March 25, 2022
- Start: Chilson Camp (Mile 409.7)
- End: Near Polk Spring (Mile 430.6)
- Distance: 20.9 miles
Even though last night’s tent site sat at roughly the same elevation as our hilltop spot the night before, it felt much warmer at Chilson Camp. So warm, in fact, that I woke up in the middle of the night sweating and had to take my beanie off and unzip my quarter-zip wool top.
I’m not complaining though. This might be one of the last mild nights on trail for a while. Once I get north of the Mogollon Rim in a few days, I’ll be consistently hiking at about 6,500 to 7,000 feet elevation as I hike across the Colorado Plateau.
Moreover, the weather forecast shows the potentially for snow early next week. So I’ll enjoy the warm, dry nights as long as I can get them.
HORSE CAMP REDUX
Volt and I were hiking out of the Chilson Horse Camp around 7:15 am this morning. The first order of business was to return up the AZT via a super rocky side trail that made my poor feet wail.
Nonetheless, I’m still glad we decided to stop at the horse camp last night instead of pushing on. It was a solid 45 minutes into our morning before we spotted a single flat spot where either of us *might* have been able to set up a tent last night. The quarter-mile of rocks up from Chilson Camp was a small price to pay for a guaranteed flat space.
There were several good water sources throughout the morning, including one that flowed right across the trail forming a nice pool before dropping off a steep edge into a waterfall.
We passed another horse camp a bit further up the trail too. But unlike the one Volt and I stayed at last night, this one actually had a number of horsepackers gearing up for the trail.
I didn’t get a clear count of how many horses and riders there were because a thick band of trees between the trail and the camp. But I could hear the horses snorting and nickering, as I wondered if the trail party heading our way or in the opposite direction. I guess only time would tell.
Around 9:15 am, Volt and I made it to a series of ledges, and ran into three hikers taking a quick break. It was the Three Amigos once again! They’d pulled ahead of us we went into Payson two days ago. And now we were crossing paths with each other through the Mazatzals.
Looking north from the cliff-like ledges, the five of took in the snow-capped views Humphreys Peak and all the terrain between here and there. It was yet another clear and cloudless March day out here on the Arizona Trail, and mercury was already rising.
PEPé LE PEW
We took off from the ledges in our separate groups again, following the trail through pumice rocks that provided ample evidence of the state’s volcanic past. But we didn’t make it far before stopping again though, this time in a sandy creek filled with water.
The Three Amigos caught back up to Volt and me again, and then we were all joined by a completely new hiker I hadn’t met yet. He was a Quebecer who introduced himself as Elliott in a French accent that reminded me of the cartoon skunk Pepé Le Pew.
I almost laughed when he opened his mouth because the charming accent didn’t match his current appearance at all. He was dressed like a typical long distance hiker in shorts and a sun hoody. But he’d also flattened out an empty cardboard McDonalds pie box and taped it to the brim of his hat to extend its sun protection a few extra inches. His look was 100% hikertrash, while his accent leaned toward French couture.
When our water was filtered and our snacks were eaten, we all packed up and headed north into the roller coaster of hill ahead of us. The trail’s tread vacillated between rocks and smooth trail, yet every time I hit a reprieve of smooth trail, the bugs seemed to swarm around my head. The morning was full of just one form or pain or another, convincing me nothing was truly easy in the Mazatzals.
The Three Amigos, Volt, and I had all accordion-ed out over about a half mile, but eventually converged again during our lunchtime stop at “The Seeps.” Milky pools of water sat next to the trail and there’s was lots of pine duff to sit on under the shade of the nearby pine trees.
I didn’t plan stop again for water until I got to the East Verde River in another 10 miles, so I gathered two full liters and let it gravity filter while I got to know the Three Amigos better and learned the full story of how they’d met years ago.
It’s inspiring to see these guys hiking nearly the same distance as Volt and me each day. I genuinely hope I still have the stamina and determination to take on thru-hiking long trails when I’m in my 60s and beyond.
WHere’s VOLT?
After lunch, Volt and I decided to hike separately for the rest of the afternoon, agreeing to meet up near mile 425 just before the trail made its long descent to the East Verde River.
Everything was going well too. There were a few more big climbs and lots more bugs. And I nearly missed a sharp 90-degree right turn where the AZT dirverged from the Brush Trail, but I glanced up at just the right moment. If I’d been listening to music or a podcast, I might have walked right past the sign and continued straight ahead just like I had a few days ago on the jeep road.
Soon thereafter, I passed the Brush Springs area, a nice flat spot which seemed to be busy with weekend backpackers and dogs that barked loudly at me as I hiked beyond them. Manzanita trees lined the trail and bees buzzed overhead. And then I was making my way up to the top of the final 1.5 mile-long climb of the day under the blazing hot sun as sweat poured down my back, arms, and face.
When I finally reached the top of the climb near mile 425, I was physically beat. The sun felt like it was scorching my head, even with my sun hood pulled over my hat for protection. At least the rest of the day was supposed to be downhill. I just needed to find some shade to sit under and wait for Volt to catch up with me.
I found a nice tree where the trail crested the hill and I sat leaning against it’s trunk looking out at the green valley to my north. I rested in that spot, just enjoying the views and relaxing as a full ten minutes elapsed. Then fifteen. I glanced back in the direction I’d come from every so often, expecting to see Volt striding toward me, but he never appeared.
At the twenty-five minute mark, a pair of hikers came up the AZT and headed over to me. I peppered them with questions. Had they seen a younger guy named Volt? He wearing an olive-colored sun hoody. Was he right behind them? But they just shrugged in response and told me they hadn’t seen anyone other than the people camping at Brush Springs.
