The Jug.

After many cold months in Washington, when I arrived back in Arizona, I knew it was time to get in some much needed desert adventure. A friend of mine had posted pictures of “The Jug” near the town of Punkin Center, AZ and it looked like the perfect spot to spend a night and get some AZ sun. There were rumors of a 30ft rappel into a flowing river which my friend Helmet and I thought would be a great intro in to “canyoneering.” We drove what felt like way too long towards Payson and took a small side road in to an odd little town called Punkin Center. The Four Peaks Wilderness and Roosevelt Lake lie just south of town, and make for a beautiful back drop in this middle of nowhere town.

The road finally turns to dirt and the 10 mile drive to the trailhead begins. This drive turns very peculiar when you begin to see terrain resembling something like a little Canyonlands. Not as grand, not as inspiring, but a hint of land carved out by millions of years of water flow.

Upon arriving at the trailhead we are greeted by a group of people just getting back from a swim in the frigid waters down in the canyon. All donning wetsuits, Helmet and I begin to question our intentions. I have never owned a wetsuit and Helmet said he tried his on before leaving on the overnight, and he couldn’t even get it over his thigh. Needless to say, we were either freezing for the rest of the night or hoping the water was just a tad chilly and we will be backstroking as the sun went down… I bet you can guess which one held true!

 Helmet and I never said we were very good at navigating a trail we’ve never been to, but we definitely stayed true to ourselves and looked for the “big rappel” spot for a solid couple hours. After fumbling around, what we would later find out to be snake territory, we stumbled upon some anchors drilled in to the side of some rock. 5 anchors in all, shiny and ready to be caressed by Helmet’s new rope. We couldn’t see the bottom of the rappel but knew it went into water so we were trying to be extra safe. Helmet finally got to a sketchy vantage point and thinks he saw the rope near the bottom. “It looks like it will reach the bottom, but it’s caught in a tree about 10ft from the bottom,” Helmet exclaimed. After many childhood years of rappelling out of trees, off of houses and finally the famous zip-line rappel from the telephone pole to the corner of the fence- we both trusted each other and knew that it was go time. After double checking each other we threw on our packs, Helmet’s pack of course 10-12 times heavier than mine, and we began our descent into the canyon below. The rappel that Helmet originally said was 30ft, ended up being 115ft into only a slight pool of water. The way the rap was set up we had to do a bit of a split most of the way down the rock. It made for an incredibly uncomfortable rappel that we were happy to get over with sooner than later.

(Me at the top)

(Cutting-it-close-with-the-rope-face)

At the bottom we gathered our things and made sure our dry sacks were in place and had all of our “important” electronic devices stowed safely. From this point until we roll in to camp, we will be freezing our ass’ off and negotiating some pretty hairy situations. We slid into the freezing water and began to froggy kick while holding onto our packs that floated due to the sleeping pads we had attached. Had it not been for something that floated, we may have lost Helmet on the last 100m swim! After our first swim we came upon a ledge that had a bit of a fixed line in the form of a 20ft piece of webbing anchored into the side of a rock. Here we knew the 30ft rappel that Helmet orginally thought was going to be our first… was our indefinite next move. Helmet went first trying to manage the 70m of rope that once thrown over the edge, pretty much landed in a no-fall-zone/waterfall. Not sure the sketchiness that ensued at the bottom but he managed to get to a ledge and yelled for me to go. At the bottom of this rappel he pulled me over to his ledge, out of the way of the flowing water and we contemplated our next move. I told him he should swim through the pond and gather the rope where we would have more room. He kindly declined. “YOU go swim to the other side and gather the rope!” Helmet said with much constrain. So I set off once again for a much shorter swim to an area large enough to gather our gear… and ourselves. With the way the canyon was set up, winding left and right, we never knew exactly how long our next swim would be. So we would just ease in to the water and hope for the best. The next two swims were very similar, long, cold and without an end in sight. Helmet and I came to a conclusion that I was the Michael Phelps of backpack-float-froggy kicking, and he was the NOT Michael Phelps of…… With a few hip and hammy cramps we made it to the eventual end, and floated belly first up on to the kinda-sandy exit.

We decided this small stretch of sandy real estate would be perfect to pitch our tent and get a small fire going. We then proceeded to strip down into our cotton intimates and dry what didn’t stay dry in our DRY sacks. (Yea, thank you for your false advertisement!) Helmet took the brunt of the wet clothing fiasco but finally dried them enough to not be soaked as the temperature began to plummet. With some Nicki Minaj blasting and conversation all over the map, we had a bit of a surprise visitor. With the menacing rattle of the tail, Mr. Rattlesnake let us know we were a little too close to his home. I did a bit of a high kick, with remnants of River Dancing, and got my ass out of there. With Helmet shining his 8000 lumen AAA sized flashlight into the bushes, we saw that we now had a visitor for the rest of the evening. Eggshells, we were walking on eggshells around camp from this point forward.

It was time to turn in for the evening so we polished off the last of the Capt. Morgan’s cough syrup and man snuggled the night away… with little choice on the matter, the tent was tiny. With one startling incident in the course of the evening, I think we both slept as well as we could have given the situation. (Startling incident = My shirt blowing off a nearby rock and hitting the tent, we thought for sure something was trying to eat us…)

After the morning sun woke us up we gathered our gear, had a cup o’ joe and headed up the trail- back to the truck. We retrieved our biners from the initial rappel, thankfully nobody thought it was free gear and took it home. After a epically un-epic ride back to the valley we nourished ourselves with a little Filibertos. (On my list of places to eat before I leave AZ again… check!)

I would totally recommend this hike, just a little later in the year so you can enjoy a nice swim!