March 1, 2022
- Start: Montezuma Pass
- End: Sunnyside Canyon (13.2)
- Total hiked: 16+ mile (including my 3 non-AZT miles)
Despite the butterflies in my stomach over starting another thru-hike, I was able to catch a few good hours of sleep last night. Nonetheless, my body was wide awake by 6am and I was eager to get going.
Mike and Angi (the trail angels who put me up last night), were willing drive all the way to Montezuma Pass this morning. They even said they’d walk down to the monument with me to take my photo too. Score! This meant my pack could stay in their Jeep for the roughly 1.8-mile trek down to the border.
As we drove from Mike and Angi’s home to the trailhead on a bumpy dirt road, it was evident the start of the Arizona Trail wasn’t going to be anything like the southern terminus of the Pacific Crest Trail (PCT). There were mountains in every direction.
Getting down to the US-Mexico border would require us to park at Montezuma Pass then gradually descend on foot on the southern foothills of the Huachuca Mountains. And once we reached the southern terminus (at 5,908′ above sea level), I’d need to turn around and immediately hike up to Miller Peak (which sat above 9,000’) within the first few miles of the trail!
The Arizona Trail was not going to let me just ease into hiking. It would be a test from the very start.
MONTEZUMA PASS
Montezuma Pass seemed pretty quiet for 8 am on a Tuesday morning. There were just a handful of Jeeps and 4×4 pickup trucks dotting the paved parking lot. But my first order of business was to immediately scour the area for the nearby pit toilets. I drank way too much coffee this morning to calm my nerves, and now my bladder was crying after the bumpy half-hour ride on dirt roads.
When I returned to the Jeep, Mike and Angi were already donning their daypacks and ready to go. They’d brought Angi’s college friend Judy along to introduce her to the Arizona Trail. So the four of us slowly meandered our way down toward the border, stopping to take a quick side trip to Coronado Peak and read a bunch of historical signs.
From Coronado Peak, I could see into Mexico for miles and miles. The Sonoran Desert unfolded to my south and it was simply breathtaking to behold. This is why I’d come out here. I love trails where I can see stunning vistas like this. The confines of a thickly forested trail can’t make my heart sing in nearly the same way as a desert or ocean trail.
Despite our slow, leisurely start, I felt like the border was urgently calling me. I picked up the pace as I wound my way down the dirt trail, spotting several AZT hikers with large packs.
At the bottom of the trail, the ugly metal slatted fence stood towering upward. It seemed absurd to built this obstacle here given the formidable mountain range to the north, which posed an even greater deterrent to anyone wanting to cross illegally. The half-built wall stopped just shy of Monument 102, and for the first time in two years, the AZT’s southern terminus was finally accessible again!
Only a meager four-strand barbed wire fence separated me from the tall white obelisk on the Mexican side of the boundary.
And with no one (from either the U.S. or Mexican government) around to check my passport, I quickly crawled through the widest gap in the barbed wire and made my way onto Mexican soil. I needed to put my feet at the official southern terminus of the Arizona Trail.
With that task complete, I scurried back over to the American side once again. I could I officially start my thru-hike now! And I needed get going. It was a two-mile hike back up to Mike and Angi’s Jeep to grab my pack and all my gear before I continued north.
As I made the slow climb back up to Montezuma Pass, I could feel the heat already starting to descend. The forecast said the temperatures were going to soar into the upper-70s today, and I could already tell my long, black hiking pants were going to be way too hot for Southern Arizona’s warm environment.
Luckily, I had a pair of shorts tucked in my pack for just this contingency. Hiking in the shoulder season means I’d packed for just about anything.
Mike took one final photo of me with my pack at Montezuma Pass and wished me good luck. The rest of the journey was up to me. Only 780-ish miles to go.
MILLER PEAK
The next 4.4 miles of winding dirt trail after Montezuma Pass went uphill the entire way. Despite this, I felt physically strong. The views were getting better and better as I climbed, and openess of the terrain meant I could now see there were a lot more people out hiking than I’d anticipated.
I was pretty sure most people wouldn’t begin their AZT thru-hikes for another few weeks yet. Mid- to late-March is the ideal time to start. The AZT’s relative popularity today had to be due to the fact that is was March 1st. Some hikers simply like the symbolism of starting a journey on the first day of the month.
