March 19, 2022

• Start: Stealth spot near Reavis Ridge (Mile 314.6)
• End:  Cottonwood Trailhead (Mile 334.8)
• Distance:  20.2 miles

I crashed immediately after eating my late dinner last night, and slept solidly until the voices of several men woke me around 11 pm. They were night hiking down the trail from Reavis Ridge, and I could hear their loud, animated voices coming toward me.

As they got closer, one of the hikers shone his headlamp directly onto my tent and said to the others, “Is that a tent over there?” I froze, holding my breath until they passed, and feeling grateful I’d set up rainfly last night so they couldn’t see in.

I’m sure they probably assumed it was another guy out hiking the AZT. Nonetheless, this is one of those scenarios that always feels a tiny bit frightening for most solo female hikers: hearing an unknown person outside your tent—or, in this case, multiple unknown people.

This situation is one reason I always carry pepper spray on my backpacking trips. I may never need to use it, but it might help me escape an unexpected attacker—whether it’s a wild animal, dog, or human being.

I gradually released my grip on the pepper spray bottle as the hikers continued down the trail, talking loud enough that I could still hear their voices (if not their exact words) five minutes after they passed my position. And now that I was awake, my bladder was calling and I had to scramble outside to relieve myself beside my tent.

Sometime during the past two hours since I first fell asleep, the low clouds parted, and a nearly full moon shone down brightly on my surroundings. It was like a lightbulb in the desert sky. No wonder the night hikers saw my tent and the small reflective tabs on the outside of the rainfly.

Even though my heart was no longer racing from the unexpected presence of the strangers, I struggled to fall back asleep for more than an hour. Finally, I relented and pulled out my AirPods and phone. I turned on my most recent audiobook (The One Hundred Years of Lenni & Margot) and set a sleep timer, and before longs, I was right back to sleep. It’s amazing how just five or ten minutes of someone else reading can soothe and quiet my mind.

WE AIN’T DEAD YET

When I woke for good in the morning, the sun was already breaking across the horizon, and there was just a little nip in the air. I’d slept several thousand feet higher than normal, and needed my gloves on for the first hour to keep my fingertips warm.

I hiked the remaining distance up to Reavis Ridge, thanking my lucky stars that I’d found that small stealth site last night in the near dark. There was nothing even remotely close to being big enough to set my tent up anywhere else. It was just a narrow strip of trail against the mountains.

After cresting the ridge, I ran into a pair of hikers named She-ra & Sky who were heading southbound. These two were a complete hoot and I learned they had a YouTube channel called “We ain’t dead yet.”

She-Ra had her hair plaited in two long braids like Pippi Longstocking. But even more interesting was how she tucked her water bottles inside an extra pair of striped socks on her shoulder straps. That was one way to keep your water from freezing!

Sky, meanwhile, had a long gray, dreadlocked beard. He wore a boonie cap with an AZT patch and shared that he’d thru-hiked the AZT in 2021 while recovering from cancer. She-Ra helped support his hike by meeting him at trailheads that year, and she soon fell in love with the trail, too. So now it was her turn to hike the AZT with Sky in tow.

She-ra explained how they were doing a “flip-flop car hop.” Or at least that’s what she called it. They used two vehicles to shuttle themselves between trailheads every few days. They’d park their camper at one trailhead, then drive a car to another trailhead before walking 40-60 miles back to their camper. 

Sometimes they would head northbound like the rest of the spring AZT hikers. And other times they’d hike southbound (like they were now). It just depended which way they wanted to go through each passage.

SUPERSTITIONS

After parting ways with Sky & She-Ra, I found myself needing to redouble my focus. This part of the trail involved a ton of route finding through knee-high yellow grass. Small wooden AZT signs were tacked to trees in spots, but it was very easy to lose your way since the signs were the same hue as the trunks.

In many cases, you couldn’t even see the trail until you were right on it. I accidentally veered off onto a game trail once, but didn’t even realize it until the small trial petered out. By then, the real AZT was impossible to see because it was 50 or more yards away and completely concealed by the tall grass so I had to backtrack.

As I continued north through the terrain, I saw why the indigenous inhabitants thought these mountains were haunted. Even though I wasn’t changing elevation much, I kept hitting pockets of cold air and then pockets of warm air. It was the eeriest feeling.

