Escudilla

Lloyd C. Irland

7/13/2009

Working draft, w. illustrations

I’m studying the maps of north central Arizona during my trip through New Mexico to Show Low.  My eye falls on a familiar name:  Escudilla.  There is now an Escudilla Wilderness, or I’d never have noticed it.  Somehow I thought it was in New Mexico.  Escudilla is familiar in a literary sense only – from Aldo Leopold’s essay of the same name.   The book was a major reason why I went into forestry school in the first place.

 After finishing the first draft of my master’s thesis at the University of Arizona, I made a motorcycle trip through the Mogollon country, along the Rim, over to Alpine, and down the New Mexico side before turning west toward the Gila valley and Safford.  This quick glance into the edge of Aldo Leopold’s New Mexico was more than 4 decades ago.  It left a permanent interest in coming back.   Now, in the area for 2 months of work in the Southwest, comes my chance. 

I had interviews in the Springerville area,  keeping me busy till after dark Friday. Saturday morning I rise at an hour most unusual for me – 5:30 – to catch the trout ponds before the sun is too high in the sky.  Had been told that  N… Reservoir was good -- but it is not an attractive spot to fish from shore,  algae bloom already well underway, and wide open in the valley floor.   Only 7:30,  it is already uncomfortably warm in the valley.

This is early in the region’s “monsoon” season when huge thunderheads build in the afternoon and intense rains refresh the dry land. The weather is to be clear today, but heavy storms rolled through last night.  The morning presents a clear blue sky.  Driving south from Springerville, cresting the pass,  you first see Escudilla,  looking a bit like the profile of a buffalo.  Not a spikey peak, a broad shouldered mountain instead.  Standing well alone, hovering over the skyline as Aldo Leopold says.   The bright green patch from the 1951 fire is distinct.

Let’s try the next option – Hurley Lake, out along the Escudilla road, recommended by a friend.  You turn onto Forest road 56 to the East, rising quickly into the ponderosa pines.  In 2 miles, the turnoff to the pond.  I’m too late – one car is already there.    Like many  “lakes” in this area, this is a tiny impoundment.  The pond looks a bit green from the parking lot.  I walk down and set down the rod and tackle bag.   First few casts snag on weeds.  A few more people appear, start their fishing.  Two fishermen occupy the spot I had been eying on the dam.  They begin setting up folding chairs – worm fishermen – not a good sign.  I work my way around,  changing lures,  finally find a spot with no weeds and work it hard with several lures.  One strike – or was it?  Moving further around, I meet a fellow who holds up 2 small ones on his stringer.  They look pretty pale for mountain trout.

I had not expected much, this time of year.  The streams with water and trout are far down back roads to the West,   will have to try those another time;  my car is not suited to gravel and I don’t know the roads. 

 

Escudilla calls. 

This was to be a fishing day.  But the sun is higher in the sky, and I’m out of leads.  The profile of that mountain looming in the clear  sky, the many times I’ve read and re-read  -- and read to others – Leopold’s essay.  

In another 3 miles, here is the Terry Flat trailhead, a little wood signboard where you sign in (later, I would forget to sign out – typical). 

Grabbing a fannie pack and water bottles, my boonie hat and camera, I’m now on Escudilla.  This will not be much of a mountain climb – trailhead is at 9500 feet. 

The first mile is in dense aspen,  regen from the 1951 fire.  Spruce and fir coming into the understory in patches here and there.    Just beyond a mile in, the forest opens up into wide, sloping grassy barrens.  The view does too, expansive all the way from Northwest to the south.  Vistas of distant peaks.   Out come the camera and the water bottle.  The first one is now empty, gets crushed and set into the fannie pack.   I catch up with several hikers.  They had seen the reference to Sand County Almanac on the poster at the trailhead,  I urge them to read it.   I’m pushing myself because this is jogging day, and also the sky is beginning to sport a few small cumulus clouds --  based on what I’ve watched in previous days I worry they could get bigger fast.

Through a few more patches of woods and large balds,  the trail becomes less steep through woods of tall Engelmann spruce and doug fir.   Then, unexpectedly,  I top out on a short steep stretch and there it is – the Escudilla Lookout tower.   We live at about 285 ft above sea level, so my lungs and legs are protesting at this point.

The Towerman is of retirement age, and his work of the day has not yet begun.  He says he is the “highest paid man in Arizona” – at 10,800 feet on Arizona’s third highest peak.  He points out another bald where he saw 27 elk earlier in the week.   He says his work will get busy in a short while.  No smokes yet, but last night’s storm is sure to have left  some behind that will pop up for him to watch by mid –day or so.  He is of near-retirement age, about my age actually and says it is kind of amazing that they pay him to do this – he is here on five day stretches but has gone as long as 12 when relief could not be found.  He makes it up from the roadhead comfortably in an hour and 15 minutes.

The true summit is half a mile to the northeast, along a rocky and ill-maintained track.   On a sheet in a can, you can sign in to prove you were there.  But there is no view from the summit, as timberline is well above 10,800 here at Escudilla (what I’m used to is below 5000 ft on Katahdin or Sugarloaf).  Without this tower, the peak would offer few scenic vistas.

It’s windy and a bit chilly on the tower, and the high clouds are building up,  almost to a “partly cloudy” level.  They do not look like rain, but I foolishly brought no raingear and wish to take no chances.   An easy ramble back down the trail brings me across the same meadows and to the same views to the hazy horizon.  A couple coming up asks me “how far”, and not being good on distances I’m not very helpful.  In the dry air my water is about gone by the time I reach the car.  I then take a drive around the Terry Flat loop, hoping to find Terry Lake, another small trout pond, but it’s not on my map and I manage to miss it.  No trout today.

After a brief side trip to Luna, New Mexico, I return to Show Low.  Mercifully, on the way back the sky fills enough with high clouds that the temperatures drop nicely.

Later I buy an extra copy of Sand County Almanac to re-read Escudilla. 

So, what was set to become a poor day of trout fishing instead became a rich day of rekindled memories and associations with the literary and conservation legacy of one of my personal heroes – Aldo Leopold.

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PS: I won’t quote the essay here –  I hope you’ll get the book and read it…

 Below: More photos

Nutrioso post office,  village near Escudilla

Aspen,  1951 burn.

View along trail.

Terry Flat, looking toward Escudilla

In the distance, Leopold’s “honey-colored plains”.

Trailside view to SW

Large Engelmann spruce near tower

New understory beneath the aspen.