As I stopped to catch my breath and grab a snack from my hipbelt pocket, I looked down. Something was biting my shin. I couldn’t see what type of insect it was, but damn it hurt. As I smacked it off me and tried to ignore the pain.
As I hiked further up the trail, I the altitude made my breathing more labored. Despite the fatigue, I pressed on — passing several hikers who were resting and eating lunch under the shade of some low trees. My sights were set all the way to the trail’s junction for Miller Peak. I didn’t want to stop until then.
Last night during dinner, Mike suggested I take the mile-long detour up to Miller Peak for the panoramic views of the area. The AZT finishes climbing at the Miller Peak junction (at 9,090’), but it was only another 376 vertical feet to get to the summit.
After eating a small lunch at the trail’s junction, I decided to go for it. I stowed my pack behind some trees and made the climb. This short detour would be my first encounter with snow on the AZT, yet it was easy to navigate and short-lived.
As Mike promised, I could see for miles at the top of Miller Peak. I even had enough cell signal to send a quick text home to let my loved one’s know I was officially on the trail.
Yet in hindsight, I probably should have skipped this side trip. I didn’t know it then, but I’d need every last ounce of stamina by the end of the day. And this little side jaunt wasted precious time and energy.
BATHTUB SPRINGS
Once I made it back to my pack and down onto the AZT again, it was already after 2:40 pm. Far later than I expected. I had just under two miles left to hike until the first (and possibly only) water source of the day – Bathtub Springs.
Unfortunately, my progress to Bathtub Springs was dramatically hindered thanks to the snow ahead on the trail. There hadn’t been any hint of snow on the 6.2 miles up to the Miller Peak junction, but the shady north side of these mountains were filled with slush, snow, and quite a few sketchy areas.
I wouldn’t describe the terrain here as being so bad that you needed microspikes. But the trampled snow was definitely slick enough that it forced me to slow my pace considerably and focus on every step. The narrow trail had a sloping drop-off that would make for a gnarly fall, if I wasn’t careful.
After an hour of negotiating the snow-covered path, I finally made it to Bathtub Springs. I was only 8 miles into the AZT, but my hike down to the southern terminus and detour to the summit of Miller Peak put my mileage closer to 11 miles, and I was really beginning to feel the strain of carrying a heavy pack uphill.
While setting up my CNOC bladder to gravity filter the cold, fresh water from the old metal bathtub, I met another hiker from Boise, Idaho. He was eating a super early dinner at the spring just to limit how much water he needed to carry to camp tonight. As we sat and talked, he asked me where I planned to camp tonight.
My only vague goal for today was to set up my tent somewhere between Bathtub Springs (mile 8) and the windmill (mile 17) today. But I was really hoping to make it back down to 6,000’ elevation before dark.
One maxim I’d learned a few years ago was “hike high, camp low.” Instead of setting up camp at whatever high elevation you ascended to during the day, it’s better to allow your body recover by sleeping at lower elevations, when possible. Bathtub Springs was at 8,564’ elevation, so I definitely wanted to push onward.
I was still fairly unsure of the number or quality of water sources that laid ahead of me though. The FarOut (Guthook) app had very few recent water comments. The majority of the crowdsourced info seemed to be from last fall’s SOBO thru-hikers, which didn’t do me much good. They’d been relying on the summer monsoons for water, whereas I was relying on the winter snowpack.
This dearth of reliable water information was definitely one of the downsides of starting a trail so early in the season. There just weren’t enough hikers ahead of me. As such, I was worried about what I might encounter up ahead.
I didn’t want to go thirsty tonight. So I cautiously gather four liters of water from Bathtub Springs, with the idea that I’d be dry camping somewhere tonight. Unfortunately, this decision carry so much water would come back to to bite me in the butt big time!!
ELEVATION WOES
When I hoisted my pack up onto my back again, the weight of that four liters of water (or 8.8 pounds!) felt like it was going to crush me. It was so damn heavy. On other trails, I never carried more than two liters if I could help it.
But, I was afraid I’d need far more water tonight. I’d barely been drinking anything today and I knew the elevation and dry desert air was dehydrating me faster than normal.
As I trudged up the trail, I assumed it would be ok. I’d be descending fairly soon, right? In reality the trail’s true descent was still miles ahead of me. And the next section was pure hell. I was not longer climbing per se, but I was repeatedly going up and over rolling hills at 8,000’ to 8,600’ elevation.