As I got closer to Reavis Creek, I saw that there were so many wonderful camping spots. I spotted two ladies in the process of breaking down their tents and thought how wonderful it would have been if I could have made it all the way here last night. But that would have been impossible. Maybe Lucky Larry made it this far yesterday. He was hiking 25-30 mile days, but not me.

I briefly stopped at Reavis Creek to tank up with water and enjoy a mid-morning snack (aka second breakfast). And as I sat there letting gravity do most of the work pulling the creek water through my filter, the two ladies I spotted earlier came over to join me. 

Their trail names were Buff (because she always wore a buff while hiking) and Wrong Way (due to her poor sense of direction). They were great conversationalists, and we chatted about several other long trails, including the Oregon Coast Trail, which I’d hiked last summer. They wanted to hike it someday soon, so I shared thoughts about my favorite sections of the OCT just to whet their appetite.

ROCKY ROAD

The morning remained overcast until around 10 am, and then the sun broke out through the clouds and changed the feel of the day entirely. It was now getting quite warm and the bugs were starting to emerge.

As I continued deeper into the Superstitions, the trail grew more and more rugged and rocky. Chunky vermillion rocks emerged from the landscape and towered above my route.

 Meanwhile, the trail itself seemed to be fairly slick with loose rocks and dirt. More than once I had to catch myself slipping on little mini landslides because the soles of my shoes had so little tread left on them. I started to nickname this terrain the ‘rocky road’ because that’s precisely what it felt like for the next several miles.

Just before 11 am, I passed Pine Creek – one of the few water sources deep in this part of the backcountry. I internally debated whether to get more water here, knowing that day would only get hotter. 

I still had a liter of water left though, and the bright orange color of the pools was incredibly unappealing. What sort of minerals or debris had to be in there? A noticeable sulfur smell was coming from the creek too, so I decided I’d pass. Surely there would have to be a better water source ahead of me.

The trail changed directions after the unappealing creek, and now I could suddenly see the Four Peaks Wilderness off in the distance. These distinctive mountains were the next terrain I’d head through after the Superstitions.

It was obvious how the feature got its name. Four distinct peaks emerged from the jagged mountains. And although they looked incredibly far away, I knew it would only be a few days before I was there.

TOO STEEP, TOO LITTLE WATER

After admiring the views of the Four Peaks, I knew I needed to return 100% of my focus to the terrain immediately before me. The AZT took a seriously sharp drop, descending 800 feet in barely half a mile! And then I had to scramble back up 1000 feet over the next mile. 

I was utterly exhausted by the time I was climbing up to the far side of this obstacle an hour later. It was nearing 1:45 pm, and I hadn’t even eaten lunch. I just needed to find some shade and stop. I knew I would bonk if I didn’t eat and drink something soon. 

Unfortunately, there was very little in the way of tall vegetation at the top of the ridge. Twice I though I found some potential shade to sit under, only to have to abandon my prospects at the last minute. The first time was due to an anthill situated exactly where I’d hoped to sit. The second time, the spot was filled with cactus. 

I sighed internally and eventually just plopped down with my umbrella near a leafless tree. I was too pooped to keep looking for shade.

I mentally calculated my hiking pace and realized I was going abysmally slow today. I could see Roosevelt Lake from my position up on the ridge, but I knew I wasn’t making it there until sometime tomorrow.

These last 11.7 miles through the Superstitions took me a full 6.5 hours to hike. I normally hike at a 2.5 to 3 mph pace, not a 1.8 mph crawl! But honestly, that speed was as fast as I could muster through this terrain.

I sat there resting under my umbrella’s meager circle of shade calculating how much longer it would take to hike the next six miles to my next water source at Cottonwood Spring. I barely had half a liter of water remaining and it was just so hot.

In hindsight, I realized being so picky about my water was a mistake. I should have filled up at least one bottle from the orange, sulfur water source instead of walking by it and hoping for something better. That gamble hadn’t worked out in my favor. I desperately wanted to chug the remaining 12 ounces of warm water but I knew I couldn’t. I needed to manage and conserve it instead.

MOVE OVER, BROS!

