Day 29. March 29. Mile 370.8 to 386.5

Day 29. March 29. Mile 370.8 to

Day 29. Wednesday, March 29. From Mile 370.8, elev. 5865, to Mile 386.5, elev. 3436. Walked 15.7 miles, 1507 ft up, 3931 ft down, total grade 337.5 ft/mile. 

Dear Trail Friends,

I am writing today during my second rest stop. It is 1:45pm and I am sitting beside a lovely stream listening to the music it makes near what I think is a cottonwood tree. Some birds are accompanying the stream with occasional calls. 

This has been a special day so far. It was a relief to walk quite a few miles on road with its nice even tread - I could fall into a stride and reverie and did not have to focus every minute on the trail. My first 5 miles took 2 1/4 hours - very different from yesterday. 

Then when I left the road for a single track trail I had a powerful experience of becoming a part of the environment again. Like diving into a lake. I realized that the reason the road seemed lonely to me was that it was a wide swath of civilization carved into the environment. When I walked on it I was separate from the world around me. The trail though man made follows the contours and textures and composition of the environment closely. There is not a sense for me of separation. When I was a girl and doubted that I wAs loved, it was when I descended into the wild canyon near our house, or crawled into the shade under a juniper shrub, that I felt no doubt about being loved. 

Photo 2 shows the beauty I felt again part of not separate from as I turned onto the trail. 

 

The morning was cool and windy. Even after my first rest stop when I began walking about 10am I kept my jacket on. Then suddenly at 11 I was hot. I took off my jacket and decided to try my new sun umbrella for the second time. It worked beautifully. I fell in love with it. Even dipping and turning to dodge branches was fun. When it did strike a branch, it spun a little in a way that made me think of aikido, how one moves always with not in opposition to the other. (It is the peaceful martial art. The goal is to keep both oneself and one's assailant safe. ) here is me with my wonderful moveable shade. Photo 2. 

 

I also had my first encounter with cat claw impinging on the trail. When I could, I gave it lots of space but when it grew into the trail from two directions I thrust forward my sticks to part the thorny waters  and passed through unhurt. A happy surprise after stories I had heard (and my own experience). Here's a photo 3 of cat claw so you can I hope see the tiny thorns.

 

Oh one more photo taken this morning. I titled it "tree, rock, shadow."

 

Now I am in my tent. The statistics show it was an easy 15 miles - most of it downhill, and not as steep a grade as the last couple of days. I was really beginning to relax and enjoy my new 15 miles a day plan. 

The only photo I took was of this tangle of dumped cars thst look like they have been used for target practice. A reminder that this wilderness I walk exists in very close relationship with civilization. I could not figure out how the junked cars got there. I saw no road anywhere. A mystery. Not exactly spring flowers but a kind of blossoming. 

 

Then of course in the afternoon I found myself at a genuinely scary creek crossing and unable to locate the trail. This shook me up a bit and I spent a half hour consulting my gps and maps before finding the trail and choosing a place where I did successfully cross without wet shoes or a fall. The next drama was - will I find a tentsite? The terrain was not promising and I found it both exciting and scary to wonder what if I didn't find one? When a site appeared, slightly hidden from the trail behind brush and dead trees, I felt thrilled. Some people just smile and say "the trail provides." I'm not that kind of a true believer but this is Day 28 and with the exception of my few nights in hotels and peoples' homes, I've found a site every single night. 

Tomorrow is uphill and the whole rest of this section is classified as "strenuous" which is as I understand it the rating beyond "difficult."  So we will see how my 15 miles feel on a strenuous hike. 

Thanks as always for walking with me and thank you so much those of you who have responded in comments or by email. 

Day 28. March 28. Mile 355.8 to Mile 370.8

Day 28. Tuesday March 28. From Mile 355.8, elev. 4319 ft, to mile 370.8, elev. 5865. Walked exactly 15 miles, 3943 ft up, 2481 ft down. Total grade 428.4 ft/mi. 

Dear Trail Friends,

It was an up and down day both in terms of the walk and in terms of my mood. 

It was fun having my tent nearby Larry and Marcella last night. After the rain Larry was outside his tent and he told me the sky was perfectly clear and he could see the stars. "I've heard of it raining when the sun is out" he said "but I've never heard of it raining when the stars are out."

I woke up at 4am and did all my morning stuff (drink my protein drink + coffee, start breakfast hydrating, pack up my sleeping bag, put on my socks, lift my pack and food bag and emergency bag out of the tent, roll up and pack my deflated air mattress, take down my tent, pack my backpack - air mattress and sleeping bag at the bottom, then food bag and emergency bag (which includes all my health and gear "repair" stuff - an emergency blanket, ultralight towels, needle and thread, lots of tape - duct, gorilla, physiology, leukotape - moleskin, antibiotic ointment, fungicide, etc. ) oops that's parentheses within parentheses you are going to be as lost in this sentence as I get on the trail - I'm even lost in it to tell you the truth - and then, we are packing the backpack, remember, my clothes stuff sack smooshed in front of the food and emergency bags, the tent bag on top of that and, if I am carrying more than the two half liter bottles that ride on my shoulder pouches, a 2-liter bottle of water wrapped in a heavy duty plastic bag (to slow down spillage in case of a leak) which bag doubles as a doormat for my tent. 

So I did all that, hoisted my pack and set off walking at 5am. I had my head lamp on and my iPhone propped in my shirt front pocket so it's light was on the trail. I had to use the sternum strap of my pack to pin back my layers - over my shirt my tiny lime green down puffy, black merino wool underwear (worn as over wear), turquoise synthetic puffy jacket - so they didn't cover the iPhone light. 

