Fossil Creek Part — 1
I just couldn’t understand why he wasn’t responding. My only solution was to go back to sleep and try again later. It must have been 6AM when I started waking up. It wasn’t till seven that I stood up and set in my mind that I was staying awake. When I asked him this time he responded to all my questions. It turns out that before, what I thought was an elegantly worded question manifested itself as incoherent mumbling to someone still asleep. Still hours before we needed to leave, I ate some leftover pizza and watched YouTube videos.
In his small room, perfectly designed for one person, we had crammed five. It was a flop house right now — a place to sleep and nothing more. That was all the room you had. The other three started to wake. Stretches and grumblings were heard. Everyone started to dress and prepare for the day. On this Thursday the plan was to drive out to an abandoned power plant, then hike one mile to a natural hot spring. That was the plan.
After planning what to dress in and what to bring, we set off in the car toward Jerome. My dress was simple: shorts and shirt. I made the choice to bring my backpack with me. That seemed like a good idea at the time. We stopped to get fuel soon after leaving. The gas stations here have post offices in them and they sell just about anything you could ever want. I saw a roll of toilet paper and bought it. You never know what you will need in the middle of nowhere.
To get to Jerome you must go up a mountain road. The town is on the other side of the mountain, exactly where you wouldn’t expect it. It’s a town built on the side of the mountain. It was a copper mine at one time; the town grew organically around it. To this day it seems like a run-down place, existing only because of its location. We ate at a nice place that exists only because of its location. It must be odd to exist only because of your location.
After eating I wanted to go look in a store where they sell interesting rocks. As you walk in there’s a sign proclaiming: “No Photos.” The more you look around, the more matching signs you will find. If you know anything about Asa, it’s that he’s a compulsive recorder of memories. I have a theory that it’s part of his hoarding tendencies, but I love having lots of photos of memories, so it is a welcome compulsion. I waited with my back turned expecting to hear “Please don’t take any photos.” What I heard was different.
A quick shuffling of a middle-aged, overweight woman and the shout “Can’t you read the signs? This is a private place! I don’t go into your home and take photos!” She was visibly insane. If you ever find yourself in Jerome, do me a favor and don’t give
AzDiscoveries
any business. Kevin, of course, rebuked her for the way she reacted and we swiftly left. After leaving that town we only stopped once more for some last-minute supplies.
Once we got to the dirt road, I knew it would only be twenty miles in. On a paved road it would have taken twenty-five minutes tops. On this unmaintained, unpaved road it took close to an hour. An hour of the bumpiest, rockiest driving I’ve ever been subjected to. It felt like miniature mules were kicking you over and over for an hour.
Quickly I knew that the whole gang wanted to turn back. No one wants to be that person; we gritted our teeth and headed forward. With every passing second my brain was telling me how every inch forward was an inch we would have to come back. I suppressed those thoughts as best I could. The view was incredible. Raw, untouched, jagged land, marred only by randomly placed power lines and drainage pipes. A palpable feeling took hold of us; we knew we were going somewhere not many had gone.
Over the day we met at least thirty different people. Whether passing them on the road or hiking alongside them. It was more than I had expected to see this far into the wilderness. The last few feet of the road were the worst, but we made it. Asa parked the car and everyone loaded up their gear and started down the trail.
The book that told us about this hike said it was an easy one.