After thoroughly using the 5 L gathered yesterday for liberal water drinking, food preparation, and of course, the backcountry bidet, we got up and got moving to Russell Tank. And today we would get our first view of the Grand Canyon. Bilbo was out after us, and so Janna and I meandered our way to Russel Trough where we filled up on water. The Kaibab Forest was dense with ponderosa now, stretching our limitlessly - a throwback to the Mogollon Rim just a short while ago. We drank water and walked along the double track rolling through the woods. A couple hours later, we arrived at Russell Tank, which was more of a large alpine lake than a shallow depression of cowshit water. It was absolutely gorgeous with abundant bird life and many places to sit and enjoy the view. I took the opportunity to use the trash cans to dump trash (bye-bye extra large bag of free M&Ms that I was now officially sick of after 24 hours). Then, I walked down to the shore of the lake and cleaned the salt and dust out of my socks, as well as washed my feet. Bilbo caught up with us and we spread out, each of us taking some space to enjoy the silence and views. My feet clean and my water refilled, Janna and I walked with Bilbo through a grove of ponderosa that the AZT wove through. Our pace outmatched his, so we pushed ahead passing by multiple remains of half-eaten elk. The blur of green pine covered the surrounding views, but our progress was well-measured by the hum of excitement that were approaching the Grand Canyon. By midday, we descended a steep embankment in the woods, sharply switchbacked to a canyon floor and up the other side where a small thinning in the trees allowed us a view of our position. We were poised on top of a high plateau with commanding views of a drier, stunted-tree plateau below. And there! In the distance, was a thin stripe of red sandwiched in green: a sliver of canyon rock! Excited, we pushed on and by 2 pm, we arrived at the Grandview Trailhead. Here, multiple cars were parked and people milled about below a massive fire tower. Multiple plaques commemorating history and describing the history of wildfire on the land stood about. We left our packs by a trail marker and climbed up the fire tower. Several stories up, the views was AWESOME. Behind us, the vast monolithic ponderosa forest stretched with views of the snow-peaked San Francisco Peaks in the distance. And before us, The carved earth showed its insides as spires and buttes thrust upward from the Grand Canyon. Every bend in the land as the cusp of that fall was as obvious as a knife cutting butter. It was spectacular and proved we had gotten this far. Upon descent, we rand into Rand, the thru-hiker Janna had talked to back in the Santa Ritas during our first week on the trail! He had just finished and was back with a friend who drove to pick him up and wanted to see the area. He gave us some beta about the trail ahead and assured us we could secure sites in the Grand Canyon as AZT thru-hikers. He also said the snow as tough on the North Rim and wouldn’t abate until Jacob Lake. With that, he replace our algae-water with fresh water and gave us a whole box of oatmeal pies to eat. All I can say is: CREAM OF OATMEAL PIE. Janna and I hiked ahead and passed by remains of past burns and the forest in various stages of recovery. Apparently, parasitic mistletoe was so bad here in the 1900s that it killed most of the forest which easily caught flame. Now, it was being managed after years of fire suppression followed by bad burns. As the afternoon wore on, Bilbo caught up to us and we walked and talked for several miles. The three of us moved in and out of meadows of fresh green grass and into the massive stands of pines. As early evening approached, Bilbo decided he would camp early as he had a hotel for a Nero Day in Tusayan planned and couldn’t check in until later in the day. We bid him goodbye and good luck. We exchanged contact information as it seemed our trip itineraries were parting ways. As evening approached, Janna and I contemplated a 30 mile day to camp right outside of Tusayan, but decided against it as exhaustion set in. We ate dinner in the evening dark as cold dropped hard into the area. We pushed on hiking in the dark until we entered an area with excellent flat spots. We wandered into the woods in the dark and picked a place suitable for a camping and just a few miles short of town. We battened down the tent and just made it in as low-slung clouds that gathered over the course of the evening began to putter rain onto us for the rest of the night.
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Now that we were back in the high desert, crossing vast plains with little cover, the daily heat brought challenges again. In an effort to combat it, the big group of thru-hikers we found ourselves in, strangely enough, woke up early to get going. All day, we were in a giant sagebrush basin with little vegetative cover. The views were incredible. Behind us, the snowy husks of Humphreys Peak and Kendricks Peak loomed stark against a flat arid-land. The sense of distance and expanse seemed unmatched by any other segment of the Arizona Trail. This is why I love this state. The shear diversity of landscape and biome all slammed into a single state. A few miles bring you from the equator to the poles. The morning was cold with a slight wind as we left East Cedar Tank and rejoined the rocky double track crossing Babbitt Ranch. We got to the Arizona Trail segment trailhead where a small scattering of low-hung juniper provided some wind protection. Detour was sitting on some rocks with the hiker box open. It was stock full of water jugs and snacks, which she was enjoying in the early morning. As we talked to her, a van pulled up out of the horizon and four backpackers got out. It turns out they had been hiking the entirety of the AZT in segments for the last couple of years and this was one of the last ones they had left. Their driver-friend was going to drive 10 miles ahead and setup a day camp they were walking to. With generosity, they let us know we could grab water from the van when we passed it. This was super helpful as I think we had 20 miles until our next water source and then another 20 to the following one. Such was the nature of this section - reliable water at repeated 20 mile intervals. Their offer meant we could carry less water weight and drink a little more freely in the day’s heat. Despite the vast and remote nature of this segment, there was soon a string of thru-hikers staggered to the horizon along this lonely dirt road crossing the high desert. Ironically, the most AZTers I had seen at one time. The thru-hikers covering 40ish miles a day rose and snapped to the trail at day break. Their 3+ mph average quickly outpaced us all. Everyone else was going more of less the same speed - everyone playing chase to each other. As the morning went on and we approached an isolated rise to our lefts, a pair of thru-hikers going south passed us. They let us know they had stashed water north of us they no longer needed, making it public. I laughed at the relative abundance of water that had fallen on us in this dry section. We passed a few jugs of public water and turned right and left onto dirt