By now my body was reeling with fatigue and nausea. I’d woken up yesterday at my typical 430’ above sea level. And now, just 18 hours later, I was pushing myself to hike with all my gear, four liters of water, and four days’ of food. I was certain my pack had to weigh 30+ pounds with all that crap.
It took me seemingly forever for me to hike those next 3.2 miles of rolling terrain. It felt like my body was engaging in a mutiny against me. I had to stop repeatedly to catch my breath and slow my heart rate. I was so exhausted that I found myself looking longingly at every stealth camping site I came upon.
As I dragged my body forward, my head throbbed like it was in a vice. My heartbeat was racing as if I was running a 5k. My lungs hurt each time I breathed in. And my entire body ached from the physical strain of all that extra weight as the late afternoon sun beat down. Moreover, I felt so nauseated that I could barely move down the trail at one mile per hour.
The only thing that kept me moving forward through these overwhelming symptoms was the notion that I needed to sleep at lower elevation to feel better. My headache and nausea would recede once I got lower down this mountain.
The trail finally began its blessed descent when I reached the Sunnyside Canyon Trail junction at mile 11.2, and I sighed with desperate relief. I’d made it! At last!
But it wasn’t long before I had a new concern. It was now 5:15 pm. I’d gone so slow this afternoon that I was now racing the sun to find somewhere to camp. The sun would be setting in just an hour’s time, and there was nothing flat on either side of the trail.
Earlier today, I’d hoped to set up camp at the cement trough near mile 15. But I was now 100% confident that wasn’t going to happen. The trough was still another 3.8 miles ahead of me, and I simply didn’t have the time or the energy to make it there.
Perhaps I might have made it that far if I’d omitted the 2-mile side trip up to Miller Peak… Or if I’d taken as less leisurely start with Mike and Angi this morning… Or if I’d carried less water from Bathtub Springs.
But, there was no point in beating myself now about the “what ifs.” The AZT is a long, long trail. As long as I had enough water between sources, then it didn’t matter how far I made it on any given day. I’d stop when I needed to. I wasn’t going to force myself to walk a set number of miles each day.
I continued downhill for another two miles to Sunnyside Canyon, where I was pleased to see a group of four people already spread out across an extremely large, flat campsite. There was room for at least 6-8 more tents nearby. Oh thank goodness. A decent place to stop before dark.
I asked the other hikers if I could camp with them, and everyone cheerful welcomed me in. What a relief! I was done walking and I could take my insanely heavy pack off and rest.
THE END OF DAY 1
As I entered the makeshift campsite, I made quick work of setting up my tent and then boiled some water for a pre-packaged dinner. But, as I sat there looking at my food, my nausea wouldn’t subside enough so I could eat more than a few bites. Even drinking my electrolytes was a chore.
One of the other hikers was feeling even more depleted than me. He was cowboy camping in his sleeping bag when I arrived, but he said he couldn’t stop shivering. He didn’t want to eat or drink anything, and he had a monster headache. All signs of altitude sickness and dehydration. Clearly I wasn’t the only one coming from sea level who pushed way too hard today!
As I laid in my tent all bundled in my warm quilt, I had time to reflect on the the day. My first full day on the AZT was over. Although I was only officially at mile 13.2 on the AZT, I’d actually hiked a pretty long day once you accounted for the extra 1.8 miles to the border and 2 miles up to Miller Peak and back. I’d done 16+ miles of hiking with a ton of elevation change and an insanely heavy water carry. That’s not a horrible start for a flatlander like me.
However, one thing was for sure. From now on, I would NOT be carrying nearly that much water even for dry camping. I might have the capacity to carry up to 6 liters, but I’m going to try to limit myself to 3 liters or less. Anything more than that is just too damn heavy.
Highlights
- Crossing into Mexico to touching the monument. After weeks and months of thinking about this trail, I’m finally on the AZT!
- The weather was about as good as I could have hoped today – clear, warm, and sunny!
- I made it through the first day and over the first big climb without dying. I guess that’s a win??
Challenges:
- Altitude – it’s clear I live nearly at sea level. By the end of the day I felt horrible from my rapid ascent to Miller Peak’s 9,466′ of elevation
- I learned a powerful lesson about how heavy water would be. Perhaps, I left my fears get the better of me, but I now know I carried way too water from Bathtub Springs
- I definitely need to mentally recalibrate my mileage expectations on this trail. I really want to hike 20 mile days, but this terrain isn’t going to make that easy.