First challenge: find the trail. I had arrived late exhausted and seen my friends tent and crossed the stream to camp beside them without noticing where the trail went. Between gps and iPhone light I am happy to report that we found the trail. 

But the trail was hard. It was hard and it was uphill and I was slow. I think I went a half mile in the first hour. I started to get depressed. I am so weak and slow that I'm not going to be able to go even 15 miles a day. I'm not going to be able to make a plan. My body is getting old and feeble and unpredictable. Unlike on the PCT where I got faster and stronger with every hike, here I am just getting weaker. My hiking days are over. And so on. Maybe you know how to amplify worries? 

I stopped at 5 miles (which took me 4 hours - do the math, in 12 hours of daylight I could never hike 15 miles and have any rests or breaks) and ate my black beans and rice (with coconut milk powder, peanut powder, dehydrated homemade chicken stock, sweet potatoes, peas).  That used to be dinner but for reasons no longer relevant I switched it and now have come to prefer having dinner in the morning and breakfast (chia seeds, oats, dehydrated blueberries and bananas, coconut milk powder, peanut powder, and vanilla protein powder with 2 servings of greens) in the afternoon/evening. These meals might not sound wonderful to you (especially the rehydrating without a stove and eating at ambient temperature) but I assure you they taste divine to me on the trail. 

So I am eating my breakfast and settling into the notion of planning a hike without attachment to outcome, of accepting my weakness and slowness as "enough" and of not letting my attachment to planning and my joy in keeping or surpassing my plans keep me from enjoying the beauty all around me- and along comes another hiker. I ask how far he is going. He says his wife will pick him up at -- (I forget where. He lives in Scottsdale) -- and I say "what then?" And he says "we'll see."  I tell him I am having a terrible time letting go of my plans and facing the reality that I can't do as much as I planned. He says "the trail is a wonderful teacher. " he comments on the clear passage earlier in the morning (recently cleared by a conservation corps group who were camped along the trail) compared with the more recent part with brush encroaching on the trail. 

Hiking through that brush was a challenge. It was pretty strong and when I pushed it out of the way it snapped back and whacked me in the face several times. I kept thinking though how lucky I was that it wasn't cat claw. I had a couple run ins with cat claw - at my tent site and at this very rest spot and truly appreciated that the encroaching plants were not tearing me and my gear to shreds. 

I hiked into and through a beautiful wilderness area called Four Peaks - here they are close up in photo 1. 

 

Roosevelt Lake - a man made Lake created by a dam built under Ted Roosevelt - is immense. I continued to see it behind and below me yesterday and today as in photo 2. 

 

Spring of course continues to surprise me with new blossoms as in collage-photo 3. 

 

By my second rest stop I realized that not every 5 miles was going to take 4 hours (even for poor feeble old me) and that I could probably make my 15 miles. Meanwhile it began to look and smell like rain. Getting out my rain gear is an incredibly complex operation. It lives in a mesh sack which lives in a mesh pouch in the outside of my pack (ingenious, right? When it's wet, it won't get other stuff wet inside the pack). I have to pull the sack out of the pouch (which I also tie it to because I have had stiff fall out of that pouch and get lost. Then I have to loosen the incredibly resistant pull strings of the sack. Then pry the pack cover out of its tiny sack, persuade the pack to let me swaddle it in the cover, clip it on (yes they do fall off and get lost especially in wind and this was turning into a windy day), tighten its pull string. Get out my rain jacket and wrestle it on and try to convince the ultralight zipper that it has a function other than being light. Pull the rain skirt over my head and zip it up and then realize I have it on upside down so try again and then pull the waist draw string. Hoist my pack, figure out a way to buckle the pack so rain jacket and skirt are underneath but waist pack is outside and above backpack belt. And don't forget to push the bandanas clipped to the waist pack inside the pack do they don't get wet. Then try to get the poncho on. This involves persuading the back of the poncho to fall straight and all the way down over the oack so I can grab the little elastic lines and hooks at the waist on the back of the poncho and pull them around to the front and hook them together. Then finally my rain mittens get pulled on over my fingerless gloves and I'm all set to hike in the rain. 

You might think this is a bit much and you would be right. But I have a healthy fear of  - oh darn another word got away - ah! Hypothermia. And one can get drenched and then chilled in a downpour very quickly. Also one's down skeeping bag, if wet, loses all capacity to hold warmth. 

My timing was terrific. Moments later it began to rain and then to hail. Then it stopped. The sun shone. Then it started again just when I was about to make a rest stop at this rare (in Arizona) and beautiful creek (photo 4). 

 

I decided I'd rather rest and eat my afternoon meal safely inside my tent and that's what I did. Stopped hiking early (an unprecedented 5 pm) at exactly 15 miles. Actually had phone visits with both Chris and sister Judy. 

As I was walking up the road (this part of trail was a long walk on a dirt road) I began to notice what a lonely feeling place this was. I wondered how a place could be lonely. All of a sudden it occurred to me that I might be lonely. What a concept. Good thing I have you walking with me or is probably feel that way a lot. 

So photo 5 is a collage of the road and my campsite. You ydecide - is it me, or is this a lonely place?

 

As for me, I am cozy inside my tent. It is dark now and though there are lots of clouds there are also some stars shining through. I am grateful for the warmth of your attention and companionship. Like the morning sun, you illuminate everything. 

See you on the trail tomorrow. 

Day 27. March 27. Mile 345.3 (Roosevelt Lake) to Mile 355.8

Day 27. Monday March 27. From Mile 345.3 (Roosevelt Lake), elevation 2206, to Mile 355.8, elev. 4319.  Walked 10.5 miles, up 3699 ft, down 1664 ft, total grade 513.9 ft/mile. 

