I was anxious to get to the Whitewater Creek Catwalk Trail in the Whitewater Canyon. It lived up to its hype.

I read about the Whitewater Creek Catwalk and felt compelled to check it out. It seemed to have it all: a whitewater river flowing through a steep canyon, a raised catwalk allowing hikers to walk through the tight canyon above the river, and very few visitors because it was so out-of-the-way.

We found the tiny Bighorn National Campground, a cute little free 9-site campground, just outside of the cute little town of Glenwood, just 6 miles from the Catwalk, at about 10 am. I couldn’t wait to hit the trail, so we quickly threw up camp and took off.

Wanda, feeling a ton better, decided to give the hike a whirl - what a trooper! Of course, she had drank about 2 barrels of water in the last 24 hours.

The Whitewater Creek Catwalk was everything I had been lead to believe. We spent hours tooling around in the canyon. The catwalk itself, about a quarter mile long, was ingeniously hung from one side of the canyon. I wouldn’t want every canyon to have one of these catwalks. It would take away from the natural look, but having one such structure in one such canyon seemed OK.

In other parts of the trail, we had to scramble over rocks, cross the fast moving river several times on impromptu twisted log bridges, and finally stopping at a pool of water under a small waterfalls. The total length, one way, was 1.1 miles. The trail is actually longer, however, a recent wild fire swept through, and the rest of the trail was temporarily closed due to some damage from the fire.

Speaking of fires, the vegetation that was burned, sure seems to be resilient. The big trees were scorched on their trunks but still green on top. Even the scrub brush looked to be thriving. We saw other areas of the desert that were scorched in the same way. I just figured it was prescribed burning, however, twice I found out it was due to wildfires.

The foothills of the Mogollon Mountains as we approached the Catwalk.

The creek as it spills out of the canyon.

We began our walk up the Whitewater Canyon.

Notice the quarter mile long catwalk hanging off the side of the canyon wall.

That water was COLD.

Lookin’ kind of tuff!

After the Catwalk Trail, we drove up to Mogollon, an old silver mining ghost town. When I say “up to”, I really mean it. Highway 159 started off like a true two-lane highway with a center line, shoulders, and everything, but it soon evolved into a mountain goat path. I thought yesterday’s Trail of the Mountain Spirits road was a “white-knuckler”. This road raised that to the level of a real “nail-biter”. Shear cliffs, no guard rails, severe 180º switchbacks, near vertical grade, and a single lane patched-to-the-max excuse for a road. It was glorious!

We only met one pickup truck, luckily not on one of those blind switchback curves. We had to slow dance our way passed each other. I would creep up 2 inches, hugging the stone wall. He would inch up 2 inches, precariously near the cliff. I liked my wall position better than his cliff side position. This went on for a couple of minutes. When our driver side windows met, he rolled down his window, and with a knowing smile, said, “do you think you can make it?” I replied like a seasoned mountain goat, “no problem.” After more 2 inch dancing, we cleared.

Mogollon wasn’t exactly a ghost town. People still lived there. What they did, was to keep the old weathered mining buildings, and use them as props for tourist.

The silver mine mostly played out in the 50s. A short-lived attempt to revive the mine in the 70s quickly petered out. Mogollon had a reputation for being a true wild west shoot ‘em town. It had 6,000 people in its heyday. There might be 25 now, which I guess, makes it kind of ghostly.

Highway 159 was a real nail-biter.

The foothills of the Mogollon Mountains near Highway 159.

Looking down on the mountains hanging from Hwy 159.

One of the friendlier stretches of the road. I didn’t dare get out to take a photo of the bad parts of the road.

The semi-ghost town of Mogollon.

The stage coach station.

The town theater.

The drive back down the harrowing goat path was uneventful - no car dancing was required. We did see one car get just so far up the mountain before having second thoughts. He found a tiny spot to make a Y-turn and headed back down.

Our camp at Bighorn National Campground.

Dave and Wanda

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