March 30, 2022

• Start:  Highway 87 near the Mogollon Rim Ranger Station (mile 486.4)
• End:  Stealth spot on the AZT (mile 497.1)
• Distance:  10.7 miles

After another night in a hotel in Winslow, Volt, Elliot, and I were eager to return to the trail. Today, the weather looked cool but clear, and no more snow was forecasted, so it was time to get back to it.

We checked out of our hotel before it was even 8 a.m., and then the three of us walked back to McDonald’s where we’d had breakfast yesterday. There was always time for hot breakfast before we returned to eating the dry provisions in our packs.

This morning, McDonald’s was crowded, so we sat in a booth near the back. In the booth across from us, an old Native American man with rheumy eyes and thin shoulders sat by himself. He seemed to want to start a conversation with anyone who happened to walk by him on their way to the bathroom.

He told us he was from the Navajo nation, but kept telling detouring into a tangent about how the Apache people were the best warriors. He kept repeating himself over and over again, and soon it became clear he was just a lonely old guy, hanging out at McDonald’s for some social contact.

When he saw our packs, he tried to give Elliot his breakfast sandwich too, but the guy looked like he needed every calorie he could get. This wasn’t like the couple who drove us to the trailhead in Pine and gave us $60. This guy appeared like someone barely making ends meet on Social Security benefits.

A half hour later, we decided it was time to get going. We needed to return to the edge of town, hiking through a pedestrian tunnel under the railroad lines and back toward Highway 87 if we expected to get a hitch back up to the trail.

NOT A GREAT PLACE

We should have done some research on Winslow before we attempted to hitchhike from there though. If you look at the town on a map, you’d see that I-40 runs along its northern end, taking drivers to Flagstaff (60 miles to our west) or toward New Mexico (105 miles to our east). Most of the road traffic in Winslow seemed to be heading back to I-40 after a quick stop in town for gas or food.

Meanwhile, Highway 87 didn’t have a lot of traffic at all this morning. We’d stationed ourselves on the far edge of town, hoping anyone heading on to Highway 87 was taking the long drive across the Colorado Plateau toward Happy Jack or Pine.

After standing there for over an hour, only a dozen cars seemed to pass us, and not a single driver even glanced in our direction. It was just us and the tumbleweeds waiting on the edge of town.

I was losing hope when a man in a pickup truck finally pulled over. Elliot went over to talk to him and ask for a ride to the trailhead, but the guy shook his head. He wasn’t going that far. But he would take us up the road about 5 miles for a few bucks of gas money. 

Then he explained that we probably weren’t having any luck getting a ride because the state prison was three miles down Highway 87. People weren’t used to picking up hitchhikers near a prison, and the bulk of the traffic we were likely to see driving between Winslow and the prison was for the guards who worked there. 

But at least he was willing to take up a few miles up the road. And that got us a few miles closer to the trailhead. He dropped us off near a metal water tank for a nearby cattle ranch, and we hoped this spot would bring better luck. It was after 10 a.m. already and we were striking out, despite our cardboard sign that read “Arizona Trail.”

The rest of the morning was equally fruitless though, and it was just starting to rain and hail on us when a woman stopped her SUV to pick us up. She said she’d seen us standing on the side of the highway on her way into town over two hours ago, and she silently promised herself she’d try to give us a ride if we were still standing there when she was driving back.  

She was only willing to give us a ride as far as her turn off in Blue Ridge. That would leave us five miles shy of the trail, but it was a heck of a lot better than standing out on the side of Highway 87. So we said we’d take the ride.

Forty minutes later, she was letting us out again on the side of the highway again. We were almost there, and I only had to flash my Arizona Trial sign one more time before a big black pickup stopped to give us our final ride to the trail.  

It took us three hitches and five long hours, but we finally made it back to the place where we’d left the trail two days earlier!

BACK ON THE AZT

When we stepped back on the trail just after 1 p.m., I was itching to begin hiking. And as we headed north, I was shocked to see that the trail wasn’t completely covered in snow. Maybe the delay in getting a hitch to the trailhead had worked in our favor! Half a day of sunshine at high elevation had seemed to melt off much of the new snow.

The melting snow left the trail flooded and muddier than ever in places, which made our initial miles seem ridiculously slow. And then there was the frustration of having to ford the same knee-high, muddy river three separate times, because the Arizona Trail kept switching which side of the river it ran along. 

At least the sky was blue, and the afternoon warmed into the mid-50s. Yet just as I started to appreciate being back outdoors, we walked into the most insane mud. Comparing it to thick peanut butter or pancake batter would be an understatement. 

There were just miles and miles of mud, and it would clump onto our shoes so thickly that it was hard to even move after just a few steps. Every 30 seconds or so, I would have to stop and use my poles (or a nearby rock) to try to scrape the mud off my soles to keep it from pulling my ridiculously heavy shoes straight off my feet. 

The mud slowed my pace to a mere 1.75 miles per hour! It was so frustrating and absurd that I wanted to laugh and cry simultaneously. I was expending so much effort and going barely anywhere. 

Prior AZT thru-hikers told me I’d be flying once I got above the Mogollon Rim. They promised the opportunity to push 25-mile days without a problem. Maybe that was true when the trail was dry, but not today. It was 100% exhausting and demoralizing.

Slow progress

A bit before 6 p.m., I stopped at the oddly named Foot in Tree tank to get water for the evening. The tank itself was filled with water that looked like chocolate milk, and I sighed audibly. Why was this day so damn hard??

But then I realized yesterday’s snowstorm could work in my favor. Rather than relying on the pool of brown water in the earthen pond, I was able to head a bit uphill and grab some of the snow melt draining down toward the tank instead. Minor victories like this keep you going.

When Volt caught up to me, we spent some time checking out our surroundings near the tank to see if there was anywhere decent we might set up camp nearby. Unfortunately, everything seemed completely flooded or muddy, so we agreed to keep walking. We’d have to wait and snag the next reasonable spot we saw.

About another half mile up the trail, I spotted some distinct turkey tracks in the soft ground. But still no good places to set up camp.

Eventually we settled on a random spot off the AZT that seemed semi-dry, flattish, and not too rocky. It was barely wide enough for two tents, but at least it was elevated enough that water hopefully wouldn’t drain through our campsite overnight. 

After cooking dinner and settling in, I checked my GPS to see how far we hiked this afternoon. Sadly, we’d only been able to hike a bit over 10 miles in the last 5.5 hours. The mud was simply killing our progress. What a disappointment!

But at least we’d pass the 500-mile mark tomorrow, and then it was only another 300 miles to Utah!

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Highlights

• Although it took us way more effort and time to get back to the trail than we’d hoped, at least the delay gave the snow on the trail some time to melt off. Finding the trail was fairly easy this afternoon.
• Avoiding the muddy tank in favor of fresh snow melt felt like a major win.
• The turkey prints in the mud were quite impressive. I’m not sure I’ve seen any wild turkeys on trail yet, and this one looks like a big guy!

Challenges

• We should have reconnoitered our hitching spot a bit better. Looking for a ride barely three miles from a state prison is not a recipe for success.
• The thick mud this afternoon was utterly absurd. Thanks to this sticky nonsense, I can’t believe how slow my pace is! But at least I’m not trudging through 5″ of fresh snow.
• Trying to find a campsite this evening was more challenging than ever. Everywhere I looked this evening seemed to be underwater (or in a potential flood zone), too rocky, or just covered in mud. Ugh!