Dear Trail Friends,

I slept late and had the pleasure of waking up in daylight. My tent was wet from condensation but it dried quickly as the sun rose over the hills. 

I walked to the visitor center for the Tonto Basin and not only replenished my water with drinkable water from the fountain, but also used their bathroom to rinse and squeeze out dirty socks and underpants. I used their wifi to upload my blog, their electric outlet (shared with a soda machine) to recharge my iPhone, reconnected with Chris by FaceTime and in the end decided to head back yo the trail from there about 10:30am. 

I really didn't feel very excited about walking or being shuttled in the little golf cart shuttle over to the Marina and try to put together a microwaved breakfast. Chances are the choices were various kinds of breakfast burrito, not ideal since I'm trying to minimize gluten by avoiding most all wheat stuff that is not organic or European. The gmo wheat seems very high in gluten and I tend to get tummy aches from it. 

Photo 1 is our tentsite this morning and photo 2 is Larry and Marcella at the tentsite. They took off before I did but we have ended up camping (at the only water and tentsites around as far as I could tell) together again. I enjoy running into them and talking about the trail. Marcella noticed I left my jacket in the women's restroom this morning. I might well have forgotten it and I am very grateful to her. 

 

 

I hear raindrops beginning to fall on my tent as I write. I am thankful this tent does such a good job of keeping me dry in the rain. 

When I began my hike this morning (it was 11am by the time I hiked back to the trail and corrected my usual tendency to go the wrong way) it was hot and a lot of steep ascent which exhausts me. Partly I think very steep hiking requires whole different muscle groups and coordination from hiking a mountain like our Mt Constitution at home. And I haven't trained, I haven't built coordination for that activity. Anyway, I got a chance to try out my new sun umbrella in handsfree mode and I do think it helped. 

I got worried I was hiking too slowly to make it to water and a tentsite and that took care of the illusion of perfect harmony between my body and me.  I realized my new 15-mile a day plan might prove too much for me. I was mad at my body for not being faster and more energetic and my body was mad at me for not being more accepting and appreciative. 

Nevertheless there were moments, particularly after a rest stop and as the day cooled, when I was aware of the immensity of the space I was hiking through and experienced myself as a (small) part of all that surrounded me. Photos 3 and 4 are about those kind of moments. 

 

I also wanted to show you a view looking back at the Marina so you could see the little ramp the shuttle took when it brought us to the Marina bar. Photo 5. We camped. In that parking area in the spot of land just beyond the Marina. 

 

Chris found the poem I was thinking about in yesterday's post. She sent it around to our email list but I know some of you aren't in that list so here is the poem. 

The thistle, the nettle, the burdock, and belladonna

Have a future. Theirs are wastelands

And rusty railroad tracks, the sky, silence.

Who shall I be for men many generations later?

When, after the clamor of tongues, the award goes to silence?

I was to be redeemed by the gift of arranging words

But must be prepared for an earth without a grammar,

For the thistle, the nettle, the burdock, the belladonna,

And a small wind above them, a sleepy cloud, silence.

Czesław Miłosz (1911-2004)

Our friend Adria recognized the essay I was referring to: from Rebecca Solnit's Wanderlust the essay "Walking after midnight: Women, Sex, and Private Space." If you google it I am pretty sure you will find the essay online. 

 Looking ahead to tomorrow I see a lot of steep ascents, but water and tentsites should be fairly manageable. I hope I can relax and listen to music and slip into harmony with my body and the surroundings as I did some this afternoon in the second part of the hike. And I hope that  you can share that experience. 

Day 26. Part 2. March 26. Mile 332.5 to Mile 345.3 (Roosevelt Lake Marina)

Continued from Day 26. Part 1. 

Day 26. Part 2. Sunday, March 26. Mile 232.5 elev. 4796 to Mile 245.3, elevation 2103. Walked 12.8 miles, 1702 ft up, 4585 ft  down. Grade 463.2 ft/mile.  (plus a couple of mostly level miles off trail by accident) 

The morning hike was 8 miles to a water source, Cottinwood Spring. I had a special feeling because someone had pointed out a cottonwood to me earlier and asked if I knew the name of that tree (I didn't). Also the campground in the Grand Canyon that I am going to is called Cottonwood. Here's a picture of the trees around the spring where I had a truly restful and unrushed rest stop. (Photo 5). 

 

I believe the trees with the whitish-greyish bark are the cottonwoods. I ate my meal leaning against the tree in the foreground. Very relaxed and pleasant. 

On the one hand the walk was easy because it was mostly downhill. On the other hand it was very challenging because of the sometimes astonishingly steep almost vertical areas with lots of big and small loose rocks. I fell only once today (twice yesterday) and I have continued to be very very lucky. I just plop down on the ground laughing and get back up. No jnjury. I am very grateful for my good fortune. 

I had seen the Lake from my tentsite perched high on a mountain. But as I hiked it was hard to believe there was a lake in my future (photo 6) until I turned a corner about 2 miles before the lake. (Photo 7)

 

I managed to miss the turn off for the Marina then took a wrong trail and had to walk a mile back on the road. 

The Marina was strange. I was in a big parking lot. No sign of a store. I see a call box and ring and explain I am a hiker looking for my resupply box. The voice says he will come pick me up. I wait. A little shuttle (a golf cart sort of vehicle) arrives and a family gets out. I get in. He drives me across a - I don't know the word, not a road but planks over water like at a dock - to the somewhat distant Marina. There in the open air bar I order a beer and he finds my boxes (most of them) and when I ask he lets me go into the store room and find the missing ones. 

