March 24, 2022
- Start: Junction with Sheep Creek Trail (Mile 390)
- End: Chisolm Camp (Mile 409.7)
- Distance: 19.7 miles
Waking up this morning wasn’t quite as comfortable as the hotel bed in Payson yesterday, but it definitely wasn’t bad. The small spot where Volt and I squeezed our tents into was right at the top of a hill, and the sun hitting my tent gave everything a nice warm feeling amidst all the the cold mountain air.
We’d soon discover there were several much larger campsites about 0.6 miles further up the trail near some water. But those spots were also sandwiched between several peaks causing them to be in the shade until mid day. So I still feel like we had the better (if more cramped) spot to set up camp.
MILE 400
There were plenty of streams flowing near the trail during the first three or four miles of the day, and I ended up stopping to tank up about an hour into the morning right before heading up a big, long climb.
The slope wasn’t terribly hard, but it was frustratingly long and my legs were feeling the burn. Several large trees were downed across the path, with steps cut into the tops of them, proving that trail maintainers sometimes made it this deep into the Mazatzal Wilderness.
Small insects swarmed my head and face – trying to get into my eyes, nose, and ears. But since I didn’t bring a head net on this hike, so there was nothing to do about it but repeatedly swat at them and endure the frustration.
As I climbed higher and hit the northern slopes of some of the mountains, snow appeared on the trail partially covering my path. I haven’t seen snow in a while, but I was now hiking at elevation again, and so I probably should have expected it.
I saw some videos from prior AZT hikers around the same time of year (late March) and they were getting snowed on so heavily that some of them had to turn back and head back to Payson. Several of them even skipped the Mazatzals entirely for safety reasons and jumped ahead to Pine.
Looking around at the steep slopes beside the trail, I could see why a hiker would make that decision. This was not where I’d want to battle the snow.
Just after noon, I passed the 400-mile mark of my thru-hike, and boy, what a feeling! I’ve walked 400 miles since departing the US-Mexico border. I could feel the pride swelling in my chest and I stopped to build another marker out of rocks.
If all goes well, I’ll be standing in Utah at the AZT’s northern terminus in less than three weeks’ time. Hell yes!!
CLOTHESLINE
The AZT kept climbing after the 400-mile mark, through forests of thin pine trees as I worked my way up toward one high point, then halfway down before heading up to the next (even higher) summit.
This happened several times as I continued north up toward a terrain feature simply called ‘the saddle’ in my navigation app. It was around 7,000 feet elevation and was the highest points the AZT went over in the Mazatzals before heading back down toward the trailhead near Pine in another 50 miles.
As I crested the saddle, it was completely covered by grass and trees, and looked more like a hilltop than a dip in the terrain. Three hikers were already there, chilling in the shade next to a giant pyramid of cardboard boxes.
The first hiker was an energetic gal named Clothesline. She started the AZT with her brother (John the Baptist), but he got really sick early on and had to get off trail until he recovered. So here she was, on her very first thru-hike, and rocking it solo.
I asked about her trail name, and she told me how she was hiking near Kentucky Camp when she saw all these pieces of pink ribbon clipped to trees with clothespins. I knew exactly what she was talking about. Those were the same race flags I’d seen from the Old Pueblo 50-mile endurance run on day four of my hike!
Clothesline was just hiking along and minding her own business when one of the race organizers caught up to her. Then he asked if she wouldn’t mind grabbing any of the ribbons she saw clothes-pinned to branches along the course and just deposit them at the finish line. He was essentially roping the AZT thru-hikers into helping him clean up the course markers.
By the time she reached the finish line, she had dozens of the ribbon markers clothes-pinned to her pack. And the name stuck! Clothesline even had one of the pink race markers still fastened to her pack for good luck!
Beside Clothesline sat two other AZT thru-hikers too. A guy from British Columbia, named Taejen (which rhymed with cajun) and a young guy named Double Take, who worked as kindergarten teacher back in Texas. But I was more interested in the boxes they were leaning against. They looked completely out of place up here in the middle of nowhere!