The duo continued north down toward the East Verde River while I resumed my wait, wondering how long I should remain there. Why hadn’t Volt caught up to me? He was never more than 10 minutes behind me this morning. Had his pace really slowed down that much since lunch?
After sitting there for close to an hour, I finally gave up. I still needed to get down to the river – which was nearly five miles head – and then I had to figure out where I wanted to camp after that. I’d wasted an hour of daylight just sitting here waiting for Volt.
RAW NERVES
I felt a number of conflicting emotions as I began my descent down the trail. I worried that maybe Volt had gotten hurt or lost. Then I felt frustrated that I couldn’t just text him to check that everything was ok. Should I have waited longer? Would he understand that I continued on without him?
Five minutes later, my concern turned to pessimism as I continued to descend to a lower elevation. I bristled over Volt not meeting up with me like we’d arranged. We’d made plans to stop at the top of the climb and hike to camp together. I’d waited there a friggin hour for him! Was I just being a fool? Was this his subtle way of brushing me off and saying he didn’t want us to hike together any longer?
A bit further down the trail, I tried to remember that Volt wasn’t my actual hiking partner. We’d barely even knew each other. He was under no obligation to hike on my timeline. But that didn’t change the fact that I really enjoyed hiking with him and Mad Max, and wanted to hang out with them.
All these thoughts (and more) raced through my head the AZT plunged toward the East Verde River, but then I had to put my pity party and insecurities on hold to refocus as the trail suddenly took an unexpected jog uphill.
WTF was this?!? I was supposed to be descending 3,000 feet, not going up! Was I on the wrong trail somehow?My emotions shifted again, this time to irritation, and I pulled out my phone to confirm I was on track. The elevation profile confirmed the next one-third of a mile was a steep ascent, and then I’d return to the long drop to the river.
As I tucked my phone back away, I was annoyed at the trail for going up, when it should be going down. I was angry about Volt bailing on me. Bitterness and hurt coursed through me like a raw nerve, and I had use every bit of effort to wipe the scowl off my face before I crossed paths with two happy hikers and their Australian shepherd dog heading uphill.
In that moment I realized I just needed to get over myself. Why was I letting such a small thing irritate me so much? The trail was beautiful today. The air was warming up, even though I was in shadows. The drop in elevation was adding an extra 5.4 degrees for each 1000 feet I descended. Hopefully that meant another balmy night where I didn’t have to bundle up.
And then the trail level out, taking me through an area where the ground and vegetation was covered with hundreds of fuzzy black caterpillars. Imagine if every one of these insects turned into butterflies over the next month! It would be fantastically beautiful here. This nature around me was where my attention and focus should lie, not on some petty disappointment.
EAST VERDE
I finally made it down to the bank of the East Verde River at nearly 6:20 pm. It was a just before dusk and I needed to make a decision. Did I just stop here and set up camp near the water source and hope Volt caught up to me? Or did I just continue hiking my own hike until dark and let the chips fall where they may?
I decided to split the difference. Another hiker already had his tent pitched near where I planned to ford the river. I asked him to keep an eye out for a hiker named Volt. If he came by, please let him know I was continuing on another mile, just past Polk Spring.
Then I removed my shoes and I forded the wide river, using the cool water to wash my feet, legs, and face once I got to the opposite bank. I swear I’m filthier right now that I’ve been this entire trail. I feel like that fictional Peanuts cartoon character Pig-Pen with a cloud of dirt enveloping me wherever I go.
As I put my dirty socks back on my wet feet, I discovered another hole one one of the toes. And I had a new blister. This day… I was just so ready for it to be over. The emotional roller coaster I’d been on all afternoon left me exhausted. I just needed head toward Polk Spring and call it a day.
Unfortunately, the area where the AZT passed Polk Spring wasn’t a great place to camp. The ground was either too sloped and had too much cactus. So I kept walking until nearly 7 pm, scanning my environs for anything semi-flat and clear of prickly brush.
When I finally found a spot, I pitched tent up immediately off-trail just to make sure it was visible in the dark if Volt made it this far this evening. And just I finished cooking my dinner, I saw a headlamp bobbing up the trail in the dark.
The beam hit my tent as it got closer, and Volt called out, “Sisu?” He hadn’t ditched me after all. In fact, he was excited and relieved to finally catch up to me. And he dumped his pack on the opposite side of the trail with an exhausted sigh.
For the next 10 minutes, Volt sat beside me regaling me with the troubles of his afternoon. He’d missed the sharp turn for the AZT (the same one I nearly flubbed after lunch) and continued walking for close to two miles west before he realized his error. Then he had to backtrack in the hot sun. Four extra miles of walking. For nothing!
I guess this afternoon was an emotional one for both of us! But, on the bright side, Volt and I were reunited. And the evening was warm enough that I didn’t even need to put the rainfly on my tent. I looked up at the stars and the night sky, and I drifted off to sleep feeling like a weight have been lifted.
Highlights
- It was nice to hang out for a bit with the Three Amigos. Seeing them out here really gives me hope that I may still have decades of backpacking and thru-hiking ahead of me.
- Sleeping without my rain fly and staring up at the warm night sky was wonderful. There’s no light blocking out the millions of stars overhead when you’re this deep in the mountains and away from civilization.
- I’m also done with the Mazatzals, and I only have one more day until I get my resupply box wiht my new trail shoes! Finally!!!
CHALLENGES
- Volt’s failure to show up at our meeting spot this afternoon put me in a bit of a tailspin. I’m not proud of how emotional it made me. It was very much like the frustration and abandonment I felt on the Appalachian Trail when it took me a week to catch back up to my trail family in Virginia.
- That 3000-foot descent toward the East Verde River was rough this afternoon. Discovering the steep uphill section (when I expected to be going down) nearly broke my heart.