roads leading to remote ranches and who knows where. The AZT stuck to some double track that went up a rise covered in poppies and fireweed and then stuck to a high view of the San Francisco Peaks in the distance. We came up on a van packing up camp gear - they were the team with the southbounders. They offered some free food and I took an ENTIRE monster bag of peanut M&Ms. I ATE SO MANY it felt like my teeth would fall out. Bilbo caught up to us at this point and we walked together for several hours talking about the backpacking scene, ultralight vs stupid light, the nature of trails, and his distilled wisdom from 70 years of living. Soon, another thru-hiker caught up to us. It turns out he had attempted the FKT on the Florida Trail earlier this year and was out here now doing 40ish miles a day. He talked to us for a bit before pushing on to catch the other large-mile hikers we had camped with last night. Around noon, Bilbo split from us to take a rest and we pushed forward as some straggler junipers started appearing. As the heat picked up, I found a nice shady spot and took a siesta nap. Some time later, we got up and kept moving. Now, the doubletrack was approaching some topography as a small canyon rounded up around us and we approached the 20 mile mark for the day. Lockwood Tank was straight ahead - a necessary water source to hit because the next one wasn’t for another 20 miles. Except this one was notorious. Walking up to the area, the Arizona Trail swerved left but we went straight up a rise and saw a trough and rusted metal tank down the hill. All of which were surrounded by some 40 uncastrated bulls. I had never seen so many hulking bulls in my life. I walked up slowly, cautiously making myself known, talking to the bulls, being like: “Hey bull…you’re my friend. Just chill man while we get some water.” They stared hard at us. Some stood behind others. They were all colossal. The decision to avoid the trough was easy as there were 10 bulls actively drinking from it and I wasn’t going to fuck with that. The metal tank was where I headed. There was a rusty ladder hanging off the top so I climbed it, peered in, and saw that the water was about 4.5 feet down, a good foot or two beyond my reach and probably a solid 5.5 feet of water. Now began the puzzle to solve - how to get water out. On Guthook, we read that someone flipped the ladder in, climbed down, got water, and flipped the ladder out. Fuck that. That was insane to do. I tried to sit on top and balance to do the stupid ladder thing, but I almost fell in. Then, I was like, “I’m totally just going to jump in. I’m tall enough I can just stand in the water and I can fill them up and pass the water bottles out.” Janna flatly rejected leaving me stranded in a large rusty basin of water. At this point Detour came and joined our decision-making. I realized I had some duct tape and Detour had massive Smartwater bottles. I taped one of her massive bottles to the end of my trekking pole, extended the trekking pole, and shoved it down until it was submerged and could be fished back out. Perfect. We scored a ton of water and waited for Bilbo who, legendary for his age, was a pretty small due at 70 years old and there was no way he could reach down. He showed up and was entirely grateful for the help. Water obtained and carrying 5 L each, Janna and I walked back out to the AZT and joined the dirt doubletrack. Maybe 40 minutes later, a bikepacker came up behind us on the AZT 750 race! He was French, exhausted, and literally almost falling off his bike from not sleeping for days. I couldn’t believe he was still going but I cheered him on despite almost falling asleep while riding. With that, the AZT left the doubletrack into the singletrack that cut across a plain of Arizona sage and plunged into the southern boundary of the Kaibab National Forest. I was very excited to be in this area as this suggested the shear nearness of the Grand Canyon. As afternoon drifted towards early evening, we walked several more miles repeatedly passing and being passed by Detour. We passed through ponderosa-juniper-pinion forests that rose with the slight elevation gains on the land. Finally, we walked across a large sagebrush field and saw the old historic sign for Moqui Stage Station along this ancient stagecoach route. With that, a brisk wind had picked up in early evening and a thunderhead of clouds was building in the east. We decided to camp in the forest nearby and found an excellent spot with wind protection and not too many branches should a storm hit us tonight. Detour decided to push ahead to meet a friend at the Grand Canyon tomorrow and we bid her goodbye. Bilbo came upon us in early evening and we invited him to camp with us. We all sat around eating dinner with another thru-hiker named Tyson showed up, someone Bilbo knew. We invited Tyson to eat with us. He was an awesome guy who lived in Alaska part of the year and down in Arizona doing vanlife for the moment. He pushed ahead after dinner, making plans to hit the Grand Canyon tomorrow as well. Fed and satiated, Bilbo, Janna, and I climbed into our shelters and passed out under the glory of stars and darkness. I slept incredibly well, deep, and woke up feeling well-rested. Sleeping at nearly 9,000 feet next to snow drifts meant a crispy morning. By the time we crawled out, Bilbo was packing up his last items and heading on his way. We told him we were aiming for East Cedar Tank out on the Babbitt Ranch property. He gave us his goodbye and got going, knowing his own pace and circadian rhythm well. I took my time this morning, sitting on fallen aspen logs, looking up at the sun rising over the snow-crusted San Francisco Peaks. Once we got going, we felt the cold even more pushing through snow drifts with damp shoes at 6:30 am. The trail drifted up and through thick aspen groves before crossing a large prairie where rushes of snowmelt filled the trail like a channel (see the photo below). Keeping to Leave No Trace principles, we walked through the 35 degree F water and broken ice as our feet froze. I was in good spirits and kept saying, “Keep moving to keep the metabolic heat up!” to ward off the frost-numbness painfully eating my feet. A few more crossings of rushing snowmelt runoff brought us through a steep embankment of snow I plunged down before we were back on dry ground, both us wet and shivering. From here, the Arizona Trail wound into the aspen forest, the aspen skeletons and yet unbudded from spring. At some point, the sun hitting us finally warmed us up enough to stop and eat breakfast (Frost Mini-Wheats!) on a large fallen aspen while sitting in the sun with shoes and socks off to warm up. Filled with calories and a bit drier, we joined the trail again as it curved far above Hart Prairie and the Nature Conservancy property below. Then, we walked through more snow in the woods before the descent off the flank of Humphreys Peak began in earnest. As we slowly descended off the north side of the mountain, the snow began to recede while the vegetative alpine carpet began to breathe the air of fresh ground in spring decomposition. Further and further we switchbacked back and forth downwards - a reminder of how I had mountain biked up this singletrack a few