Hiking Central Arizona (Kiefer) describes the trail as being 2.2 miles long, climbing 1300 feet (6400 to 7700 feet) to the top of the Mogollon Rim from a trailhead behind the last building of the fish hatchery at Tonto Creek.  However, this information appears to be outdated, as we found a new trailhead barely 20 feet past the sign at the entrance to the hatchery.  A sign at this trailhead indicated a distance of 3 miles to Rim Road (300), which is some distance past the 2.2 mile mark measured from the old trailhead.  I estimate, therefore, a trail length from the new trailhead of about 2.5 miles, though it seemed barely 2 miles to me.  This must be what they mean by "your milage may vary". 

Anyway, this time I at least remembered my faithful, reasonably-well-broken-in hiking boots, the ones I left sitting in my garage with two fresh coats of silicone when I went to Mt. Whitney.  The comfortable looseness of their fit has caused me to revise my estimate for the ones I wore at Whitney from a half-size too small to a full size too small! 

We hit the trail at 7:45 am.  There was only one other car in the lot when he arrived.  The trail winds up the Rim through the eastern edge of the vast region devastated eight years ago in the Dude Fire, which consumed a 21-mile stretch of Rim forest.  The lower part of the trail meanders under moderate tree cover through almost waist-high grass.  The trail is almost invisible at times through the grass, but still easy to follow if you lead with your stick—advisable anyway in tall grass.  The grass is very soft, too, and feels cool and comfortable on your legs on a warm day like this one.  Watch out for small log steps hidden under the grass. 

The grass becomes more occasional and less dense after the first half mile, as you enter the fire zone and the trail becomes a somewhat steeper walk through rock and sun-baked soil.  Innumerable lifeless, often coal-black hulks of trees still stand in various states of intactness, plus many more rotting on the ground, bearing testimony to the total immolation that occurred here in 1990.  Nonetheless recovery is well under way, with Manzanita growing like wildfire everywhere, and Oak saplings and Hackberry coming back strong as well.  There were a few junipers scattered here and there, apparently recovering much more slowly than the others, and I don't recall seeing any pines coming up at all. 

With so little shade and temps rising into the mid-eighties, it got pretty warm on the Eastward-facing slope which the trail climbs in lazy switchbacks, but compared to a long Phoenix Summer, it was quite bearable.  The trail is a bit indistinct for much of its length, but still easy to follow, and marked every so often by sometimes ridiculously large cairns.  It gets more rocky as you climb, passing through several bands of sedimentary rock along the way.  The footing is a bit loose in places, but John did it in ordinary sneakers and had no trouble at all. 

The views are excellent almost the whole way due to the lack of tree cover; there are several good views looking down on the fish hatchery.  Rolling hills can be seen for 30 miles or more to the South, with the Rim looming a thousand feet high to the North and East.  The rising sun added to the effect, casting ever-changing shadows into the steep fissures and ragged alcoves of the Rim's crumbly sedimentary slopes. 

After a little over an hour, we were getting close to the top.  About 200 feet below the Rim we ran across a rattlesnake curled up in a little cubbyhole between three rocks on the uphill side of the trail.  Remembering Jim Johnson's presentation of hiking safety and medical practices from the August MHC meeting, we backed up and skirted around his location about a foot outside the trail, as far as we could get without plunging down the steep slope into the valley below.  That gave us the recommended four feet; and indeed, Mr. Snake looked pretty happy in there, and from his silence appeared satisfied with the distance we were giving him.  Five yards past the spot we set a perfectly rectangular cobble upright on a flat rock to mark the spot coming down. 

I led with my stick the rest of the way, tapping out a constant warning of our approach; for the upper part of the trail was littered with loose rock, some natural and some piled up to mark the trail boundary.  It occurred to me that in snake country it's not such a good idea after all to build loose rock walls along the edge of the trail!  Fortunately, we didn't encounter any more snakes.  There were lots of lizards, though, and LOTS of bumblebees.  Every hackberry had its compliment of busy bees.  Fortunately these giant fuzzballs are relatively docile creatures, unlike the wasps we occasionally spotted. 

Finally we climbed up on a gently sloping, grassy, rock-strewn plain, where the trail pretty much petered out.  Since we were obviously on top of the rim, we decided to call it the end of the trail.  We would have gained a few dozen more feet if we had kept going, but would have lost much of the spectacular view around us in the process.  We sat down in the shade of a dead tree (the fire had burned most of the trees on top of the Rim as well) to rest and have some lunch.  The trip up had taken just over an hour. 

We had the whole area to ourselves—the promontory on which we sat and the steep canyons on either side.  We had noted several sets of footprints on the trail going up; it had rained Friday night but not Saturday, so we didn't know if they were fresh or from the day before.  After about half an hour, eating our lunch and watching a bald eagle gliding noiselessly overhead on the vertical currents blowing up from the plain below, we packed in our trash and headed back down. 

Mr. Snake was still in his cubbyhole when we passed by, but as we stayed on the outside of the trail again, he let us pass without a warning.  I again led with my stick the whole way, so the walk down took a liesurely 40 minutes.  Halfway down, we passed by a half dozen or so people and two dogs heading up in three seperate groups.  A bit of a late start, we thought, especially on a warm day during monsoon season; but the weather was still good, with just a few light clouds starting to build up atop the Rim.  We could also see visitors arriving in the fish hatchery below.  We got back to the trailhead at just before 10:00, the shade of the trees and the soft grass cooling us down nicely from the hike. 

While my normal hiking target is mountains, I would rate this as an excellent hike of moderate difficulty.  At lower elevations and without the snake, it would be a good family hike in cool weather.  The views and the isolation are excellent, though this is paid for to some extent by moderate exposure and the lack of shade.  I highly recommend this trail if you are going to be up in the Rim area. 

The above listed trip reports--documenting day hikes, backpacking trips, and car camping trips organized and arranged by the Arizona Trailblazers Hiking Club, Inc.--are meant to be more of a record of the various events performed by the hiking club and are not meant to be the only guide for anyone else wishing to do the same hike or backpacking trip. Instead, they should only be used as a supplemental to an official guidebook that addresses that specific hike or backpacking trip. Natural changes (floods, fires, windstorms, etc.) can occur and change and alter the landscape. The Forest Service sometimes changes the routing of a trail. Trail junction signs can be removed or altered. For these reasons, the hiking club's trip reports and even the official guidebooks may no longer be totally accurate in describing the trail and its layout. There is always the possibility, however remote, of a hiker sustaining harm or injury while on any hike, no matter how safe it may initially seem. The Arizona Trailblazer's Hiking Club, Inc., as well as any of its officers, directors, representatives, and designated hike leaders, disclaims any liability or responsibility for accidents, injuries, damages, or losses whatsoever that may occur to anyone using the trip reports that are available on our website. The responsibility for good health and safety while hiking, backpacking, or camping, ultimately rests with the individual.