Upon closer inspection, I could see the words “FOR HIKERS” was marked in thick black marker on the outside of each one. It turns out they were part of an AZT water cache, and each cardboard box held a 5-gallon bladder full of water!
We spent a few minute speculating how all these boxes of water got up on this remote hill deep in Mazatzals. Each one weighed close to 42 pounds. Surely they didn’t have a bunch of volunteers carrying them up here from the closest trailhead. That would be insane! Even a horse would struggle with a single box, and balancing the load for the ride up here would be very uncomfortable.
MAZATZAL VIEWS
Clothesline, Taejen, and Double Take took off while I hung around at the saddle waiting another 20 minutes for Volt to catch me for lunch. I needed some good conversation for the next stretch of the afternoon to take my mind off the aches and pains that were settling in. I was just so tired this afternoon and my back hurt too.
Once Volt and I got going again, we could see Humphreys Peak way up to our north and covered in snow. Humphreys Peak is the tallest mountain in the state at 12,637 feet and located near Flagstaff – which was still more than 150 miles north of here. But soon we’d be there!
A bit closer in, I found myself focused on one of the wide mountains ahead of us that looked like an optical illusion. Waves of red zigzagged across its surface and they almost seemed to move like a mirage as I changed position with the trail.
Volt and I hiked through more patchy snow, and before eventually starting our descent toward our intended camp spot several miles ahead.
Our vantage point high up in the Mazatzals provided plenty of good views, and everything to our west was so damn green. But the trail soon became frustrating as the path turned from dirt to loose shale and baseball-sized rocks and I had to slow my pace while Volt pulled ahead of me.
CHILSON SPRING
After an hour of hiking alone, I caught Volt again about three-quarters of a mile from our evening water spot. We got to talking again and walked right over a great stream that was flowing directly across the trail. The was where we really should have stopped to grab our water there.
Instead, we waited until we got to Chilson Spring, which sounded like a good water source until we realized it was 150 feet off the trail and up a hill that was steeper than anything we’d had to climb all day.
I grumbled more than my fair share of curse words as I forced my body up the steep incline to the spring, only to discover that the concrete tank holding the water so green with slimy algae that you had to skim the frothy substance off the water’s surface.
But this gross water was all we had, and it was nearing the end of the day. We needed water for dinner tonight and breakfast in the morning. So the two of us decided to go for it. We used whatever we had in our packs to pre-filter out largest floating slime and protect our water filters from clogging. But it still took forever to filter our water this way.
This chore took up until 6 pm and there wasn’t much light left. We’d originally been aiming for Hopi Spring as a potential camp spot, but that was another three miles up the trail. The sun would be setting soon and we needed to pivot and find something else. My body didn’t have three more miles of energy left.
Barely five minutes down the AZT we hit the junction with the Brody Seep Trail, which was supposed to have a number of really wide open horsepacking campsites at Chilson Camp. The camp was about a quarter mile off the AZT down rocky side trail that threatened to turn my ankle if I wasn’t careful.
One we got to the camp though, Volt and I had the entire place to ourselves. And then the sun hit the mountains immediately above us, turning them a deep vermillion color. Yes, this campsite would do nicely.
Highlights
- Mile 400 and seeing Humphreys Peak in the distance after lunch was amazing.
- Finding a cache of boxed water in the middle of nowhere might have been the highlight of the day. I suspect it got there by helicopter sling load, but it was fun speculating all the potential methods with Clothesline, Taejen, and Double Take.
- Although I really wanted to hike further today, our campsite at Chilson Camp was a gem. So much room and plenty of good views at sunset.
Challenges
- The climbs today were well-graded but just so dang long. Volt and I started the day around 5,000 feet elevation, climbed above 7,100 feet, and returned back down to 5,700. But it was a rollercoaster of a ride.
- This deep in the backcountry there were a few more challenges – from downed trees to snowy trail. But I know the AZT is supposed to get easier after Pine and the Mogollon Rim.
- My body felt like it was lagging all day. Little aches and pains from the last 400 miles are starting to build up.