Hike of the Month

HIKE OF THE MONTH The Old Town of Jerome Litters the Slopes below Woodchute Mountain

In Woodchute Mountain, rotting tree stumps cluster about me like cheap headstones. Jagged ax and long-tooth saw marks explain their fate.

On this chilly morning, I'm hiking Woodchute Trail No. 102 along its tortuous passage from the northern edge of Mingus Mountain to the top of Woodchute. The first mile enticed me, offering leaf-padded walking along mountainside lanes through thick ponderosa pines and lush undergrowth, overlooking State Route 89A and the Verde Valley miles to the east.

Then at a dry creek crossing, the mountain let me know who was boss. My ascent of its southern slope took me through scrub oak, alligator juniper, and an altitude gain of 600 feet in less than one mile. If I had been in a hurry, I'd have been gasping. Instead I made my way steadily, stopping occasionally to take photos of the vast open plains that unfolded to the west through arms of the mountain.

Three miles into my sevenmile journey, I wander off the narrow single-rut trail among old stumps sharing space with the bright green of new-growth pines and young oaks on the mountain's squared-off top. Tawny knee-high grass hides stones lying in wait for twistable ankles. After a few hundred yards of careful ambling, I reach the eastern face of the mountain, where the land drops away abruptly, reaching to the old copper mining town of Jerome clinging to the slopes of Cleopatra Hill far below. The distant strung-out towns of Clarkdale and Cottonwood seem to sit almost at the feet of Oak Creek Canyon's red rock battlements.

This is time to sit, let the jays and the spiraling hawks entertain me, and laze my binoculars through time and distance. The brilliant white bulbous dome of Lowell Observatory at Flagstaff leaps into view near the San Francisco Peaks.

Twisting left, I pick up the balding top of Bill Williams Mountain. Closer in, misty ranch buildings sprawl among giant cottonwoods along the Verde River.

A hundred years ago, mining companies in Jerome, the copper giant of the world for a decade or so, scavenged the land here for wood. They needed timber to shore up their diggings and fuel for their smelter. They built a chute on the east face of the mountain. Down it they slid hastily felled logs to where wagons and mule teams waited.

The forests behind me are recovering from Jerome's heyday. The stumps of the 1800s become food for seedlings.

I pick up the trail again and continue north, which means down, precipitously down, 2,200 feet on rocky switchback trails, hooking alongside ridges and canyons in brooding shadow for four more miles. Trees give way to low brush. My steps are uneven, shifting, to avoid dark volcanic rocks tumbled onto the path. Almost imperceptibly, the dirt and rock-studded trail becomes solid gray limestone. Following the route would be impossible but for small rock cairns marking the way. First cow patties, then cows, signal my arrival at trail's end, and the flattest terrain I've seen for hours.

Half a mile up and behind me, Woodchute Mountain remains, bathed in sunset.

WHEN YOU GO

A vehicle shuttle between the north and south trailheads is advised. To reach Woodchute Mountain's No. 102 trailhead from the south (by far the easiest hiking), take State Route 89A 7.8 miles southwest from Jerome. Turn north, right, onto Forest Service Road 106 (north across State 89A from Potato Patch Campground turnoff). Continue right on FR 106 through a green metal gate (close after passage) for about three-fourths of a mile to the trailhead and parking lot. This hike is rated "moderate" in difficulty. There is no water on the trail, so carry at least a gallon per person. There may still be snow on the ground up to April, and weather conditions can change quickly, making roads impassable and the dangers from lightning high. For current maps and trail and weather conditions, contact the Verde Ranger District, P.O. Box 670, Camp Verde, AZ 86322-0670; (520) 567-4121.