Rogers Canyon Family Overnight

The winter and spring of 2022 had been quite busy for both the kids and me. Their little legs were taxed heavily on difficult hikes in the Superstition Wilderness, including the Miner’s Needle Loop, Black Mesa, and most recently, Flatiron. On my side, I had knocked out some grand hikes in the Grand Canyon, culminating with a day hike on the Escalante Route. That, coupled with a recent job change, leaving Shutterstock behind for a more chaotic, exciting, and stressful venture into the world of web3 startups, had left all of us a bit frazzled. We needed a break from the chaos, an easy outing over the weekend, and I called up a reliable helper to manage the herd.

My dad met us near the Hewitt Station Staging Area, just off the 60, in his old red pickup. I offered to drive him, like I had on the phone where we had discussed this trip, and he politely refused - after all, two vehicles are better than one out in the backcountry. We headed out, driving past Millsite Canyon, Byous Butte, and Woodbury, all familiar sights, and then started the long climb up to Rogers Trough Trailhead. While I had concerns about his old truck making the drive he made it just fine. It was only a few months ago that I had to give him a jump at Picketpost after a short hike along Arnett Creek, and I had my cords easily accessible, plus a few extra items in case the rusty old thing needed it. Together we parked at the trailhead, the only two vehicles at the remote site, and I joked that we could always roll-start the thing on the way out.

The first few miles of trail were well-maintained, part of the Arizona Trail, though that peeled off towards Reavis Ranch while our trail, Rogers Trough, continued down the oddly straight canyon. We crossed that canyon and a small trickle of water at its bottom a few times. The boys and I were carrying packs, me hefting most of our gear, while Charlotte only had some water and snacks in hers. I wasn’t about to weigh down the five-year-old with a heavy pack. Charlotte and Grandpa had a fun time bringing up the rear, little chats about flowers and insects, while the boys and I forged ahead, looking for a good spot to camp before it got too dark.

About three miles from the trailhead there was a large clearing under a wide crown of a tree, with a small campfire ring nearby. Perfect. I was trying a new shelter for the kids, sheer mosquito nets without any sort of frame, and having the branches stretching six / seven feet above made for perfect hanging options. They weren’t a fan of the no-wall shelters, but I was the one carrying most of their gear, so they didn’t get a choice on this one. Grandpa set up his tent, discovering that he had forgotten a sleeping pad, while I set the kids up, and I tasked the kids with collecting firewood. They dallied and played, procrastinating in this task, so when night fell we sat around the empty fire ring, eating a meager dinner by lantern light before going to bed early.

It didn’t get too cold that night, plus the kids had new down sleeping bags, so we all had good sleep that night. Except for Grandpa, anyways. I had offered my pad and he refused characteristically, so I tried not to feel too bad when he struggled to get up and moving with the morning’s light.

Breaking camp and making morning foods took up a lot of time. Our destination today was another mile-and-a-half down the canyon, a relatively short distance with some elevation loss and overgrowth to deal with, so we had daypacks to pack separately and gear to sort out. It took us a few hours before we had everything stowed away off the main trail, semi-hidden, and boots on the trail again.

The trail was a bit frustrating to follow as the canyon continued, both the walls and creek steepening as we continued along. There were huge boulders to navigate around, some spiky growth to push through, and it was slow going in the warming day. It didn’t help to think that every yard we traveled would have to be re-walked on the way out. I debated turning around a few times, and even had a few side conversations with my dad about it, although he was “good for just about anything”, even as I saw him nursing his back after the rough night of sleep.

We reached the ruins near Angel Basin by mid-morning, and Noah and I scrambled up the steep rock outside to check it out while my dad stayed with the other two near the shaded creek. This thing was pretty darn cool. It’s not the most remote ruin we’ve been to - some of those ruins in the Sierra Ancha are far more difficult to reach, and there’s one near the top of Rough Canyon that is even less known - yet it’s still pretty protected and secluded and in good shape. Noah was all grins as we carefully poked around the different rooms, talking about how life must have been for the ancient, bygone inhabitants.

We reconvened, had our snacks, and headed back up the trail, the now-warm morning sun bearing down on us. At least our packs were light for a while. When we reached our campsite it was time for a lunch break, and I tasked my dad with that while I filtered a few liters of water from the nearby stream to get us out. Man, it was really nice to have him out here, both for the company and for the extra help.

The afternoon hike out did drag, going uphill back to the car, even when the trail improved beyond the Reavis Ranch junction. There’s just something tough about an uphill ending, especially with overnight gear on your back and a slow, kid-friendly pace. By the time we reached the end I was really looking forward to an air-conditioned drive home. My dad’s truck started without issue, and he led the way out, waving good-bye at us at the Hewitt Station site. We made it home by the mid-afternoon, tired but not exhausted, a nice reprieve from the more ridiculous adventures as of late, with plenty of memories and photos of our weekend in the eastern Superstitions.