Mt. Humphreys

Twigs snap, roots of large beastly trees reach out of the earth and exotic, illusive blue-green mountains disappear. Entering the Mt. Humphreys trail is like closing the door on reality. Check that. Its like slamming the door, locking the knob and flicking the dead bolt. You'll never see more than a few yards of the winding dirt path. At times its a mirage, jumping up levels, snaking around boulders and crouching behind fluorescent grass that may possibly be juiced on steroids. Its hard to tell in a place so surreal, yet so natural, exactly what this place has been doing for the last few thousand years. But one thing is definite. The path always stretches on, materializing here, immaterializing their. On and on for three to four hours up and a couple down. Down is shorter. Maybe its the rubbery legs, dreams of crammed subway subs or dreams of long naps, I don't know. But its definitely shorter. Up takes forever. Through the dense forest, the not so dense forest, the awesome views. The last fragment of rocky terrain reminiscent of lower altitudes leads to the highest peak in Arizona. The whole enchilada, you can almost taste it. But it will cost you. All day.