got from it was one of isolation and remoteness. Interesting, since the lower area was home to a small community in the early 20th century. According to late 1800’s maps, there was also an “old fort” in the area as well…but again, the few efforts I know of to find it (including my own ) have turned up little. And as I mentioned in my linked post, most of the 1st several miles were home to the original alignment of the Santa Fe, Prescott, and Phoenix Railroad and its tumultuous route off of Big Black Mesa. A lot of “stuff” for such a lonely feeling place. Only the old ROW for the train, a decaying charcoal kiln, and probably some graves remain.

Once 573 reaches the top of Limestone canyon, it follows the top of Big Black Mesa for several miles, offering a great view with slightly cooler temps, and a nice remote experience without being too far from the world. The old rail line leaves sooner, but remains just a short ride to the east on a few of the side roads. Our primary goal was to be in the back-country, but the secondary goal was to hike a railroad cut on the northern end. Turns out it would take a couple of tries.

The first attempt was under the neighborhood of a 70% chance of monsoon rains and a flash flood alert, but the weather people out here are worse than average, so it was no surprise when we needed sunblock at the staging area.

Weather wasn't too bad when we started.

After winding our way past miles of juniper and rock peeking out from above, we took a side trip to one of the many earth water catchments called Upper Limestone tank. Standing guard is an old corral that may not be up to the task these days...along with a few other relics.

The old corral 

I’m always fascinated by such artifacts, and often wonder just how long they have been around. I can’t help but wonder if the hands involved are still with us…and if they enjoyed what they were doing as much as I think I might have, had my “job” involved such a workplace. Cattle stomp around in the very low water, the level of which surprises me. This tank has always been full enough to qualify as a small pond, and we have had decent rain in the past several months since I’ve been here. And we are about to get more.

By the time we move on the clouds have moved in, and we are definitely a go for rain in the next few hours, but we were prepared. Sorta.

By the time we turn east on FS601 and stop near the cut, the lightning is flashing in the distance, and the tell-tell ghostly stains of rain are streaming from cloud to earth. As I mentioned above, 573 this far north is at the top of a long mesa, with little ground higher than the road itself, so it’s not the place to be during a lightning storm. Thankfully, our parking spot is a low lying area with trees for protection ( and alternate targeting for any bolts from heaven ).  Just as I grab my gear to step out for the hike, the clouds let go into a slow, steady rain. So we parked under a group of thick Junipers, put on our $1 “emergency ponchos” ( about like a cheap garbage bag with a hood), and opened up the liquid refreshment to wait it out. And waited. And waited.

You can't tell from the pic, but as we stopped for a hike, the rain started to come down.

Stuff like this normally doesn’t last in the desert…but this, as it turned out, was the remains of a tropical storm from the Gulf of Mexico, and it wasn’t letting up anytime soon. Being in a SxS meant that we were mostly shielded from the rain, as was our gear, but some still sneaks in from the sides and front, and we were slowly getting soaked below our protective gear. Heading back meant that we would REALLY get it from the front with no windshield, but to delay any longer would have just brought us closer to getting really cold, so we made for the trailer. What followed was 45 minutes of the most fun trail riding I’ve had for some time…

Rain in the desert is a special event. Even though it’s not very rare, being out in the back-country to see it is. As we climbed back up to 573, the rain was pouring, and while the lightning was flashing in the distance, it was far enough away to be of little concern. In the slow climb over this rocky side road, I slowly watched the desert transform from dusty red soil to sloppy flying mud, with the earth all the while exhaling with relief. Dry washes and gullies I had ridden by hundreds of times were now flowing with runoff, and I couldn’t help but stop and examine a few. What the hell? I was already wet…

I’m sure many of the huge jack-rabbits in the area were hunkered down under Juniper or Manzanita wondering what these 2 fools were doing splashing through the rain, and the mist from the rain itself hitting us in the face and running off the Pioneer's top ( right in our laps…thank you Mr. top engineer! ) was exhilarating to say the least. Too much so, as the storm has dropped the temperature enough to be a bit chilly. A little cold, but quite an entertaining ride for those next few miles to the waiting trailer, cutting the ride short at around 4 o’clock. I normally don’t pack it in until well after dark, and had we the proper rain gear, we might have stayed out there until wife-pissed thirty.
About the only regret was that the rain put the kibosh on much in the way of photos…and I can’t believe I didn’t think of the GoPro's water-proof case, but mounting it to get anything other than a wet lens would have been difficult. Still, a memorable moment provided by Mother Nature for reasons many people would never understand.

What is it about such a simple event that makes it so memorable? Why does something my wife considers me crazy to enjoy cause two grown men to giggle like kids and have a blast? Why is it that despite being soaking wet and cold, we both absolutely hated to leave?
My theory is because the added elements outside the comfort zone change it from being a fairly normal event into an adventure…in a Walter Mitty sorta way. I love to get out and trail ride, and do so almost every weekend, but adding some lightning and a downpour transformed it into something truly memorable even though we were in no real danger. Yet the personal legend grows with each one of these, and another story to tell the kids hits the books.

My advice for you is the next time you are thinking about trail riding, and you look out the window and see those clouds…and wonder if you should? Go for it anyway. Worst you can do is get wet and cold. The best you can do is to have a blast.

Coming soon: Attempt number two!

DISCLAIMER: It is possible my wife is right, I am crazy, and you shouldn’t ride in adverse weather conditions.