The Call of the White Mountains: Country Club Trail #632

For those unfamiliar with the White Mountain trail system, it’s essential to stick to the marked paths. Straying off can easily get you lost and might harm the forest. Plus, in case of injury, the trails are coded with a letter and number system that helps 911 locate you quickly.

Now, with that safety information out of the way, let’s dive into our adventure.

I arrived at Country Club Trail #632 bleary-eyed, running on a single cup of coffee. I had overslept and rushed out, hoping to beat the heat. Up here in the mountains, you get a different kind of heat, one that even those fleeing the Phoenix valley’s scorch can find oppressive once acclimated. There’s something about the altitude and the thinner air that hits differently.

The trailhead is just off Bucksprings Road, tucked behind the Pinetop Country Club golf course. But don’t be deceived by its name; once on the trail, it’s just you, your thoughts, and nature. No sign of the golfers or their carts—just the serene silence of the forest.

Setting out, I noticed a large black figure moving through the trees to my right.

“Could be a bear,” I thought, followed by, “Would make for a great photo.”

If you read my piece on the Timber Mesa Trail #636, you know I avoid unnecessary risks. But sometimes, curiosity overrules caution. So, I crept closer, camera ready.

Was it a bear?

Heh, no. If it had been, I might not be writing this story. It was a large cow. You can imagine my disappointment and relief as I snapped a photo.

Suddenly, more cows appeared, seemingly out of everywhere—and nowhere. A chill ran down my spine, bringing to mind a scene straight out of “Children of the Corn.” They moved closer, stopping about 20 feet away.

Now, I’ve been shooting rodeos long enough to know two things: livestock are unpredictable and faster than me.

So, I gave a hearty hello, waved, and moved on, but glanced over my shoulder. Just in case.

The trail weaves through dense pine, ponderosa, and oak trees. The path, blanketed with pinecones and needles, with occasional rocks, is perfect for trail runners, mountain bikers, and horseback riders alike. The scent of pine is thick in the air, mingling with the earthy smell of decaying needles. Birds provide a constant soundtrack, interrupted only by the rustle of small animals in the underbrush.

At some point, I stopped to absorb the natural beauty around me. The forest teems with life. If you pause and look closely—you’ll see squirrels, birds, horses, deer and yes, even cows, each a part of the vibrant world out here.

Early on into my hike I watched as a squirrel hunting for food scurried up a tree taller than any building I’ve come across in the White Mountains. Later I watched as a bird with a worm caught in its beak likely heading to its young caught my eye, as did a foal clinging to its mother.

The forest is never idle.

Every step reveals a new scene: a butterfly landing on a wildflower, a lizard basking on a sun-warmed rock, the distant drumming of a woodpecker.

Continuing, I encountered what I thought an unusual sight: a bridge cutting between a wire fence next to a gate.

Odd, I thought. Why have both?

Forestry management must have its reasons. The bridge is not good for wheelchairs as it was cut up to prevent animals from crossing. I shrugged the thoughts away and snapped a photo.

But more on that later.

The trail has several connectors. If you have time, take one. They extend the 3.5-mile trail, offering even more beauty. One such connector, the Chipmunk Springs Trail, offers another 7 miles to your hike. It’s worth the detour for the additional scenic vistas and the chance to see more wildlife. There’s also the Iron Horse Connector #632A that’s another shorter option at 1.6 miles.

As I ventured deeper, I came across a tree with a big bend in it. It was reminiscent of the Crooked Forest in Poland. I knew this because I included it in the fantasy books I wrote. I never thought I’d see one in person. This is often caused by heavy snows, but sometimes by humans. In this case, I believe it to be natural.

The trail’s solitude deepened. There’s a particular kind of peace that comes from being alone in nature, away from the noise and bustle of everyday life.

It’s just you and the elements.

Every crunch of a pinecone underfoot, every whisper of wind through the trees, becomes a part of the experience. The sun climbed higher, casting long shadows and creating a dappled effect on the forest floor.

At one point, I stopped to rest on a fallen log. As I sat, I noticed some burned trees. It was a stark reminder of how fragile our corner of the world is. A careless camper or an unexpected bolt of lightning has been known to take out massive amounts of forest acreage.

So, heed the warnings here when there are fire restrictions. It’s for all our protection.

At some point, I took a moment to simply stop and appreciate the surroundings. You know the saying; stop and smell the roses. But out here, there are no roses. I suppose you could say the animals are the roses. Each creature, each bird and squirrel, is a part of the forest’s intricate tapestry. Watching a squirrel jump from tree to tree or birds chasing each other is like watching nature’s ballet. These moments of quiet observation remind me why I hike deep in the forest.

I continued until I was stopped by something that took me by surprise: it was another bridge and gate combination. I dismissed it almost immediately, having seen it once before, and simply walked past it.

Little did I know this was the gate to the main trail.

A quarter-mile later, my GPS showed I was off course. I backtracked, went through the gate, and when I saw the third bridge, it felt like a warm embrace. That familiar sight, in the middle of the wilderness, reassured me that I was heading in the right direction. It was a comforting landmark, a sign that I was back on track.

My tired legs appreciated it.

As I drew closer to the end of my hike, I heard a distant cow’s moo echo through the forest. Fatigue had set in by then. Two hikes in as many days had worn me out. The meandering s-curves of the trail added to my exhaustion. The path twisted and turned, each bend looking deceptively like the last, creating a sense of déjà vu.

Near the end, I stopped to take in the view. During one of the descents, through the tall pines, I glimpsed a mountain in the distance. The peaks, covered in a mix of pine and aspen, stood tall and proud against the clear blue sky. Moments like these make the effort worthwhile. The sweat, the sore muscles, all fade away when faced with such natural beauty.

Finally, I reached the trailhead, where my truck was surrounded by a herd of cows. It felt like a “welcome back” scene. The lead cow, likely the one I heard, mooed, calling the herd to order. They stared back at me as I slid into the front seat of my truck, ready for a well-deserved breakfast and a second cup of coffee.

Before heading home, I took a moment to reflect on the hike. Country Club Trail #632 is a gem, offering a mix of solitude and natural beauty. It’s a reminder of why I love the White Mountains. Each trail has its own character, its own set of challenges and rewards. And as always, it leaves me eager to explore more.

Now, let’s delve into the nitty-gritty details for the data enthusiasts.

Gear:

– Cameras: Sony A7iii (landscapes) and Sony A6400 (animals)

– Lenses: Tamron 28-75mm f/2.8 and a Sony 200-600mm f/5.6-6.3

– Watch: Garmin Fenix 6 Solar

Hiking Data:

– Distance: 4.38 miles

– Elevation Ascent: 234 feet

– Time: 1 hour 35 minutes

– Pace: 21:46 minutes per mile

– Steps: 10,031

I hope you enjoyed this journey through Country Club Trail #632. Stay tuned for my next adventure as I tackle another trail in the White Mountains, perhaps a bit more challenging. But only slightly.

USDF Trail Information