months earlier. Suddenly, we ran into two thru-hikers going southbound. Our group and theirs had been slowed by the constant need to route around, under, and over fallen trees from the winter that crisscrossed the trail, or snowdrifts against them that made creative moves a must. It turned out they were originally thru-hiking the Hayduke Trail. The Hayduke Trail (so-named for Edward Abbey’s “Monkeywrench Gang”) is more of a route than trail proper. It stretches 800 or so odd miles from Arches National Park in Moab, Utah through Canyonlands, across the Grand-Staircase, down to both the north south rims of the Grand Canyon, back up to Bryce Canyon, and terminates at Zion National Park. It’s a route for truly experienced desert backpackers only and requires canyoneering and orienteering to the max. These two looked destroyed. The reason why? Not the desert. But the snow on the North Rim of the Grand Canyon. They both had shadows under their eyes and spoke of the monstrous snowpack, breaking trail for hours day after day while postholing, and how bad the winter was on the Arizona Strip. This was our first encounter with anyone coming off the North Rim and it definitely woke us up. I had seen some reports on the Facebook AZT page of hikers crossing 40 miles of 10-15 feet deep unbroken snowpack between the North Rim and Jacob Lake that kept my senses alert. Their story’s corroboration had me hoping that increased warm temperatures would lead to more melt before we arrived. Essentially, they had crossed the Grand Canyon at the north to south rims and just kept going south on the AZT. As we were talking, another thru-hiker came up behind us and caught us: Fenway. Once we departed the Haydukers, Fenway stayed with us for a bit before we split at an abandoned forest road. We were looking to fill up water one last time before heading down in the high desert again and this seemed to be it. Little Spring (the official name) lay 0.6 miles down a overgrown forest road. Literally, this road was so overgrown that we walked a quarter mile past it before we realized it, turned around, and had to use Guthook to confirm that barely perceptible “road” was indeed where we needed to go off-route for search of water. The walk down the 0.6 mile road was more like a maze and obstacle course as years of downed trees and uprooted trunks combined with the corrosion of erosion had erased an easily navigable path. Using Gaia GPS, we located the spring, which was itself off the abandoned road. It ended up being awesome. An old and wide-barred metal fence surrounded it filled with very nice historical plaques. It turned out that Little Spring was very historic: it was the place where C. Hart Merriam in the late 1800s came and camped. It was here he formulated the concept of “Life Zones.” As the altitude of an area increases, the types of dominant plant, temperatures, and climate also change in response, such as an increase of altitude almost correlates to moving in latitudes towards the poles. This was a truly historic site for the field of ecology. We filled up water from the dripping spring that was gorgeously clear and made our way back to the trail. With that, we continued descending the peaks, passed over a major forest road, and continued plunging through a thick forest of aspen surrounded by dead ferns brown since last autumn. The land became increasingly arid with the aspen falling away until only ponderosa and juniper remained and the arid grasslands took over. It was crazy how quickly we were able to cover miles; a quick turn around revealed the peaks in all their snowy glory, prominent with the blue skies and white cloud accents. It was freaking beautiful. The heat of the day was really going now and we passed Fenway and Detour sitting by a hiker box and drinking beers left by someone kind. Janna and I continued on having plenty of water hard-won on our backs. The AZT paralleled a forest road and we passed several school buses of middle schoolers out volunteering on a school day to do trail work with the Arizona Trail Association - which was AWESOME. Shallow peaks formed on our rights of old volcanic craters now filled with grasses, shrubs, and solitary pinion pines. The Arizona Trail joined the historic stagecoach route which was now a ROUGH and rocky double track descended through blankets of junipers. We easily covered ground though and by early afternoon we were descending into the wide high plans of Babbitt Ranches. The land is privately held but they have a generous relationship with the AZTA to allow hikers, equestrians, and bikers to pass and camp through their lands. To our left, a large granite cliffside sat while a single storm-burst formed and expelled wind, rain, and snow from nowhere on us before evaporating and leaving a large faint rainbow arcing across the plains. It was stunningly beautiful and totally different than anything we had yet seen. The wind began to pick up as evening approached. We left the gnarly-rocky doubletrack to take a side-route up a hill to East Cedar Tank - a reliable water source. There, we found Bilbo again! He had camp setup and was enjoying the immense views for miles and miles into the open grasslands and small cinder cone volcanic hills stretching into the distance. We setup camp with him. Detour, and three other thru-hikers showed up in late evening with the last light of day almost already gone. Our entire group sat and ate dinner together, laughing and sharing stories. Turned out these new hikers were covering 30-40 miles a day. Insane. With the night fully here, everyone got into their shelters as a fierce wind roared across the plains and pummeled our shelter. Most people were bivying in the cold and the slap of their bag fabrics filled the air. The Triplex shuttered under the uninhibited wind, so I jammed some earplugs in and snuggled deep, grateful to walk from the subalpine zone to grassland deserts in a single day. Despite being inside a building with all the comforts of a bed, I slept terrible for some reason and woke up with a headache. We packed up with a sense of exhaustion, the calm of yesterday somehow vacant. Mike drove us to the post office to send our bounce box home before joining us at MartAnne’s for breakfast. A killer place for breakfast in Flagstaff, it sports a massive menu with generous helpings, especially for the hungry hiker. We walk in, grab a seat, and are putting back some fresh-squeezed orange juice, when we here a commotion at a table over. I look over and see a group of older looking people all staring at us hardcore, very directly, and then talking excitedly together. It’s then that we hear a: Forrest? Janna? It’s Bilbo!!!! We haven’t seen him since south of Tucson!!! He’s there with Junco, his wife, and several other thru-hikers. We all get up and give hugs. Both Janna and I are so heartwarmed to see him. Turns out, everybody is heading back out on the trail today and we just all happened to eat at the same breakfast place. All of us begin to eat ravenously large breakfast burritos and chilaquiles, aware that this will be the last hot food until the Grand Canyon. Filled to the brim, we all take a photo together before exchanging plans for the next few days and heading out. Mike (are we ever so