Lunch gave me a small energy boost, but I still felt parched after rationing a few precious sips of water. I felt dizzy as I made my way up the afternoon’s final big hill. My mouth was cottony, but I knew I could only afford to take occasional sips of water. The sun sizzled on my face and shoulders, and all I could think about was how thirsty I was.

I was partially up the hill, feeling the full effort of the day when I spotted two southbound hikers heading my way. As the gap closed, the two young men remained on the trail, never once showing any sign of yielding to me (the uphill hiker). 

This lack of trail etiquette infuriated me more than it normally would have. I was hot. I was low on water. And I was using all my limited energy to climb this hill with my heavy pack. But these two “bros” were powering down the trail like it belonged to them.     

I refused to step off the trail in this game of “chicken.” But they stayed the course too, walking directly toward me and then stopping right in the middle of the single track trail and blocking my way. Then, the hiker in the lead looked directly at me and demanded to know where the next water source was ahead of them. 

OK, perhaps he asked me more than demanded. But I was so mentally worked up about breaking my pace and stopping on this hill that I may have attributed a bit more malice to his tone of voice. I was just so thirsty. And my mouth was far too dry to have this conversation with them.

I replied politely, though, telling them about Pine Creek and its orange, sulfur-smelling water about eight miles back (though they’d have a doozy of a descent and ascent before that). And Walnut Spring should be a mile closer, but I never saw it, so I couldn’t verify what might be there. 

Meanwhile, I still had four miles left until my own water source. But my anger was only simmering now instead of boiling. I’d resigned myself to being civil and trying to regulate my emotions until I got to Cottonwood Spring.

COTTONWOOD 

I could see Roosevelt Lake again in the distance from the top of the next hill. But I tried desperately to turn off the part of my brain looking at the blue shimmer and thinking, “water, water, water.” I just needed to put one foot in front of the other and keep going. Eventually, I’d get there.

The trail on the hill’s back side was about as bad as anything I’d endured today. It was super steep and my knees cramped as I tried to catch myself from skidding toward a fall more than once. But then the terrain flattened a bit and I noticed there were cows everywhere.

I scanned my surroundings desperately looking for a metal tank or somewhere these cows might be getting water, but I couldn’t see a darn thing. I’d have to just keep walking.

I hiked down through a dry, sandy wash until nearly 5 pm, constantly checking my FarOut App to see how far I had to go before I reached Cottonwood Spring. Cottonwood trees were everywhere, so where was the spring?

When I finally arrived, I didn’t even have the patience to filter my water in my clear bottles. Instead, I scooped a liter of spring water into my water bladder and greedily sucked it through my Sawyer filter like a baby with a bottle. Only when my belly was bloated from water, did I take the time actually to fill my bottles for the evening.

I initially hoped to set up camp somewhere nearby this spring, so that I could be close to water. But two section hikers were already set up in the singular flat spot I could see. So I hiked on, ambling slowly down the trail beside Cottonwood Creek’s rocky bed searching for the first good spot where I could put a tent.

The AZT kept going in and out of the same dry wash, and I was growing frustrated with the lack of potential campsites. It wasn’t quite as dire as my search on the way up toward Reavis Ridge last night, but nothing was panning out. Everything seemed sloped or covered in brush.

And so I kept walking until it was nearly dark and I got to the Cottonwood Trailhead – a full 20.2 miles into the day. After a miserably hot and dry day, I set my tent up under a tall tree in some grass, hoping there wouldn’t be too much condensation in the morning. 

On the positive side though, a large metal tank of water sat beside this trailhead. I could have as much water as I wanted to rehydrate myself throughout the night. And I was only three miles from the Roosevelt Lake Marina where my next resupply package awaited me.

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Highlights

• I met some interesting hikers today – including She-Ra and Sky (on their flip-flop car hop) and then Buff and Wrong Way.
• The views of Roosevelt Lake and the Four Peaks Wilderness were fantastic. Too bad I was too thirsty to enjoy them fully.
• Although I hadn’t planned to push such a big day, I’m proud of myself for making 20 miles! And tomorrow morning I’ll be completely done with the Superstitions!

Challenges

• Today was the hardest terrain so far. My shoes were definitely unsuited for it, and I was just moving super slow.
• I cut it way too close with my water today! I was too picky and had to ration my water unnecessarily. I need to be smarter about my logistics going forward.