A Quick Escape: Two Days in the Chiricahua Mountains

A Quick Escape: Two Days in the Chiricahua Mountains By Sammy Brighton

After months on the trail, I needed something short. Something where I didn’t have to carry a giant pack or count the miles. So, I packed my bag for a quick two-day hiking trip in the Chiricahua Mountains. Just me, the trails, and a chance to soak up the quiet for a bit.

I arrived at the Cave Creek Canyon Trailhead in the morning, the sun still low, the air cool. The trailhead was quiet, just a couple of other cars, so I knew it’d be a peaceful trip. I threw my pack on and headed out. The Cave Creek Canyon Trail was a perfect start—easy, winding through oak and pine trees, with the creek bubbling somewhere off to my left. The sound of the water was enough to make me feel like I’d made the right decision. There’s something about hiking alone that brings you closer to the land. It’s just you and the trail, no distractions.

The first couple of miles weren’t too tough, and I wasn’t in any hurry. I was here for the quiet, the beauty, and a chance to breathe. When I hit the first viewpoint, I stopped. The rocks around me were something else. Huge spires and weird hoodoos jutting out from the ground like they were trying to touch the sky. The whole scene felt like something out of a storybook. I snapped a few pictures, but mostly, I just stood there, taking it in. You don’t need to rush through places like this.

After a while, I moved on, heading further into the loop. The day warmed up, but it wasn’t too bad. By the time I found my camp spot by the creek, I was ready to call it a day. No one around for miles. Just the sound of the water and the breeze through the trees. Set up camp, made dinner, and sat there for a while, watching the light change on the rocks. There’s something about watching the sunset from a place like this that makes you feel like time is moving slower. That’s why I love these short trips. It’s all about being present.

The next morning, I woke up early. The air was cold enough to make me want to stay bundled in my sleeping bag, but I knew I had to move if I wanted to see more. I packed up quickly and started on the Bear Wallow Trail, which took me higher into the mountains. The climb was steady but not too bad. As I gained elevation, the view started to open up, and I could see the valley stretching out below me. The wind picked up, a little colder, but I didn’t mind. It was one of those winds that feels good, like nature giving you a little nudge.

By the time I reached the Heart of Rocks, I was totally wowed. I had read about it, but seeing it in person was something else. Giant boulders balanced on top of each other, creating natural tunnels and passageways. I couldn’t resist. I had to scramble around, climb through the rocks. It felt like being a kid again, like I was playing in a massive, outdoor jungle gym. The place had a weird, magical feel to it. I don’t know how else to describe it.

I spent more time there than I’d planned. It was one of those spots where you lose track of time, just exploring and taking it all in. But eventually, I had to get moving.

The next bit of hiking was a little more rugged. The terrain changed—less forest, more rock. The kind of trail that makes you work for every step, but in a way that’s satisfying. The views just kept getting better as I hiked, with the valley below me and the mountains rising on all sides. By the time I started making my way back down, the sun was already beginning to dip, casting long shadows on the rocks.

The last stretch was easier, mostly downhill. I wasn’t rushing, though. I had all the time in the world. The trail was quiet, just me and the sound of my shoes on the dirt. There’s something calming about the end of a hike like this, when you know the hardest parts are behind you, and you can just let yourself be.

When I finally made it back to the trailhead, I felt that perfect mix of exhaustion and contentment. My legs were sore, but not in a bad way. Just the kind of sore that says, “You did something good today.” Two days in the Chiricahuas was all I needed to remember why I love hiking and have a hard time settling into real life. It’s not always about pushing yourself to the limit or racking up miles. Sometimes, it’s about getting away from the noise, stepping into a place that feels untouched, and letting yourself just be.

The Chiricahua Mountains had given me that, and I knew I’d be back for another short escape before long. No rush, no big goals—just the trail, the rocks, and the quiet. Perfect.

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