grateful for you!) drives us to the outskirts of town back at the Elden Pueblo Ruins parking lot. We wave goodbye as he heads back to work. Our packs our heavy with food (trail hunger has fooled us into carrying SO MUCH more than necessary on this part, lol), and we jump a wooden fence to rejoin the trail. The Arizona Trail heads up towards the flanks of Mount Elden before splitting off a reroute. Flagstaff, along with the rest of the state, is undergoing a massive effort to curb potential future wildfire by thinning all national forests to pre-European levels (before extensive fire suppression). Although the trail proper heads further up the mountain, there is heli-logging going on top - literally loggers on top thinning tree stands and then a helicopter hovering, wrapping, and hoisting the trees away. In an effort to not kill anyone by the unlikely dropping of a tree, all the trails in the area have been closed or rerouted during operations. With that, Janna and I head around the mountain circumventing the process where we clearly can see helicopters carrying trees away - which is mind-blowing to view. We come around a bend and a guy is walking towards us marking flags along the route for an upcoming running race. He excitedly tells us that we are near a parking lot where he just pulled up and parked 5 minutes ago and saw a mountain lion that hid behind a boulder. Super alert, Janna and I continue past him, looking all around us for signs of the cougar. We’re not too worried though as there are tons of deer to serve as more suitable prey in the area. The reroute joins an old double track and powerline road deep in the ponderosa woods and turns straight up a rotund flank of the San Francisco Peaks. It’s an arduous climb up and down rolling hills on repeat. As we walk, big thunderheads begin to build overhead. The weather had originally called for bluebird skies all day, but such is the nature of mountains. The clouds darkened, the sky winced. We kept moving, watching the gray turn black. Then…bam! A crackle of thunder as lightning lit the scene. We immediately left the open powerline road to shelter away from metal in the even height of trees. The rain came down for a few minutes and then ceased fairly quickly. After 15 minutes, the lightning was gone, the thunder choked up, and we returned to our route. Shortly thereafter, we ran into a biker on Salsa El Mariachi who was racing the AZT 750. We talked about Industry 9 hubs he was sporting before he moved on, back to his race. The undulating hills continued up and down repeatedly. It rained again, and we opted just to leave rain gear on as temperatures dropped. Finally, past the no-entry zone for timber harvesting, we regained the AZT. We wound through the woods on the singletrack making up a circumference of the mountain where my jaw dropped at the impact of the harvest. Just last fall, I had done a massive gravel and singletrack mountain bike ride around the entirety of the peaks down this very section. Instead of thick trees, it was sparse singletons. I’ll support what science says here but the visual impact was a bit disappointing. Around this time, my headache began to creep back up and Janna and I decided to eat and take a break since we were making good time. Laying on our packs, a thru-hiker named Detour came hiking up. After a brief conversation, she pushed on, and us the same. We played leapfrog with her for several miles, each of us getting ahead and then taking a break to kick back and eat - no one in a rush. As afternoon came on, the trail crossed Snowbowl road and began an ascent up towards the ski resort. As elevation topped 9,000 feet, the biome began to change as vegetation took on a stronger alpine look. Gone where homogenous ponderosa stands; now stood aspen, firs, and spruce. All deciduous lacked their leaves as spring had yet to bring bloom in the alpine. Snow lay packed in the woods, some of the biggest patches we had yet seen on the trail in total. And there it was: the 600 mile marker. We were 75% done. Pictures taken, we pushed upwards as thick soil made up the A horizon. The smell of decomposing organic material mixed with snow, pine, and plant matter. The trail curved and I stopped. A wave of nausea and my morning headache returned full force. I took some acetaminophen which kicked in thankfully. In late evening’s light, we left the trail, hiking through the snow, and exited the forest into a giant prairie making up the slopes of Humphrey’s Peak. Down below, Alfa Fia tank glowed with the setting sun. There was Bilbo! He was setup in the woods and enjoying his evening dinner. We talked to him for a bit before we walked up and found a nice flat and sheltered spot next to a fallen aspen. Detour soon exited the woods and camped down near the tank. We filtered water in the frosty evening, temperatures already approaching freezing. We ate dinner and watched a STUNNING sunset. The adjoining peaks silhouetted, the grass golden, and the clouds providing depth. Best sunset ever for eating dinner. Janna and I woke up to the inside of the Triplex completely rigid with iced condensation. That’s the thing about single-walled shelters - they boast awesome weights but condensation is always an issue. Especially when cold freezes it into sheets. But this time, the sheet of ice was also on the outside from the rain turned frozen last night. Slipping out into the daylight, we hiked for a while before finding a wildlife tank with fence we jumped. After getting water, we walked down the trail which stuck to the edge of the plateau paralleling Walnut Canyon below. And with the signature of a sign, we officially entered Walnut Canyon National Monument. The cliff dwellings are situated down in the canyon via access by the National Monument entrance. We had talked previously about going there, but (since we already have) our time table was tight today, we crossed the main road, and continued on the AZT towards Flagstaff. Janna and I had calculated out exactly how many days we needed to complete for us to be picked up in time by Darren at the Utah border and still be able to get her back in time for returning to work at her school. Given the distance left, our daily pace, and the number of days left, we had decided back in Pine that we couldn’t afford any more Zero Days. We would need to hike everyday to get the whole trail done on time. Today, we were doing a Nero, heading to Flagstaff and getting there early (still doing miles), but taking the afternoon off to rest and relax. No Zero, just a Nero, and we would be back on trail tomorrow morning. To maximize our rest/recovery today, we wanted to get to Flagstaff as early as possible to provide more hours for our legs to recover by sitting and consuming as much food as possible. The Arizona Trail continued through the pines but then turned northwest, exiting the park and slowly entering the high grasslands west of Flagstaff. Pine gave way to juniper, juniper gave way to grass and shrub. Eventually, the trail turned north and approached Route 66. Two culvert tunnels underneath both sections brought us to the other side where the Arizona Trail abruptly turned east and headed back towards Flagstaff. By now, the San Francisco Peaks were in full view - massive