Hike of the Month

We stare at the pounding ice-white water, weighing gain against pain. If we manage to cross Bear Canyon Creek seven times, we'll see the most spectacular waterfall in the Sonoran Desert at explosive level.

On the other hand, we're about to get seriously wet seven times and, with the water temp barely above freezing, we'll be hiking on royal-blue feet.

We consult Noel, a bright and lovely 12 year old and the junior member of our Seven Falls assault team. Let's hit it, she says. We big guys mumble our votes: frigid water, ferocious current, frosty morn. Mmmm, no. Not today. In truth, we're not simply wimps. Tiny Noel might be tripped by the rushing water and dashed into the rapids. Hey, us, too.

The four-mile (each way) Seven Falls hike is tough to plan. It's an easy walk in late spring or autumn, Tucson's dry seasons, but then the destination is anticlimactic: little or no water in the snowand rain-fed cascade. In winter, or early spring, a few days after a heavy snow in the Santa Catalina Mountains, Seven Falls may be the most dramatic show around Tucson, but it's difficult to get to it. The trick is to find the window of opportunity.

Every day for two weeks after our failed expedition I plod the Forest Service road toward Bear Canyon (it's closed to private cars) to check Sabino Creek where it courses under (sometimes over) the road. This is a different waterway, but because it's fed by the same runoff it mirrors its sister creek. Eventually I figure it out: whenever Sabino Creek is four to six inches below the road, it's time to visit Seven Falls.

Bear Canyon Creek is lower now, the day warmer, and the water less glacial. There are helpful concrete stepping-stones across each ford, although several inches of water still flow over their tops. We bound across the first, getting soaked to the ankles. I've seen other intrepid wayfarers stop after each bounding, remove boots, and towel off. Forget it; this is one instance where staying wet makes better sense.

The third crossing offers scenery suitable for one of those Zen-inspired Japanese commercials. I plant my tripod in the creek and shoot several (noncommercial) frames of the water sweeping around acacia and sycamore trees, clutching the last blond leaves of autumn. Five is better still: here the canyon narrows, its walls steepening from a V to nearly vertical redamber rock curtains towering a thousand feet above our riparian trail. Seven is deep enough for baptisms; we roll up ourpants' legs and slog across. A young couple hiking behind us declines my advice to follow suit; they pick a precarious way across slippery boulders, fall in, and end up in a wet and giggly embrace.

Seven Falls appears suddenly around a bend, an astounding cascade that tumbles halfway down the canyon's north face. The source of the uppermost falls is beyond earshot, so it seems like the craggy mountain is belching the water from some mysterious internal source. A forest of saguaros lines the slopes overlooking the falls, bewildered sentinels observing this madness that crashes seasonally through their desert.

Lounging on a rock beside the next-to-lowest falls, we savor the water's polyphonic noises: each component has its own voice. The rapids beside us generate only an ambitious gurgle, while falls No. 4 above is coming on like the Metroliner at three-digit speeds. The effect is symphonic.

An appropriate metaphor, because the Sonoran Desert is a kind of symphony a land of vivid color, Mahlerian mood swings, and the omnipresent duality of romance and danger. We continue to bask in the sounds, unmindful of anything else. The music at Seven Falls is irresistible. Park in the Sabino Canyon lot at Sunrise Drive and Sabino Canyon Road, then walk or ride the tram ($3) 1.7 miles to the trailhead. The 2.2-mile trail is not strenuous, but carry water. Use caution when walking on the rocks near the base of the falls; they are slippery even when dry.

SANTA CATALINAS' SEVEN FALLS - THE MOST DRAMATIC OUTDOOR SHOW AROUND TUCSON WHEN YOU GO