Four-Legged AWD: Kuma Takes on the Tetakawi
- Ernesto Martinez-Ordaz
- Feb 26
- 2 min read
In San Carlos, there’s a difference between a hike and a climb. Most people find that out the hard way. I’ve been hunkered down here since late February, and while the town has its charms, the mountain is what calls. And where I go, Kuma goes.
Kuma isn’t new to the game. He’s a veteran of the Montana backcountry—we’ve tackled Great House Peak in the Big Snowies, Upper Basin Lake, and the steep stretches around Red Lodge. He’s put in the miles from the open range of the Acton Rec Area to the concrete canyons of downtown Chicago. But let’s be clear: Tetakawi is a different beast.
The Gear
If you’re going to do it right, you don’t go empty-handed, but you definitely don’t go one-handed. I see them every time—the first-timers clutching a 2-liter bottle in one hand like a football, or worse, the "trail DJs" lugging a Bluetooth speaker.
My setup is about utility:
Footwear: Salomon XA Pro 3Ds (essential for that Sonoran volcanic rock).
Pack: Osprey Talon 22.
Hydration: Three 32oz Nalgenes (two for me, one for Kuma).
The "Bowl": A lidless plastic container that’s seen better days. Kuma isn’t a critic; he just wants the water.
Kuma’s Kit: A collar, tags, and a tracker. Simple. Reliable.
The Ascent
We head out early. In San Carlos, the sun is your biggest competitor, and the crowds are a close second. We like the silence of the morning, though Kuma has a ritual of breaking that silence. The moment we hit the trailhead, it’s like clockwork: he takes a massive dump. I carry bags, sure, but have you tried picking up waste on these jagged rocks? It’s a recipe for shredded plastic and a very bad day for your fingers. We bury it and move on.
The first half is what I call the "polite" part of the mountain. There’s a marker halfway up suggesting you hydrate and rethink your life choices. From there, the trail stops being a trail and starts being a vertical puzzle.
This is where you need all four appendages. I’m grabbing onto rhyolite outcrops and checking every handhold. Kuma? He doesn’t care about the grade. He’s got built-in all-wheel drive. He scrambles up sections that have humans questioning their insurance policies, looking back at me like I’m the one struggling—which, to be fair, I usually am.
The Summit
We always aim for the cave near the summit. It’s the perfect staging area to catch your breath, swap some dog treats for a couple of human cookies, and prep for the descent. Down is just as treacherous as up; your knees feel every inch of that 1.4-mile round trip.
As we head down, we run into the late-start crowd. You see it all: the tactical gear experts and the people in flip-flops who look like they got lost on the way to the pharmacy. I don’t say much; I just focus on my footing and my dog.
Why do we do it? You don't climb Tetakawi for the exercise. You do it for that specific moment when the sweat stops stinging your eyes and you look out over the Sea of Cortez.
Enough for now. The mountain is still there, and Kuma is already looking at the keys.
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