and growing bigger with every step. It was so nice as the blue skies of morning held. For the past several days it seems we had been rained on intermittently once morning had passed. The sun was out in full force and we welcomed the warmth. Heading towards Flagstaff, we ran into a retiree thru-hiker named Junco. His love of birds was emanated in his trail name. A native of Flagstaff, he gushed about living there. He bid us on and hoped to see us again on the trail. We pushed ahead, paralleling Route 66 and its corresponding railroad where several train rushed ahead of us. The trees began to appear again as we gained the flanks of the peaks. The route took us on the urban trails route, crossing us first by the city landfill, and then up a canyon and across a flat with great views of peaks. We crossed under a culvert and popped out at Elden Pueblo Ruins near the parking lot. With that, we walked across Route 66 and beelined it for the Marathon gas station there. All I wanted was ice cream. I purchased two monster ice cream cones and sat outside on the chewing gum-filled concrete sidewalk, happily putting back the calories while calling for a Lyft. The Lyft driver showed up and we apologize for our smell and appearance, requesting a trip to drop us off at REI. Once there, it was time for us to switch shoes as the rough granite had destroyed my Hokas. Plus, my feet had been swelling laterally leading to the blood blisters on the top of my big toes. I loved the cushion and wanted some cushion, but alas Altra Olympus were out of stock. I got some Lone Peaks instead, which did just fine the rest of the trail and Janna got a new pair too. As I was trying them on, I saw a man race over to the shoes. He was frantic, disheveled, wearing an ultrarunning vest and a bike helmet. I ran over to him and asked him if he was racing the AZT 750. Dude…this guy was in first place. He was literally running in here to get new shoes because he blew out holes where his toes are on his cycling shoes. I had never seen that on cycling shoes before. Plus, he knew he was going to have to cross the grand canyon and wanted something he could hike in. He grabbed some La Sportiva Bushidos and wished us luck. I grabbed a quick photo with him (see photo below) before he ran out the door to rejoin the race and attempt to keep his first place position. Our new shoes secured (and our old pairs with holes and destroyed tread thrown away), we headed out to the parking lot to be picked up by Esther. Man was it good to see her. She picked us up and we all went over to Red Curry downtown for some large salads and excellent vegan veggie rolls and curry. Stuffed, she dropped us at Safeway so we could make our next resupply before our last one at the Grand Canyon. We grabbed more ice cream there (my muscles were aching for calories) and Mike picked us up to take us back to their place. Once there, we showered FOREVER in HOT water. It was simply amazing after the cold rain the past several days. Afterwards, we all sat in the living room talking about life and exchanging stories. As evening came on, the four of us headed downtown to Annex for burgers and drinks. Some of my former students and now college attendees (Catherine, Ana, and Malleni) came to meet us. It was great to catch up, have long conversations about life, and see everyone again while eating unholy amounts of food. Stuffed and content with chance to connect, we headed back to Esther and Mike’s place. Despite the late hour, Janna and I still had to wash and clean gear, do laundry, repackage food, and prep for the next section. Up until nearly midnight, we finally crawled into bed later than we had stayed up in weeks, exhausted but satisfied. Another below-freezing morning greeted us so we again got moving right away to keep warm before stopping to eat breakfast. The Arizona Trail through this section continued to be predominately flat. It essentially follows the path of the old rail line that timber companies used in the early 20th century. Here and there, old timber-cut pieces of rail ties would surface in the trail or sit alongside it, outlining the former line. Old rail gravel and chunked out volcanic rock formed borders on either side of the slightly raised path cut straight through the woods. After several miles (and some interesting historic signage from the USFS), it was warm enough to stop and eat on some boulders. For the past several weeks, I had switched to eating straight-up Frosted Mini-Wheats for breakfast. Oatmeal, despite years of trust, had become sick to my palate. Mini-Wheats were golden. Tons of fiber and sweet, they filled me up and got me going. I usually chased them with a peanut butter packet I stored in my crotch for warm keeping in the morning chill. We began to cross a series of grasslands meadows interspersed in the woods. Entering one, we got our first long-view of the San Francisco Peaks and notable, Humphrey’s Peak in the distance. The old supervolcanic crater rim stood caked in a deep winter snow. Stretching to 12,600 feet, these mountains are the highest points in Arizona. I’ve summited them several dozen times from multiple approaches. But to see them now, to know that we had hiked to them, that we would be going up them on the AZT, filled us with awe. They were another reminder of the distance we had traveled. More-so, the peaks were stunning with their snow-capped framing on the horizon. As we crossed the field, we got reception and checked in with our families. I checked on Instagram to see if Legend had set the AZT record. He just had, the day before: 15 days, 13 hours, and 10 minutes. An insane unsupported record. He reported doing crazy miles through deep snow on the Kaibab plateau/north rim still ahead of us. By now, the blue skies of early morning were quickly being replaced by the gray skies of rain and storms. A few miles more, and we plopped out on Lake Mary Road near Flagstaff. As we did, a road cyclist came biking up the shoulder dressed in neon yellow. We paused to let him pass but he rode right over to us and excitedly introduced himself. His name was Gil Gillenwater and it turns that he was the first person to ever thru-hike the AZT, back in 1982 before the trail was completed or established (according to the AZTA website). In the 80s, he and his brother decided that they could walk across Arizona using trails and forest roads they were both familiar with. Over a series of months they were successful; and when the AZT was completed, they reached out to the Arizona Trail Association with a documentation of their route (which roughly hewed the current trail) and were recognized as the first people to be “Trail Completers.” Gil was excited to meet us as AZT thru-hikers, and fellow lovers of cycling. We spoke for quite awhile about our experiences, thoughts, and reflections on the trail. Serendipity to walk across the state and pop out on a highway in front of one of the first people to complete the route you walked. Gil gave us his contact info and cycled away while we crossed the highway and headed back into the woods. Fired up on that meeting, we crisscrossed up a hill. As we hit the top, we came upon some trail magic. There were several cans of Coca-Cola, bottled water, and some Powerade. Janna