SUMMARY: We thought we’d be having a Gila River Trail adventure today, but we made a huge mistake and ended up going up the Sapillo Creek canyon instead.  It’s way prettier than the Gila River canyon, but it led us deeper and deeper into the wilderness–the canyon got so narrow we had to wade it in (for me) shoulder-deep water.  We finally got to the point where there was NO way to go on, realized what we had done (groan!) and retraced our steps all the way back till we reached actual Gila River.  The “trail” turned out to be very hard to find–we did lots of bushwhacking and river crossings–some were a wee bit scary.  We are camped in the canyon tonight.  Glad to be safe!

DETAILS:  We were really excited at the thought we’d be having a Gila River Trail adventure today, as we headed down into the river canyon.  The views of the canyon and the anticipation of  such a famous part of the CDT  kept me going even though the last bit down  was rough, rocky and slow.

At the bottom, we charged straight ahead to what we THOUGHT was the Gila River (it looked just like all the pictures of the Gila we’d seen on hiker blogs) and stopped for breakfast plus a good washing up of our rather dirty hands, feet and faces.  We AquaMira’ed water as well.  What we didn’t realize was this was NOT the Gila.  It was Sapillo Creek.  Had we checked our compass and maps we would have seen that the Gila runs north, but the creek runs east.  Our map showed that we should turn RIGHT at the Gila, so blissfully ignorant, we turned right (to the east, if we’d looked at our compass) thinking, “OK!  We should maybe make it to Doc Campbell’s today!” and started walking along a very nice trail through a lovely canyon into what turned out to be an unbelievable adventure, but also the loss of over half a day of CDT route hiking.

The Sapillo Creek canyon really is beautiful. The cliffs are impressive, and there were huge sycamore trees, pine trees and oaks, draped with wild grapevines loaded with baby grape clusters.  After awhile we came to a large cave in the canyon wall, where people had obviously had a lot of fun camping–there were fireplaces in the walls, shelves and even cooking equipment.  Shortly after that, we crossed the “Gila” on a log, and the trail continued very clearly and nicely on the other side.

But not for long.  Suddenly the trail just disappeared.  No problem, we expected that–we’d heard so many stories about how the Gila River trail had been trashed by a big flood a couple of years ago, and the hikers were all complaining about having to do a lot of bushwhacking.  So with only a bit of grumping, we kept on going and going and going.  But the canyon walls were getting closer and closer together, and finally we reached a point where the only way through was to wade.  Beyond that narrow point, the canyon widened again.  “Hmmm,” I thought.  “I don’t remember any hiker blogs talking about this.  Weird.”  Just after that, again the canyon narrowed, and again we began to wade.  But this time the water was getting deeper and deeper.  I took off my fanny pack that was around my waist and hung it around my neck to keep it dry.  Soon the water was at the bottom of my backpack and obviously getting deeper.  I stopped.  Fixit went ahead, and it was chest deep on him, but he made it.  He took off his pack, laid it on the shore, and came back to help me.  He took my pack, and I followed along, clinging as best I could to the vertical wall of the canyon, in water that was shoulder deep on me.  Fortunately, there was no current to deal with!

By now both of us were saying, “This is CRAZY!  How can they expect hikers to cope with this??”  We were both completely soaking wet, cold and shivering, and some of our gear was wet, too.  So we headed for a patch of sun (ahh did it feel good!), took off our wet clothes and spread out all the wet gear to dry while we talked about what to do.  We looked up at the canyon walls for some way to climb out, but there was nothing.  So our conclusion was “Keep going and see what we can find.”  So on we went, but after a bit, the canyon narrowed again, the creek became very deep, and looking ahead we could see that it narrowed to just a slender crack.  Fixit said, “I’ll take off my pack and have a look.”  So while he bravely waded on into that deep, cold water, I sat on the bank and prayed like crazy.  “Help, Lord!  Please keep him safe…please show us what to do.”

Suddenly I had a thought:  “Yes, this IS crazy.  This CAN’T be the CDT.”  So I got out the map and looked at it again.  That’s when (duh!) I noticed that we should be going NORTH.  One look at the sun and the shadows, and I knew we were going EAST.  Just then Fixit came back, shivering and dripping, to tell me the narrow crack was impassable.  I told him what I’d just realized, and that we’d have to go all the way back to find the CDT again.  We both groaned.  The thought of redoing what we’d just been through was seriously awful.  So again we looked up at the cliffs–were they climbable?  Maybe….so we put our packs back on and made an attempt.  Nope.  The ascent would be too technical (well, for me, anyway–I’m sure Fixit could have made it!) So we turned around and started back.

When we reached the deep water passage, Fixit went first–he took off his pack and carried it resting on his head and shoulders so it would not get wet.  Then he came back and did the same with my pack.  Meanwhile, I crept along in the shoulder deep cold water, clinging desperately to the canyon wall.  I guess I could have said, “Oh whatever, I’ll just swim” but I didn’t.  I was trying to keep my wristwatch dry.  (Fixit’s watch had gotten wet and was already starting to have problems that continued all the way to Canada)

It was a very sad journey back down the canyon.  I kept thinking, “How could I be so stupid?  I should have checked at least the compass!”  and blamed myself for being so careless.  At the same time, I was also thinking, “God, I am so grateful to You for your patience with us and for keeping us safe.”  Finally, after lunch,  we got back to where we had started, and found the REAL Gila River!  Hooray!  It was heading north!   But we couldn’t find the TRAIL.  Grrrrr.  After some bushwhacking and hunting about, we finally located it.  Turned out that we still had plenty of bushwhacking to do–yes, the trail still was messed over by the big flood–but at least there were some rock cairns occasionally to let us know we were on track.  And of course, there were LOTS of crossings of the river as it wove back and forth across the canyon.   Some of the crossings were borderline scary, with enough strong current to make my trek poles vibrate.The pattern went something like this: Search for trail, bushwhack a bit, find trail, cross river, lose trail, repeat,  over and over again.

The Gila River canyon is pretty, and wider than the Sapillo Creek canyon, but I would say Sapillo Creek is the prettiest by far.  I tried very hard to enjoy the beauty, but I was mega frustrated by so much lost time, and very unhappy about constantly losing the trail.  “Embrace the Brutality” says the CDT motto.  I’m not embracing any of this, no way!  But we found a very nice campsite for tonight, on soft, comfortable duff, and hung all our wet clothes up to dry.  Doc Campbell’s famous ice cream tomorrow!