I really, really like hiking Piestewa Peak. How much? Well, I did some math in my head the other day.
Since moving to the Valley in 1998, back when the 2,612-foot mountain was called Squaw Peak – and, let’s be honest, still is in some quarters – I’ve hiked the thing no fewer than 1,400 times. During every month of the year that isn’t July, August or September, I tend to lace up my Merrells two or three times a week for a taste of the mountain. When I was in my 20s, I would even do dead-of-summer Sunday hikes at dusk. So, let’s be conservative and say it averages out to once weekly for 27 years. That’s about 1,400 hikes.
But, in all that time, I never saw a sunrise on Piestewa. I’m not a morning guy. Late-day hikes are my jam. But still… not a single early morning hike? For shame.
I had this revelation while reading about local folk music artist Ken Koshio, who went semi-viral recently when someone posted an unkind thing on social media – yes, unbelievably, people sometimes do that! – about his lovely daily habit of hiking Piestewa Peak and greeting every sunrise with a traditional taiko drum session. “Now there’s a guy,” I thought to myself, with amazement, “who loves the mountain even more than I do.”
I resolved to see and hear one of Ken’s mountaintop prayer ceremonies in person – and, not coincidentally, enjoy my first Piestewa Peak sunrise. The easiest way to motivate myself: Make him a part of this Winter Bucket List cover story, and tag along on the photo shoot.
Within days, I found myself on the trail in the wee hours of a September morning with Koshio, marveling at the muscular, tureen-like calves described by writer Jessica Dunham on page 98, the dividend of hauling that 50-pound drum to the summit every day since the pandemic.
I chatted with Ken, listened to his story. Learned that he lived in Los Angeles the same time I did in the 1990s, after moving to the U.S. from Japan. The bands he played in, relocating to Arizona. And, significantly, learned that he would be visiting his folks in Japan this fall, breaking his formidable morning-hike-streak. Bittersweet, that.
And then, along with about a dozen other hikers, I watched him perform (the details of which are vividly and movingly described in Jessica’s story) while the first hint of the day peaked over the Superstitions.
Just another morning for Ken, but a bucket-list morning for me.