was more than enthused. She was like, “YESSSSSSSSSS” for the pop. I decided to join her in taking in the rare drinking of soda that I do. We placed them in our packs and decided to save them for lunch. We got walked and the hill eventually came out on a high plateau covered with juniper and pine. The sky overhead looked like imminent train with clouds rolling over each other in a gray soup. The wind picked up on top and we donned rain jackets for a combo of warmth and wet protection. After another mile or so of hiking, we came upon a large lake next to some rutted double track the AZT had joined. Humphrey’s Peak loomed large and ice-capped in the distance. It was beautiful so we definitely had to eat here. We sat in the gray gloom enjoying the mountain views and chugged back some Coke. I immediately regretted it. That shit never makes me feel good afterwards, and I wished I had taken the Powerade instead. Janna on the other end…pumped. She loved that stuff. We ate until it began raining and got moving. The trial remained flat but rutted in the clay. We passed by a second lake fenced to keep cows from ruining the shores, but a cow skull lay there regardless. Now, the trail kept to the wide and high plateau and turned directly towards the peaks. A bikepacker same riding by, his bike the same as my own - a Surly Karate Monkey. We talked to the guy who turned out to have been racing the AZT 750, but quit due to a mechanical failure that put him so far behind he decided it wasn’t worth it to continue. Now, he had driven ahead here to take a few days to bikepack the area and take in the sites. The wind was still kicking as we walked across the grassy plain interspersed with low-hung clouds. To our left and down below the plateau, Lake Mary stretched elongated with the winding road paralleling. We were high above the road and lake but with excellent views. The trail took us near an observatory on the lone mesa before spilling us out towards another series of lakes with old wood fencing to keep cows out. The trail then moved into the woods over several miles slowly descending to a large plain. Near the bottom, we came upon a large jug of water left for AZT thru-hikers as the water in the lakes was noted as “contaminated” according to the Flagstaff District. We filled up, ate a bunch of food, and crossed over a dirt road past a field and into the pines again. Torn deer and elk legs law strewn about - evidence of some predator in the area. After miles more of walking through rocky volcanic hillsides, evening began to approach. I REALLY wanted to get to Walnut Canyon before it was dark. We had visited Walnut Canyon National Monument a few years before and loved the preserved cliff dwellings. Although the AZT doesn’t go into the National Monument proper, it does enter the lower Walnut Canyon with its legendary rose-colored sandstone walls. Our food was pre-soaked and around 5:00, we decided to have dinner trailside before pushing on. Eating quickly, I pushed for us to keep going lest the dark ruin the opportunity to see the canyon. The trail began a long descent into the canyon. As evening’s darkness brushed the light aside, the pastel walls rose up beside us. It was stunning. Literally in the bottom of the canyon, the setting sun was providing even better lighting to take it all in. We took a ton of pictures as a beautiful sunset with sun unseen left the clouds overhead red, orange, and pink with the dying light. We walked up the canyon floor, me stopping to take picture after picture of the sky colors and the soft colored rock walls. You know that moment when life unfolds in a way that catches your adrenaline so well that there is no where else you’d rather be? That was me. A sunset in a northern AZ canyon. Colored earth and ceiling. Blending as twilight erased the horizon. We stood in the canyon even as full darkness settled to suck up the last hues. Now fully in the darkness, we had to climb out of Walnut Canyon as no camping is allowed down in there. Donning lights, we started switchbacking up the AZT for another mile or two until, looking for a good spot to setup camp away from wind and with some weather protection in case it stormed tonight. We found a thicket of pine on a knoll back on the opposing plateau. Pushing through the trees, we found a great site flat and protected by vegetation. Setting up camp, we walked back out to the trail to eat some snacks in the dark before setting up our Ursacks. The wind picked up and we got back to the Triplex, getting inside just moments before it began to rain in earnest. Even sleeping high above the tanks couldn’t shake the cold this morning. Tendrils of frost crept down and laced the entire area with white dust. It was crazy cold. We packed up quickly and decided we would eat after we had a few miles under our feet and the day had warmed up a bit. Climbing down the hill towards Maxie Tank, we ran into the two bikepackers who were also up and packing up their shelter. Turns out they were Australians who wanted to do the Great Divide but realized their time in America was too early in the season for a proper go. They had switched to the Arizona Trail which they described as “incredibly hard.” Janna and I parted from them, joking we would see them again shortly. The trail was singletrack that crossed a large open meadow before switchbacking through a forest where we saw two separate herds of elk and a coyote. As the sun finally crept its way up in a thawing fashion, the Arizona Trail joined an old fenced road and deposited us near a parking lot where two old men sat in chairs next to the trail register. Turns out they were volunteering for the Arizona Trail Association and were setting up for the day. They asked us questions about the trail, and then Janna and I pushed into the woods ahead of us. Lake Mary Road suddenly appeared on our lefts as a few cars drove by. The Australian bikepackers passed us and we waved goodbye. They let us know that the AZT 750 race had started and that we could expect to see bikepacking racers any day now as the lead pack set pace from the south to the north. Janna and I walked until we crossed Lake Mary Road and the trail began to trace a number of large marshes and lakes in the woods. A cacophony of bird cries indicative of a spread of species rose from the waters and shores. The trail joined a forest dirt road and paced back and forth next to several small lakes, marshes, and lakes all surrounded by tall ponderosas over the next several miles. By noon, after passing through miles of further ponderosa pines, we hit 10 miles and came to the trail junction for Navajo Spring Trail. We decided to take the 1 mile spur to Mormon Lake where the small general store and community lay. The trail followed the wash of the spring including a fenced off portion to prevent deer from grazing on baby aspens. A sign reported how the exploding ungulate population was leads to a decline of new aspens as trees were stripped of bark and leaves in youth. The USFS had placed fencing around sections of the forest to encourage vegetative growth. Passing an old water trough filled with ice, the day began to heavily cloud over. a strong wind blew and the forest felt like the still of winter. Small snow banks