Thursday, Feb 20th 2025, 0710-1830
Buckskin Mtns to Colorado River mm106, Section 5
18 miles.
I wasn’t quite sure what to do by the end of this day. I’d planned to get to Parker on Friday, but was once again ahead of schedule. I could easily make it to town, but since the Parker OVR motor race was taking place over the weekend, all the hotels were either booked or the prices severely jacked up. The Quality Inn had rooms for over $200 a night, which left the very lowly rated Budget Inn for $125. I’d already booked a night for that rate on Friday and didn’t want to spend any more money on a crappy room. There were no Airbnbs anywhere. So a stealth camp outside of Parker was what it was going to have to be. I’d probably have to get creative.
At least my morning was worry-free. I walked a few ancient roads through the volcanic landscape, but mostly it was cross country across the vast open areas of the high mesa. I joined a wash that would take me down into the valley over 6 miles. The wash started out somewhat flat on top the mesa, but soon descended into a huge canyon. The notes said the wash was very rocky and sandy, but I thought it was pretty great. The volcanic gravel was quite compact. I also found some easy travel along the benches for long stretches.
Nothing seemed to have passed through this land that time forgot for many ages. I saw no animals and heard no birds. I would encounter the occasional lone burro track along the benches. Periodically I would see human footprints, the remnants of some people weeks ahead of me. These only had the effect of jolting me from the present, bringing back bad memories of broken agreements and other betrayals. Every time I had to put the past out of my mind and focus on the surrealism of my situation. In the now, there was no one out here but me.
Mid morning, I came to a large wildlife trough that had 2 giant tanks of crystal clear water, filled to the brim. I unscrewed the lid off one of the tanks to dip into the lovely water. I took a short break to replenish. After, I joined a road. My notes warned about it being part of the motor race, but I saw no signs posted. The previous day, I’d briefly encountered a road that had signs everywhere, so I wondered if this section of road was still part of the race. Days later, I talked to a race official, who told me the race course was 350 miles long! I was so happy and lucky to have just missed it by one day…at least where I was walking. I was very unlucky to have arrived in town for the race weekend, with the prices all inflated and the town roaring with so many obnoxious vehicles tearing about…all the spectators also had numerous ORVs and giant rigs by which to carry them.
On the road, I only passed 1 side by side, so at least it was quiet. I broke from the road to do one last little cross country pass, taking in the views of the Colorado River basin and California, just on the other side. Then I followed more jeep trails into town. It seemed like there was no shortage of areas for driving vehicles helter skelter across the desert. Parker was like a mecca for loud things with a motor …boats, RVs, multi-wing trailers, motorcycles, and ORVs of every shape and size. The money I saw tied up in such toys was astonishing.
I was shortly walking on pavement and through odd neighborhoods. There were big houses interspersed among so many trailers. This community wasn’t part of Parker the city, but rather something called the Parker strip, with all the development spread along the Colorado river. It felt like a strange place of mostly retirees, snowbirds, and second home type places.
The route took me right past a watering hole, uniquely named The Bar, which was surprisingly busy for a Thursday afternoon. Well, really not surprising given the race weekend and the fact that most patrons were over 60 and \ or on vacation. A guy in a side by side pointed out that he’d just seen me, but miles outside of town. I recognized him as the only ORV that had passed me the whole last section. I think he might be one of only a handful that believed my story of walking from Tucson, since he’d actually seen me doing some of the walking.
I saw a sign advertising a $5 burger with fries and was sold. I know I said I gave up beef, but sometimes I just have to cave to the pressure of the almighty dollar…and to my stomach. It wasn’t one of those tiny White Castle kinds of burgers either, it was the real deal. What hiker could pass up such a gem? I went inside the Bar to wait for my food order and decided to get their special ‘Tiabomb.’ It was a mix of jack Daniels, red Bull, cranberry juice and lime. It actually tasted really good, good enough that I got a second. These were my unofficial rewards for hiking over 400 miles through the Arizona desert.
I’d now walked both the length and width of Arizona, totaling over 2000 miles hiked just in this one state. That’s certainly deserving of a few icy mixed drinks! Unfortunately, there was no one I knew with me to celebrate the feat and certainly no one in the bar that cared about such things. Without a motor involved, my miles were boring and not even really believable. So I drank my Tiabombs alone in the corner while I charged my phone and doom-scrolled. I did get a few chores done and it was a great place to escape the heat of the day.
I left around 5 pm, mindful of needing some daylight to find a good stealth spot. Luckily the development along the river wasn’t continuous and I’d spied some potential spots on the map. I left the neighborhoods to walk along quiet Bluewater road. I passed on a perfectly good wash site that would have concealed me and been quiet. I was going for broke in trying to find a site along the river…prime real estate. I entered an area that was undeveloped, but unclear whose land it was. There were some trash piles and whatnot, so it seemed abandoned.
I passed a boondocker, then spied a little entry to the river. There was the smallest flat spot tucked behind a mesquite and only feet from the river, but it seemed absolutely perfect. I managed to fit my little camo tent, which was perfectly hidden by the bushes and the nature of its own colors. Then a boat went by and I watched as the wake pushed water to within just a foot of my tent. Whew! I hoped for no more boats, as it was getting dark and oh well if there were, since I’d have a hotel the next night to dry all my stuff.
The sunset over the river was amazing and the lights from the far shore were very pretty too. It was so quiet, I could hear people talking on their decks from across the river. The cute little coots were chatting to each other and occasionally the ducks would cry out. A large rat came by to check out my tent, but left me alone. It was exactly a year prior that I was camping on the Colorado River during my Grand Canyon rafting trip. It was so good to be back on the river!