There is an outlet under one of the tables to recharge my backup battery and iPhone and a picnic table to spread out my resupply stuff and repack it. I replace my disintegrating shoulder and belt pouches with new ones I ordered. I rig my new sun umbrella so it can be attached to my backpack shoulder strap and I can carry it hands free. I ask a stranger for help when I can't open the umbrella - he is an engineer and figures it out instantly as well as explaining why I couldn't. A hiker couple I've met on the trail arrive and help me with the rigging. 

I buy my dinner - bratwurst that I cook myself on the grill with mustard and potato chips and grapefruit juice (I am too intoxicated from the first delicious beer to risk another), and trail mix with chocolate chips found in the "hiker box" (where hikers leave things other hikers might use)  for dessert. 

Then I and Marcella and Larry stealth camp in a large parking lot near the Marina. 

Tomorrow I hope to take at least a half day rest before starting what will be a very strenuous section (even with my more reasonable 15 mike/day plan) from here to LF Ranch, my next resupply destination. 

Thank you for sharing my adventure. 

Day 26. Part 1. March 26. Mile 332.5 to Mile 345.3 (Roosevelt Lake Marina)

Day 26. Part 1.  Sunday, March 26. Mile 232.5 elev. 4796 to Mile 245.3, elevation 2103. Walked 12.8 miles, 1702 ft up, 4585 ft  down.  Grade 463.2 ft/mile. (plus a couple of mostly level miles off trail by accident) 

Dear Trail Friends

Today was a beautiful day. Yesterday's decision to stop striving to meet my plan, and to reduce my mileage to 15/day, worked magic. I stopped trying to press my body to walk faster. Instead I told my body to walk at whatever pace gave her pleasure. 

I realized as I walked that one of the joys of solitude on the trail is settling into an intimate I-thou relationship with my body that other sentient being that dwells within me but seems so different from my verbalizing/verbalizable consciousness. Trying so hard to get in maximum miles a day I was being more slave driver than atuned companion. I could feel immediately the renewed rapport, the sense of connection. Also the quality of time changed. Instead of something I was rushing through toward a goal it became a very spacious moment. As I walked I was much more keenly aware of the spaciousness. I am so grateful I was able to let go of my plan (and come up with a plan for how to do so). 

Photo 1 expresses my feeling about the day. I see a butterfly in s thistle blossom. I bend to photograph it, first at a distance, then closer and closer. It does not fly away. Instead, it opens its wings. 

 

Chris and I have a framed poem about thistles. If I had it I would include it in this blog. It evokes a sense of an afterwards - a time after we humans are gone - when the thistles will still be here. So the photo for me captures two senses of time: the butterfly fragility and transience, the thistle toughness and endurance. A kind of kiss between those two qualities of time and of being. 

I began hiking in the dark around 5:30. I missed seeing the Crescent moon (was it already the new moon, so I saw no moon in the sky?) but enjoyed the colors on the horizon. I walked along a ridge where I could see vast distances and mountains in both directions, under a clear starry sky. As the sun rose, and I saw the lake I was headed for in the distance, I had a sense of excitement about a whole new day. It also felt like a whole new hike. I was determined to slow down and let my body find her own pace and rhythm. 

Photos 2 and 3 give a glimpse of the views from the ridge walk ( after I finished yesterday's climb and before most of today's descent. )

 

I  am keenly aware of spring as process here. New flowers appear each day. Photo 4 shows some that were new today. 

 

To be continued in Day 26, part 2

Day 25. March 25. Mile 216.1 to Mile 332.5

Day 25. Saturday, March 25. Mile 216.1, elevation 5245, to Mile 332.5, elevation 4796. Walked 16.4 miles, 3124 up, 3648 down. Total grade 412 ft/Mile. 

Dear Trail Friends,

I just added another number: total grade. I don't even know exactly what it means though clearly it's a measure of how steep the trail is. I just didn't feel that today's mileage and ascent and descent numbers did justice to how physically grueling the day was for me and how exhausted I feel. 

It is increasingly clear to me that I cannot hike the 20 mile days that my plan calls for. Once in a while, when the mood strikes me, I can hike 20+ miles. But I cannot maintain that as a daily average particularly this time of year (not yet the long summer hours of daylight).  I am a slow hiker and 2 miles an hour is my best - when I have to hike up steep rocky slopes I can be as slow as 1 mile an hour.  

Clearly I have tried to reduce the number and length of rest stops to try to raise my mileage numbers. But in so doing I rob myself of my happiest moments on the trail. The moments when time seems to stop, I feel deep quiet, I listen to the wind or look at the flowers or mountains and just settle into that sense of "here I am."

I know it is hard for me to give up the destination of this pilgrimage Ribbon Falls and all it has come to mean to me. It is hard for me to give up my purist ideal of hiking the whole trail and to skip parts. And it is hard for me to figure out how to supplement my resupply boxes, packed for a certain number of days, if I decide to go slower than plan. 

But as I lurched and stumbled up the mountain today, as I felt my exhaustion setting up my tent (and managed to lose my second spare stake - after losing the first last night - and search though I might, unable to find it), I realized I need to bow to my own limitations. It is all well and good to plan for 15 miles a day and then have the fun of beating the plan.  But I got greedy in planning this hike and the plan is driving me too hard and robbing me of the joy of simple presence. 

Therefore I have decided to revise the plan as best I can for 15 hour days. I think I can do this if I am willing to sacrifice the hike from Flagstaff to the Grand Canyon south rim. This is easier than to sacrifice the hike into and out of the Grand Canyon and to Ribbon Falls. The purist in me finds comfort in the idea that if and when I come back to hike the final part of the trail (south rim to Utah border) I can easily hike from Flagstaff to the Grand Canyon then. On the practical side there is an affordable shuttle from Flagstaff to the south rim. 