lay alongside the trail. After a mile that felt like forever, we tumbled out in Mormon Lake Lodge. We passed from the back to the front and the community was nestled around us. Mormon Lake was mostly a collection of RV park, cabins, a few small restaurants, general store, and local campground set against large Mormon Lake (waterway proper). No one was out and all the restaurants were still closed in this early season. However, the General Store was open. We went in, secured a resupply box we had sent with dehydrated beans, and then plundered the store for microwave pizzas, Drumstick ice cream cones, sandwiches, and more. They allowed us a small table against the coffee area along a wall. We sat with our steaming microwave meals and ate a sinful number of calories. My leg muscles soaked them up; they didn’t even hit my stomach. Electronics charging, we spent a solid two hours enjoying the warmth. We refilled on hand sanitizer for our backcountry bidet kits and secured some wifi. Both my double pairs of socks now had holes in them, leading to blister beneath a callus on the top of my toe. I got on Amazon and quickly sent a pair to our friends’ (Esther and Mike) house in Flagstaff. As early afternoon rolled in, we decided it was time to go as storm clouds built overhead. Donning rain jackets, we sat on the porch and disgorged our resupply boxes. Two thru-hikers (Mike and Noemi) walked up and we talked to them briefly before pushing on. As we left, a freezing drizzle started to fall. Walking back up Navajo Trail, the wind licked the trees sideways and sent a deep shiver within. It felt and looked like November. Several miles of walking along the AZT brought us by old historic timber operations with detailed history signs provided by the USFS. The gray skies began spitting both hail and snow for a bit before stopping. We passed below Mormon Mountain lot and walked over a bridge into a forest with several gorgeous stream crossings and hand-built bridges. We passed through a forest service campground (also closed for the season) and found paw-prints of coyotes and a massive one of a mountain lion (see photo below). The trail went up a small ridge where we were afforded views of the swirling gray clouds overhead. We pushed ahead for miles and miles through sloped woods where we saw a second coyote trailside that took off and looked at us for a long time. Eventually, the land began to level off as evening approached and we hit Mayflower Spring. The woods looked thick with pine-needles, the ground relatively flat, and the trees strong with no widowmakers. Given the wind and sputtering rain, this seemed a good place to camp for the night. We explored for a bit after filling up water and found the torn apart remains of an elk from a mountain lion kill. After eating dinner, we sat around while a thru-hiker came up. Turns out he had been hiking since 3 in the morning and had covered 40 miles today. He was a doctor who had a limited time off and was doing the whole AZT by hiking nearly 40 miles a day. We were mind-blown at the distances he was traveling daily, but he lamented the speed and said he would love to have more time to relax and sit as we were. He had miles to go tonight and wanted to get as close to Flagstaff as possible. We ate up a hill in the dark, the cold slowly wrapping around us. Filled with food from today (my muscles grateful), we climbed into the Triplex as rain spattered the shelter and a very cold night set in. We slept in late after a hard sleep all night. It was nearly 7 am when we woke up. After getting more silt-dusted water for breakfast, a southbound thru-hiker came upon us. We talked about the trail ahead - mostly learning that there were just miles of trees. After the AZT left Jack’s Canyon and its adjoining wash, the trail became a rocky mess with clumps of volcanic pumice. But, the few miles of rocks eventually gave in to easier terrain. Tank after tank of water was gloriously clear so there as no need to filter cow shit. The largest ponderosa pine forest in the world can be a homogenous place. The relatively flat terrain let us easily cover 23.6 miles. The views were basically stand after stand after stand of ponderosa pine. Around mid-day, we came upon a beautiful tank filled with a chorus of frogs. A truck parked near a dirt forest road had a hunter out collecting deer and elk racks. Shortly thereafter, we ran into Blue Skies, a thru-hiker cover 30+ miles a day. In early afternoon, the trail slowly went up a rise to 7,500 feet where we saw large patches of snow. Green grass pushing through the ground spoke to late spring in the high country. After a slight descent over several miles we came out into a large field with power line towers. The wind picked up and blew coldly and powerfully across the field. We stopped at a spring forming a pool and small stream where frogs called to grab some water. The trail moved into the forest past gorgeous green fields with towering pines. A large herd of elk broke into a run between the trees. The sun filtered sideways through the trees setting the whole forest into golden light. Small ponds and snowmelt sat in areas, encouraging the growth of new plant life. After carefully walking through mucky and deep mud in double track, we approached a series of small tanks set in the woods. A herd of tree trotted up the trail in front of us. One tank was in a small flat valley with a rise nearby. We walked up the hill and found a flat area in some trees on top. There, we setup camp with a beautiful view into the tanks and grassy trees below. Two bikepackers riding the Arizona Trail showed up and setup camp in the valley below. We ate dinner and watched streaks of red light up the sky in the evening light. Cold clamored toward us and we snuggled in our quilts. We woke to the rushing sounds of the East Verde River. Slowly, we pulled ourselves out of our quilts and into the cold morning. While eating breakfast, a bunch of birders pulled up at the nearby parking lot and pulled out binoculars to check out the ornithological scene. Back on trail, we crossed a bridge over the Verde River (only a rushing stream here) and noted the abundant biodiversity. The AZT now split from the Highline; the Highline continued east while the AZT turned north and ascended one of the few “easy” passes up the Mogollon Rim. We closely kept to the river, small waterfalls and narrow channels frequently occurring. Ferns grew abundantly in some sections of the woods. The forest was verdant and swelling with life. Eventually, the AZT joined up with some doubletrack. I’ve heard legendary tales of this section for bikepackers. Officially, the AZT mountain bike route follows this doubletrack up and over the pass onto the top of the Colorado Plateau. But’s gnarly, CRAZY steep, and chock full of boulders. I’ve heard that it can sometimes take longer to bike up this section than it would be hike. Fortunately, the AZT left the doubletrack and began switchbacking up a slope nearby. I turned around frequently to catch my last views of central Arizona. The land began to fold in around us. Back and forth all morning until we rejoined the doubletrack. Steeper and steeper, we passed an old abandoned railroad tunnel and suddenly, we were on top of the