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Five wild burros watch me from hiding 125 yards away, ears alert to my approach. I study them through a spotting scope, until they bolt over a ridge and become lost in an infinity of desert.

The burros are unexpected. I find them 40 miles northeast of Phoenix in the Four Peaks Wilderness. In 15 years of hiking the area, I have not seen one there before.

Eighteen burros hide in the 58,000-acre, federally protected Wilderness, I learn. "You were lucky to see them," says Forest Service Game Manager Russell Orr. "They're really hard to find even when we look with helicopters."

WHEN YOU GO

Visible from much of central Arizona, the Four Peaks rise like granite fangs above a forest of lodgepole pine, juniper, and manzanita. It is a place where I have come to expect surprises.

Take State Route 87 from Phoenix to the Four Peaks Road, Forest Service Route 143, an 18mile gravel track that's rough in places. Or, take State 188 to Punkin Center, turn onto FR 422, a smoother but much longer route. The two forest-service roads meet at the signed turnoff to Lone Pine Saddle Trailhead and parking area. Pack plenty of water, especially in summer. Some springs are undependable, and all require purification treatment. Trails close to the trailhead are maintained but become steep and rough farther out.

Black bears, wildcats, and white-tailed deer live in the craggy heights. Wildflowers and songbirds provide color. In winter, snow falls deeply. My greatest surprise, however, is that, even though close to a big city, the trails are uncrowded.

I feel giddy as I climb a chute to the 7,645-foot summit. The way is safe enough, but a fear of height nearly scares me off. I force myself higher, then find I'm a late

BURROS, FLOWERS, AND BLACK BEARS ENERGIZE THE TREK TO FOUR PEAKS

arrival. "Chas. Messinger" chiseled his name at the top in 1907.

Decades earlier, in the late 1860s and early '70s, the Four Peaks gazed out upon the many battles between Apache Indians and soldiers dispatched from nearby Fort McDowell. In 1866 troopers from the fort ranged the peaks blazing new trails, traveling by the light of the full moon perhaps to avoid the Apache who preferred to face their enemies in the daytime.

The years between then and now brought changes to the land. Roads lead up the mountain and reach into the distant Sierra Ancha and Mazatzal ranges which march north toward the Mogollon Rim. Formidable desert sprawls southward, but 2 million people live there now. I find myself wondering if Messinger worked on the dams that fill the Salt River gorge nearby to Phoenix, making change possible.

On a breezy ridge, from a backpacker's hammock strung between two pines, I glide gently between thoughts, reluctant to move on. But, before long, the landscape and the possibilities put an end to my dallying. I set off to explore.I soon come to a sign that points the way toward the Amethyst Trail, whose evocative name was inspired by the bluish violet crystallized quartz found hereabouts.There is an Amethyst mine in the area, but it's on private property.

Suddenly I spy a real treasure: clusters of elderberries, ripe for picking. I fill a day pack and, later, preserve the day's adventure by cooking the berries into delicious amethyst-colored jelly.

Friends back in Phoenix ask where I got the jelly. I reply, "Four Peaks... practically in your backyard."