Friday, March 3, Mile 26.8 to Patagonia, Mile 52.8

Friday, March 3. Day 3. From Mile 27.3, elev. 5725, to Mile 52.8, elev. 4061. Walked 25.5 miles (plus 2 extra when I took wrong turns), 2889 up, 4502 down. 

Dear Trail Friends,

I am sitting in my room at the Stage Stop Inn sipping decaf and eating leftover trail food (of which there is a lot, since my plan allowed five days to hike this portion and I hiked it in thre days. I suppose it makes no sense to be eating trail food when I could be at a restaurant eating hot food. But tonight trail food feels like comfort food. And when did emotions ever make sense? My feet, on the other hand, think it eminently sensible to find comfort in food that requires no walking. They feel they have done enough of that for one day. 

I began my walk in the predawn dark at 5:45am. I finished in the post-sunset dark at 7pm. The miles went slower than I had guessed (more uphill and downhill than I realized, much of the downhill steep with lots of loose rock that had to be negotiated with care - I had two scary slips and one scary fall, luckily with no injury - and trails that were very, very easy to lose and hard to find again, which resulted in many short excursions, and one 2-mile excursion, and lots of time spent just looking around and wondering where the damn trail was. I was grateful for the signs and cairns and my gps app,  but often they weren't quite enough. Not as much as I wanted. Part of this walk I think is learning to get along with less knowledge and control than I want. Today I thought of the trail as a big greased snake I was trying to get hold of, and every time I succeeded in grabbing it, it slipped out of reach. Definitely a different relationship with the trail than the PCT. Less an idealized home/good mother, and more a worthy opponent. Because the miles went slowly, and the trail was elusive, I got worried about hiking the end of my long hike in the dark. To my great relief, the last three miles, the only part I did in the dark, were on a road. The gods don't get much kinder than that. In the meantime, though, I only allowed myself one 30 minute test stop. That meant that except for that stop my feet were moving and weight bearing 13 hours. Too much, they informed me when I got to the hotel. From now on, less miles greed, more rest, more finding and stopping at the rare trees that allow my "inverted pose" (back on the earth, legs resting against the tree, feet in the air. )

So let's begin at the end.  Photo 1 shows the sun setting on my very long hiking day, as I walk toward Patagonia. 

 

Besides the themes of pushing myself too hard and having the trail elude me, a focus today was on my continuing love affair with Arizona and what seems to me to be a unique palette.  I especially love the red earth and rocks. They bring to mind the red clay I appreciated in Oklahoma and the song I sang as a child, Red River Valley (Come and sit by my side of you love me, do not hasten to bid me adieu, just remember the red river valley, and the cowboy who loves you so true -  of course a song about loss). 

Photo 2 shows a great orange-red rock and photo 3 shows the orange-red trail beside a slightly more mauve-red rock. 

 

 

I took several photos as I walked, wanting to share with you the sense of spaciousness. When I walk hours alone as I did both today and yesterday I begin to feel intimate with the curves and contours of earth as I might with a lover's body. Only there is such a sense of immense space. All hard to convey by photo or words. It is the slow rhythm of walking, the sense of how small I am within all that spaciousness. 

Is this what the Native American phrase "walk in beauty" means? This kind of being awake to something larger and more beautiful than oneself, of which one is nevertheless a small, transient part?

Anyway, photos 4 and 5 want to share that experience with you. They would if they could. 

 

 

 

I do need to explain that my overdoing today had a good excuse. I had quite naturally and without real excess on the first two days made it so I would arrive Saturday instead of Sunday. But the Stage Stop Inn was full Saturday. If I wanted a shower, a chance to rest on a bed, a chance to do laundry, I had to arrive Friday. I know, I always push myself and I always have an excuse. But my point is, I do have an excuse. 

I'm very tired - as I have been writing each of these posts. So I thank you even more than usual for staying with the meandering of my weary brain. There is a mystery in the way I need to be alone to experience the world in this way, and yet I need to share with he experience with you to make it more complete. Tomorrow I will leave mid-day on another walk planned for five days that will probably be finished in four (or three and a half).  In the meantime, I do relish this rest. 

Thank you again.