Pinetop-Lakeside, Arizona (April 21, 2021) Mark and I hiked Panorama this morning – a 9.3-mile loop trail that meandered through the forest behind Porter Mountain. This trail was rated “moderate” by AllTrails, which I would say was more about distance than difficulty, as Panorama, with a cumulative elevation gain of just under 700 feet, was relatively flat and easy to hike.
The weather was typical for this time of year – 60-65 degrees and mostly-sunny. Oh – it was also windy…and I do not mean a mild breeze. The wind blew from the Southwest at 10-20 mph, and at times gusted to 25-30 mph – strong enough to whisk the hats from our heads a couple of times along the way! The weather service issued a Red Flag Warning because these conditions created “an increased risk of fire danger.” Happily, this was a fire-free day! |
The trailhead was located on Porter Mountain Road. We grabbed a trail map at the well-stocked map box and headed into the woods on the “starter” path – the first half-mile of the trail that led to the loop. We came to an informative storyboard, More Than Just a Trail, a couple hundred feet up the path, where we learned:
- We were standing in the largest continuous belt of ponderosa pine forest in the world.
- This region of Arizona, which was part of the Colorado Plateau, experienced significant volcanic activity over the last 10 million years.
- Porter Mountain was a large cinder cone, which was the simplest type of volcano. (More on cinder cones later.)
Cool! As an aside, the floor of the forest was littered with basalt rocks and boulders that were formed from lava rich in magnesium and iron.
We had to make a decision when we reached the loop: Go clockwise or counterclockwise? Eeny, meany, miny, moe… We hiked clockwise. In hindsight, it did not matter – so do not stress over the direction when you hike this trail!
We had to make a decision when we reached the loop: Go clockwise or counterclockwise? Eeny, meany, miny, moe… We hiked clockwise. In hindsight, it did not matter – so do not stress over the direction when you hike this trail!
The next mile skirted the backside of Porter Mountain. At one point there was enough clearance to see the top of the mountain, which was “adorned” with all types of antennas – broadcast and amateur radio, TV, and cell phone.
We zigged and zagged through the forest, which included oak, juniper, and other species in addition to ponderosa pine, for a couple of miles after the trail turned north just past Porter Mountain.
A word about this forest: It was sparse in most areas along the trail, with plenty of room for the sun to shine through. And while I cannot be certain, I believed this may be why the trail was named “Panorama” – the thinly-treed grounds provided an unbroken view of the area in most every direction I looked.
A word about this forest: It was sparse in most areas along the trail, with plenty of room for the sun to shine through. And while I cannot be certain, I believed this may be why the trail was named “Panorama” – the thinly-treed grounds provided an unbroken view of the area in most every direction I looked.
There were a few points along the trail where the trees opened to provide an expansive view of the countryside. I loved the view from this ridge, which looked out to the north. I read that the San Francisco Peaks – a mountain range in Flagstaff more than 100 miles northwest as the crow flies – was visible from this point on a clear day. This was not a clear day, but still the scenery was beautiful!
We reached Sawmill Connector, a secondary trail, about three miles into our hike (remember, we traveled counterclockwise). This trail connected Panorama to Timber Mesa, a loop trail to the west. Mark and I plan to hike from trailhead to trailhead – from Timber Mesa across Sawmill Connector to Panorama, a distance of about 12 miles – within the next month.
From this point, we descended a couple hundred feet to the backside of Panorama trail, a four-mile stretch that brought us to the beginning of the loop. Just saying, but IMHO the backside of the trail was less scenic than the frontside. There were, however, two points of interest along the way – a rock tank and a pair of cinder cones.
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The rock tank, known locally as Porter Tank, was a small, man-made irrigation reservoir filled by rain water (and possibly snow melt). However, even with the rain we had a couple days ago, the tank’s bed was dry this day. Porter Tank, by the way, was one of at least four tanks in the area built by (and named for) James and Jack Porter, two brothers who ran sheep and cattle on the open range of the White Mountains in the late 1800s. These brothers also lent their surname to Porter Mountain, Porter Road, and Porter Creek.
Two conical cinder cones rose a couple hundred feet above the trail at its southern edge, about two miles from the trailhead. These cones, dubbed “Twin Knolls,” were created when the lava that ejected through their vents broke into small fragments that solidified as cinders. Due to “operator error” with my phone, I do not have a photo to show to you – so you will have to hike Panorama trail to see Twin Knolls for yourself!
Two conical cinder cones rose a couple hundred feet above the trail at its southern edge, about two miles from the trailhead. These cones, dubbed “Twin Knolls,” were created when the lava that ejected through their vents broke into small fragments that solidified as cinders. Due to “operator error” with my phone, I do not have a photo to show to you – so you will have to hike Panorama trail to see Twin Knolls for yourself!
Mark and I completed this hike in less than four hours – an average pace of 2.5 mph. My leg muscles were a bit sore, but I felt refreshed by the exercise and clean mountain air and blessed to live in the White Mountains where I had the opportunity to again enjoy the great outdoors!
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Mark and I rounded the last curve on the loop and walked a half mile to the trailhead. Along the way, I stopped to examine an alligator juniper that caught my eye. It wasn’t the distinctive bark, which gave this tree it’s name, that gave me pause, but rather the charred cavity near its base that (I hoped) was caused by a lightning strike. In my mind’s eye, I saw a piece of art – an irregularly shaped frame that surrounded a center panel with an image of a person, perhaps an Ancestral Puebloan who lived in this area a thousand years ago. Who knew that Mother Nature was an artist?!
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