So now my goal is to slow down, take the rests I need - and enjoy them,  settle into a different kind of time. Usually my hiking has been a lovely balance between lost in the moment timelessness and rushing toward goals. This time the rushing has gotten out of balance. 

Thank you for listening. My greatest logistical challenge is food. I will have to accept not having vitamins for every day of the week, sharing my food over more days and buying whatever I can find in the way of trail bars to make it work. It involves giving up a lot of control. I'm sure that this is core to the pilgrimage prayer for the people - me in particular- to emerge out of the darkness in which we don't see each other into the sunlight in which we can see each other and seek harmony. 

Another aspect of that Zuni myth is that the people did not have mouths or anuses when they lived in the dark world. Those openings had to be cut in them so they could receive nourishment and release waste. That feels connected to what I am wrestling with. 

Which makes me think of this morning' s hike. I began at 5:45 in the dark and it was beautiful to see first the crescent moon rise among the stars then the changing colors all along the horizon that precede dawn. I wish the camera (or photographer) was able to catch the crescent moon but I still hope the photo allows you to walk with me in imagination under that big changing sky. 

 

I finished climbing Montana mountain (you may recall that yesterday I was also exhausted and stopped before reaching the top) and walked for some time along the dirt road. I loved this image of the morning sky reflected in a puddle on the road. There's something metaphorical there about what trail means to me, though I'm not sure exactly what it is, related to reflections and finding the big in the small. 

 

As I hiked down from the top I heard some voices in the distance. My first thought was of Bruce and Cynthia, maybe I had caught up with them. But the voices were loud and male and multiple - and I felt a moment of fear of being hurt by them. When I got closer I realized they were a Boy Scout troupe with four or five adult men. I don't know how many there were. I do know that they hiked faster than me and I stood aside for them to pass me but the stragglers were behind me. And there I was in the midst of all that testosterone energy and boisterous noise - and they neither passed me (they kept waiting for their stragglers) nor went slow enough for me to pass them. There I was trapped in the midst of them, not my idea of a quiet solitary hike in the wilderness. 

And then one of the dads and I began to talk. He was interested in my hike and asked for the address of my blog. He talked about being a father of 6 children, a patent lawyer biochemist who worked for a company being moved from Phoenix to Connecticut, which was okay for his younger children but not for the ones in college and finishing high school. He was an interesting warm sensitive soul and gradually the affliction of landing in the middle of a Boy Scout troupe turned into a blessing. Another dad told me about the apple orchard gone wild there, how good the apples were, how he and his wife had come in the fall when the grass was shoulder tall. Photo 3 shows a few of the scouts and dads just where the AZT is about to diverge from their trail. 

 

I stopped for a meal and rest at a stream just beyond there, having hiked 10 miles by 10:30am which pleased me and seemed promising (for getting in miles and convincing myself I could push myself hard enough to follow my plan). As I rested a group of six horse people came. Amazing to watch those big animals negotiate the rocky and difficult path. I did something I had not yet done on the Arizona trail - soaked my feet in a cold creek. It felt really good. 

Let's end with the view from my tent. I assume that is a Lake in the distance and that it is Roosevelt Lake where I am headed tomorrow. Though I hope more slowly and restfully than I have been hiking this hike up until now. Thank you for walking with me. 

 

Day 24. Part 2. March 24. Mile 296.8 to Mile 316.1 (Montana Mountain)

Continued from Day 24, Part 1. 

Day 24. Part 2. March 24. Mile 296.8, elevation 2992, to Mile 316.1 (Montana Mountain), elevation 5245 ft. Walked 19.3 miles, 3944 up, 1641 down. 

As I realized I would be hiking the mountain today, I became a little concerned because my pace is slower on mountains, especially very steep trails with loose rocks. It's often hard to find level places to sleep on the climb, and I wasn't sure I could reach the top before dark. 

As it turned out I found a fine tentsite before the top and am happily settled here. I am surprised by how cold it is. Although the hot spell is over the day was hot and I sweated a lot. Now I am bringing my water filter into the sleeping bag with me to be sure it won't freeze tonight. 

I was prepared to find the mountain climb challenging. Then the hike toward the mountain began to sashay through and around a very rocky wash and it was the kind of footing you have to concentrate on, and can't get into a stride. Plus the trail itself was hard to find. You get the feel a little from photo 5. The trail is marked by cairns but other than that you wouldn't even know there was a trail. 

 

By the time I got to the climb I was already tired and running late. Climbing was physically hard for me as it so often is. I remembered a Pogo cartoon I had cut out and saved as a teenager. Two characters are climbing a mountain. Huffing and puffing. "Dad blast this durned mountain," one of them says. "Now don't go knocking the mountain," the other responds. "How'd you like to hike this high without no mountain?"

I remember the equestrian Marvin saying that a view looks and feels different when you've climbed up to it yourself. It was exciting to look down at the wash the trail had been dancing around. (Photo 6)

 

Now I think I better put our yawning (and shivering) River to bed. See you in the trail tomorrow. 

Let's end with a cactus blossom, photo 7. 

 

But wait. I forgot to tell you two very important things. First, I saw my first wild boars yesterday. A pair of them. Second, hiking yesterday I saw a Saguaro that had fallen across the trail as trees do. I was surprised to see that it's inner fiber looks just like tree wood. (Photo 8)

 

Then early this morning, hiking in the pre-dawn dark (I watched the crescent moon rise - very cool) I noticed a new feeling about saguaros. They seemed like sentinels, tall strong protective figures. I began to feel toward them as I do toward trees. Not to judge them by their spiny exterior. 

Okay. This time I really mean it. Goodnight. 