Mogollon Rim. Standing on a small rise looking north, the immensity of the Colorado Plateau hit me. Hundreds of miles of relatively unbroken ponderosa pine forest before us. At 7,000 feet in elevation, this section of the Arizona Trail is notorious for being flat, dusty, fast-to-cover, easy in some ways, and sometimes monotonous for its unbroken level expanse of pine trees. But I was excited now. We were in a new biome with all new life to see. We passed by a plaque describing the Battle of Big Dry Wash where European colonists/settlers were killed by Apaches. A person had spray-stenciled “Settlers had it coming” over the plaque. Indigenous protest at Eurocentric commemoration - well placed and of some valuable worth to consider. We walked along the road which passed by several snow drifts, our first since the Rincons back in southern Arizona outside Tucson. Small snowmelt streams filled the dished-out meadows in areas. The historic site of General Springs Cabin came into view and we stopped to walk inside and check it out. At this point, the miles came easy and fast. The trail broke off from the road and plunged solely into the woods. It wound past granite boulders and down smooth valleys with small streams. We climbed over snowpack sections here and there, but nothing too intense. Eventually the trail entered a canyon where at the bottom a significant slow and crystal clear stream flowed. We crossed the stream easily, admiring the gorgeous curves of the wooded canyon at high elevation. The Arizona Trail traced the river for several more miles, winding in and out of it. At some point, it broke away from the steam and climbed a hill back out of the canyon. The AZT wound through the flat woods with slight inclines for miles. We stopped when we wanted, enjoying the abundance of shade. At points, it joined random forest roads and double track for a mile or two before returning to singletrack in the woods. We startled a large herd of elk in the woods that took off running. In and out of the trees, we passed by an official forest service campground not yet open for the season. It bathrooms and trashcans sat locked from the snows of winter. The trail became encrusted with rough hewn volcanic rock that slowed us intermediately. The steams kept coming and the trees stood always. We crossed a paved highway, entered some golden grasslands, and plunged right back into the woods. We passed a muddy cattle tank - our preplanned stopping point for the day. However, a Guthook comment indicated that a possible stream ahead in Jack’s Canyon had ample clean water. Avoiding cow shitwater is a must. I easily convinced Janna and we wound up and over a small rise and descended for several miles into a wooded wash that grew into a sandy but dry stream. Firmly in Jack’s Canyon, we were comfortable covering the extra miles in the easy terrain but dark was coming on and no water was visible. At this point, my legs began to get tired. Regret soured my choice to push forward as this comment seemed way off base and we had barely any water left. The streams were plentiful all day until we were miles from one. Rounding a corner, we decided to find camp nearby and just get up early and find some water. I started scouting a site in the near dark while Janna looked ahead. She came running back saying she checked the wash ahead in Jack’s Canyon and found one dusty pool. Literally, a layer of dust covered the water. We drank up the silt-flavored water and setup camp in a field nearby under a few ponderosa pines. Eating in the absolute dark, some wild turkeys called nearby and a male elk began screaming/calling in the dark a few hundred feet away. What a change in wildlife. Gone were the low desert species. Now it was all Rocky Mountain material. Exhausted, we climbed into the Triplex as temperatures dipped very cold at 7,000+ feet and the wind whipped up. But a bed of pine needles beneath our bodies always softens my body for sleep no matter what conditions are outside. We slept in until mid-morning, enjoying one last day in the cabin. There was a certain sense of safety. Gone were the imminent feelings of needing to move before the Sun got high in the sky and cooked us in the desert. We were at the base of the Mogollon Rim. We were at the cusp of northern Arizona. Water should be more plentiful - the trees would be thick and protective. Saddling that idea in our heads drove home a desire to start the day slow. The Early Bird Cafe called to us for breakfast so we walked there. I ordered probably the largest spread of breakfast I had ever had in my life. I couldn’t even eat it all that’s how much this place made. As we sat there, another man a booth over kept looking at us. He came over, introduced himself as Carl, and told us he was a thru-hiker with an ankle injury. Carl was staying in town to heal up for a week or two and wanted to know if he could treat us to a car ride back to the trailhead. We happily obliged. He picked us up with our gear and dropped us down at the Pine Trailhead outside of town. On trail by 9:30 am, the day was indeed hot. We weren’t yet ascending the Mogollon Rim. Instead, Janna and I would be tracing the bottom of the rim eastward on the Highline Trail. We’ve hiked pretty far on the eastern portion of the Highline Trail outside of Payson, but this would be the first time we were this far westward. The Highline passes through some gorgeous spaces, a blend interface between Colorado Plateau and central Arizona highlands. As we started out from the parking lot, making sure to sign the trail register, we plunged into the red dirt. It was amazing how hospitable the trail was now - large ponderosa pines, abundant springs, and easy/flat terrain. We moved to cover quick miles. The views were spectacular. It honestly reminded me of Sedona where rim buttes thick with sanguine dust clashed with evergreen colors. The trail wound in and out of curves in the rim wall. Midway through the morning, we ran into two backpackers finishing up the Highline westwardly. They were on their “Refirement” instead of “retirement” because they wanted to burn their lives bright. Inspired by their perspective, we pushed on, sometimes on exposed bushy slopes and often in ponderosa forests. We crossed several streams and saw a large Scout troop out camping/backpacking. The trail took us deeper in the woods, slowly ascending. It then exited onto a high red dirt plateau with juniper and agave growing starkly. Truly Sedona-esque. We wound back into the woods and passed a past burn area. Mile markers noted our continued distance from both Mexico and Utah. The sun passed in the sky and the evening rolled in. The views of the Mazatzals in the distance complimented the green expanse of pine forests stretching before us. We arrived at Washington Park trailhead near dusk. The rushing waters of the East Verde river flowed nearby. We setup our Triplex in the darkness and sat back to relax. An old chained forest road nearby served as an excellent place to eat dinner and watch the stars overhead. This was the first day I KNEW I could finish the trail, that my knee wouldn’t hold me back. I went to bed looking forward to the climb tomorrow into the largest continuous stand of ponderosa pine forest in the world. |