On our way back to the valley we (I stand corrected, I) decided to take a long cut over to the Chiricahuas. I had first heard about them from my first boss at Hughes in the mid-80s, and by many folks since, but still had never been.
They really are kind of out in the middle on nowhere, which partially explains the deserted vibe. We saw only a handful of vehicles while we were there. It was so quiet you could hear the wind rustling through the trees, and bird calls echoed off the rocks. The pictures don't seem to really capture the magic of the place.
There were only a few people in the campground, although the one guy plopped down in a camp chair wearing nothing but a red Speedo might have had something to do with that.
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