Day 24. Part 1. March 24. Mile 296.8 to Mile 316.1 (Montana Mountain)

Day 24. Part 1. March 24. Mile 296.8, elevation 2992, to Mile 316.1 (Montana Mountain), elevation 5245 ft. Walked 19.3 miles, 3944 up, 1641 down. 

Dear Trail Friends,

One of the real high points of the day was my rest stop. I walked 12 miles before resting and was feeling proud of myself. I found the tank mentioned on my app (I don't always succeed in finding these off-trail tanks) at what seemed to be an abandoned or neglected ranch. I really enjoyed the gold fish in the water tank (photo 1.)

 

While my water filtered, I ate a relaxed lunch. I rubbed pain cream and "hand repair" cream into my feet which were walking in wet socks (all my socks got wet in last evening's sudden downpour just as I was setting up camp.). I spread out my tent, my rain jacket, and the plastic bag that doubles as a doormat for my tent and a container for my full water bottles (to protect stuff in my pack from leaks). I spent time in inverted pose. 

I also chatted with a woman who was part of a group of equestrians who had stopped there I think to rest their horses. She was very impressed I was hiking alone. A lot of people of women seem both excited and concerned/afraid when they learn I am hiking alone. I wish I could find the link to a wonderful essay (part of a book of essays about walking) about how many cultures historically have not allowed women to walk about freely, with penalties of shame and violence if they did. It was very well written and made something clear and obvious that tends to be so familiar as to go unnoticed. 

Photo 2 shows the lovely peaceful tree I rested under (and the soft plants - no needles! - I spread my tent over ). First rest I have had this whole walk that felt like enough. I stayed 2 hours and when I left I felt ready, not rushed to leave to get it the miles. 

 

I had thought today was going to be easy and that the next two or three days until I reach Roosevelt Lake would be more demanding. I looked at the mountains and they seemed faraway. I couldn't believe I would be climbing them Saturday and Sunday, much less today. They look pretty faraway don't they on photo 3. But just two hours later in photo 4 I seem a lot closer. 

 

 

To be continued in Day 24, part 2

Day 23. March 23. Mile 279.3 to mile 296.8

Day 23. Thursday March 23. From Mile 279.3, elev. 1802 ft., to Mile 296.8 Elev.  2992 ft. Walked 17.5 miles, 3326 ft up, 2240 ft down. 

Dear Trail Friends,

What a strange day. It began to rain last night about 3am. Because the forecast had been for brief showers I thought if I just procrastinated (start hiking at 6 instead of 5) they'd been done with. They weren't. Rain kept falling until late morning. I got very wet. 

Meanwhile I was hiking through incredible beauty.  Photos 1 through 4 don't begin to do justice to the feeling of being there. 

   

The morning walk was cool as well as wet and after all my protests about the heat I couldn't help thinking " be careful what you wish for. "

I walked a little over 10 mikes before taking a rest stop because I was concerned to reach the next water source. Comments in the app referred to a tank just a little southwest of the trail. I spent quite awhile searching. I found a very murky cow pond. And I found some small pools of water in the nearby wash - no doubt from last nights rain - from which I scooped water from to filter and use. 

I had lunch, then started walking leaving my rain gear on. About 2 miles later I stepped into sunshine and took my gear off. 1.3 miles after that I discovered I was backtracking. My directional dyslexia had me going backwards again. 2.6 unnecessary miles and an hour and 15 minutes walking time lost. I even took this same photo both the first time walking that part of the trail, and when returning. 

 

It never got sunny enough to dry my sleeping bag. A few hours after removing my rain gear I had to put it back on for a short intense rain. Then all got quiet but the sky color looked ominous. 

When I found a tentsite I put away my rain gear, unloaded my pack, was about to pitch my tent when another short intense rain drenched absolutely everything. I tried to stay calm. Put everything (wet though it was) in the not yet pitched tent. Pitched it. Blew up my air mattress, got in, pulled out my little ultralight towels and began to dry things as best I could. I always wondered what it would be like to set up camp in pounding rain.  Now I know. 

There were all sorts of interesting thoughts I imagined sharing with you while I walked but they got pre-empted by the rain. 

May you sleep warm and dry tonight. And may I also!

Good night. Thanks for walking with me through all this beauty and the hard stuff. 

Day 22. part 2. March 22, Gila River Trailhead (access point for town of Kearny) Mile 262.8 to Mile 279.3.

Continued from Day 22, part 1. 

Day 22. Part 2. Wednesday, March 22, Gila River Trailhead (access point for town of Kearny), Mile 262.8, elevation 1755, to Mile 279.3, elev. 1802 ft. Walked 16.6 miles, 1896 up, 1849 down. 

The day began sweetly with that first hour reading the guidebook (because I woke up so early, eager for the day to begin, like a kid on Christmas morning.). Gerry the exuberant trail angel drove Aaron and me to the trail. Aaron headed south on the AZT, which is part of the GET (Grand Enchantment Trail that goes thru both Arizona and New Mexico). And I headed north on the Gila River trail. Photo 5 shows Aaron and Gerry. 

 

 Now what am I going to do? I have more than 30 photos (and a video of the second Gila monster) and clearly I can't show them all to you. Okay - so I'm going to give you a couple of collages. Photo 6 is an ongoing celebration of wild flowers in bloom. 

 

Hmmm. I like the collages better with a little white between photos but can't figure out how to edit what I've already saved. So, as the sign in Steve and Anne's kitchen says, it is what it is."

Photo 7 brings together a few of the stunning views along the Gila River trail. I saw very little of the river. It was mostly unseen and unheard, though the green green valley testified to its presence. The guidebook had said that the trail hugs the river closely for 4 or 5 miles. Teading that felt cozy and snugly to me - and being named River I immediately imagined being hugged closely by the trail. So I was disappointed that it seemed (to me) to be mostly a pretty distant hug. 

 

On the other hand, as the trail turned away from the river and I began to hike uphill (precisely when I got lost - and there is probably some deep meaning in that) I found a nice little campsite. Yes it was only 16.6 miles from my starting point, and I had hoped to hike 18 miles.  But it was also almost 6:30. First I walked past it, wanting more miles. Just one more mile, I said to myself. But it's almost dark, I answered (with a bit of a whine). It doesn't matter how far you hike. That's a really nice site. 

I had convinced myself. I turned around and walked back to the site. 

As I put up my tent, the day faded quickly and I realized what a good decision it was. I stepped back to take a photo (photo 8) and as I did Leonard Cohen's Hallelujah came into my mind. 

I haven't played music at all this hike, because this particular trail demands my undivided attention. But I played Hallelujah as I sat in my tent and watched the sunset. And I sang along with the chorus, belting out Hallelujah with all my heart to the sky and the mountains ( and hoping I wasn't disturbing some hiker camping within shouting distance). 

It was a profoundly moving experience - an odd mix of complete humility before the wonder of this world and total pride. I felt as if I were filling the vast space with my voice singing it's praises.  I felt I was singing hallelujah not only to the mountains and sunset, but also to the whole human world, Trump included, the whole beautiful mess. It was a moving experience and a powerful reminder of why I am here (which, as you well know, I have been known to question. )

 

Then, as I rubbed pain cream into my feet and hands, the song was still echoing - a sense of awe about the complex and beautiful structure of my feet and hands, and all they can do especially on the trail. 

That was a beautiful experience and I thank you for letting me share it.  Now, to bed. I hope to start hiking in the predawn dark and get in a few miles tomorrow. 

Day 22. part 1. March 22, Gila River Trailhead (access point for town of Kearny) Mile 262.8 to Mile 279.3.

Day 22. Part 1. Wednesday, March 22, Gila River Trailhead (access point for town of Kearny), Mile 262.8, elevation 1755, to Mile 279.3, elev. 1802 ft. Walked 16.6 miles, 1896 up, 1849 down. 

Dear Trail Friends,

As you can see from the numbers, it was an easy day. Not as much up and down, and also not quite as hot. Though honestly it didn't feel easy. I managed to get lost and totally turned around and befuddled once before I found my way back to the trail. 

My planned water stop at the Gila River was also quite challenging for me - both finding the way to the river (which involved a small detour off trail and crawling under a barb wire fence - I was very pleased with myself for entering the detailed instructions I would have liked into the comments section of the gps app), and getting the filter to work with the very muddy water - it required the use (and frequent change) of my bandana as a pre-filter, and then also backwashing the filter repeatedly to wash out the mud caught in it. 

Another ordeal for me was a friendly garrulous thru-hiker who slowed to my pace to converse. It turned out I had had my fill of social contact in Kearny and was ready for solitude. I was surprised by the urgent intensity of my solitude need. He was a perfectly nice and interesting man. I just had no social energy left, and finally told him "I'm going to need to drop out of this conversation. I'm a little deaf, and also I prefer to hike quietly. " it took me an hour or two to recover from how depleted I felt from that unwanted social contact. I found it surprising. I still do. But it's something I know about myself. I find interacting with people very depleting at times. I wish it were otherwise. 

Okay. So in some ways it felt like a hard day. But it was also stunningly beautiful. I woke up before 5 and was all ready to go over an hour before Gerry was picking us up. So I sat down and read the trail guide for the next passage of the trail. The book described this as the most beautiful part of the trail other than the Grand Canyon. Sometimes when people make a big fuss about how beautiful something is it spoils it for me. Not this time. It was definitely a day of "wow."  Especially of course in the morning before the mid-day sun turned me into a monster.

And speaking of monsters. Guess what? I saw my first (and second) Gila monster today. The first was walking in its slow, clumsy, sinuous way (you have to see it move to get how it can be both clumsy and sinuous, it's an almost comic combination) down the trail in front of me. When it became aware of me it left the trail. 

The second Gila monster was walking toward me on the trail, and seemed utterly unaware of my presence. I stepped off the trail but also closer to it, hoping to get its attention. They are slow but they are also poisonous. I said "I don't want to hurt you or be hurt by you, so we have to figure out a way to pass each other." Finally Gila #2 stepped off the trail. 

Photo 1 is the first Gila monster. Isn't he (or she) remarkable - the colors and patterns. Intelligent design or evolutionary accident - either way: wow. 

 

Photo 2 is a tiny horned toad I saw a little later. I used to see these a lot as a kid in the canyons of San Diego. I think they are magnificent creatures. Look how this one blends with his surroundings. Aren't the pointy things around his neck lovely?

 

And while we are talking about wild life, I also saw a cat on the trail. (Photo 3). Not a bobcat or a cougar but a big cat in the middle of the trail. I asked it what it was doing there without its person. It just closed its eyes and smiled and said "I'm a cat. People are my servants, not my masters" - and began to purr. I stepped carefully around it and continued on the trail. 

 

I also met two interesting humans, Whisper and Katydid. Turns out I had met them before in 2015 in Saiad Valley when Whisper was picking up Katydid after a long section hike (or maybe during a thru hike?). Whisper remembered that I was camping with a woman named Barbara (who I remember a retired English professor hiking with her dog). Whisper was from San Diego, and even remembered that I told her my father had taught at SDSU. I was sad about my lack of memory but glad for her memory. I said how amazing that we would meet there then, and now meet again here. 

"Not so surprising," said Whisper. "We are a small community of lunatics." Here they are in photo 4. That's Whisper taking my picture while I take hers!

To be continued in Day 22, part 2. 

Day 21. March 21. Zero mile rest day in Kearny

Day 21. Tuesday March 21. Zero mile rest day in Kearny AZ. 

Dear Trail Friends,

I slept late and then went for a stroll in the very warm morning air. At the dollar store across the street from General Kearny Inn where I am staying I found ziplock bags (to replace worn ones I was using - one as a water scoop, one to keep the clean water end of my water filter system clean, one as a home for used toilet paper.). I also found thread - three big spools for $1. I was reluctant to hem my new pants for fear they would use up the stash of thread in my emergency kit. I told you about the new pants, right? How, overwhelmed by the heat, I listened to Anne telling me that everyone here wears light colored clothes and it makes a huge difference, and promptly ordered new pants, shirt and hat from Amazon (also a sun umbrella). I always hem the pants a little, they are long on me and drag in trail dust. 

From the dollar store I walked less than a block to Ace hardware where I bought pipe insulation foam (for padding the umbrella when I attach it to my backpack for "hands free" use) and - what else did I buy at the hardware store? Oh, of course! Shoe goo to put around the corners of the Velcro attached to the back of my new shoes (so I can Velcro my gaiters to them - without goo or glue the Velcro tends not to stay attached especially in this heat) - and also to protect the toe of the shoe which seems to wear out first. 

Then from Ace hardware I walked half a block to the post office where I picked up my resupply box and the tube in which my umbrella was shipped - the now empty tube as the umbrella seems to have gone off on a Mary Poppins adventure of its own. 

Then I walked the whole block and a half back to the hotel pausing at Bruce and Cynthia's room to offer part of my pipe insulating foam (I had a piece 6 or 8 ft of and needed at most 6 inches ). When I arrived they laughed and held up my pipe foam's identical twin which they had been planning to share with me. We agreed to have lunch at the Cantina (next door to the post office), having heard that it was "taco Tuesday."  

I went back to my room and started the process of requesting a replacement umbrella sent to my next resupply stop (which will be Roosevelt Lake. )

I also unpacked my resupply box only to discover that I had goofed and left the laundry detergent and soap/shampoo and body lotion out. That meant doing my laundry without soap (which doesn't really bother me - it gets a lot of the dirt out) and also my hair and body. I thought about how trail walks for me are a lot about learning how to adjust to the unexpected. Not getting all full of fear or anger when things do not go as planned -but just getting curious how I will cope with the new situation. 

At lunch I walked into the empty Cantina and the very warm and friendly staff - typical of this little desert town - explained that they did not serve food at all, and that "taco Tuesday" was at Buzzy's (another half block and across the street, next door to NAPA auto parts. 

So Bruce and Cynthia and I had lunch at this little sort of like a non-chain fast food place - they had tacos and I had enchiladas. There was no air conditioning, just overhead fans. Gerry came to pick them up after lunch in his Hawaiian shirt and with his mustang convertible. Gerry makes an exciting production out of everything, taking photos, talking about how this is the one that is going to go viral, being sure to get shots that show we are in front of Buzzy's. He clearly lives the trail and trail people and gets joy from helping, and loves the town of Kearny, and knows that the more it is publicized as a great place for hikers to come, the more the town will thrive from the business hikers bring. Photo 1 shows Gerry and Bruce and Cynthia heading out toward the trail. 

 

Gerry asked me to contact another hiker Aaron (a young man from Seattle staying at the campground) and coordinate our morning trip to the trailhead (Gerry will drive us) with him. 

I invited Aaron (who I had not met, just texted him about trail head transportation arrangements) to dinner at the local pizza place and then collected my laundry, opened my resupply box and put things into my pack (opening all the shrink wrapped stuff and putting it into ziplock bags), etc. I also took a shower and rubbed rescue cream all over my body. This hot dry air is hard in skin. Oh dear Trail Friends I keep falling asleep in mid sentence. Do you think my body is trying to tell me something?

I moved the button on my new pants so I can wear them low (below where they would have chafed under the backpack belt) and also sewed the spare button in a place where I could fasten them tighter at my actual waist and so above where the pants waist belt would chafe under the backpack waistbelt. That's about as clear as mud and i am falling asleep. 

Dinner was fun - Gerry came back to take pictures and showed photos of the trail I just walked and the part coming up. A man named James (trail steward for the next section I will walk and athletic director at a local school) who had met Aaron earlier also joined us. It was fun to be with them. James plans to walk the PCT near Crater Lake this year. 

But I dropped early and came "home" to make final arrangements for packing up and of course to write this blog. (I know you thought it wrote itself but actually I sit here with my two little hands letting my finger or fingers dance across the little iPhone keyboard. I don't mind doing typing my blog, but am not yet good enough to do it in my sleep. 

One other thing - I've been noticing photo collages in other people's blogs and noticed Cynthia making one. I asked her what app she used and she said layout. She had a great collage of desert wild flowers. So photo 2 is a collage made today of photos from yesterday - the desert going very far to celebrate my/our Chrissy's birthday. 

 

I'm not sure of the wildflower names but one of the cleaning women told me that if you touched the orange one and then touched your eye you could get pink eye. 

Did I tell you Aaron turns out to be an ER doctor from Sacramento? Not exactly the poor hiker on a shoestring i was imagining he would be. Very bright and interesting young man. I wish I had taken his picture. Maybe tomorrow morning. Of course the pink eye story made me think of him because I wasn't sure how credible he as a trained physician would find it. 

Enough. I really am half asleep. Pleasantly so. Did I tell you I asked Aaron to meet me in the hotel lobby/bar for a beer before dinner?  They have several brews on tap and I am totally hooked on "kilt lifter." Not only does it appeal to my Scottish ancestry and humor, but I love the taste of the beer. 

See you on the trail tomorrow.