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. The weather looked cool, but clear today. And there was no more snow in the upcoming forecast, 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 over to the McDonald’s where we’d had breakfast yesterday. There as always time for hot breakfast before we returned to eating the dry provisions in our packs.

McDonald’s was quite crowded this morning, so we found a seat in a booth near the back. An old Native American guy with rheumy eyes and thin shoulders say by himself in the booth across from us. He seemed to want to start a conversation with anyone who happened to walk him by on their way to the bathroom.

He told us he was from the Navajo nation, but kept telling detouring into a tangent about how of 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 was a guy who looked like he was barely making ends meet on Social Security benefits.

Before long we decided it was time to get going. We’d need to get 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 out of town.

NOT A GREAT PLACE

Perhaps we should have done a little bit of research on Winslow before we attempted to hitchhike from there though. If you look at it 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).The vast majority of the road traffic in Winslow seemed to be heading back out to I-40 after a quick stop in town for gas or food.

Meanwhile, Highway 87 didn’t have a lot of traffic it at all this morning. We’d stationed ourselves on the far edge of town, hoping that 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 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 starting to lose 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 the reason we probably weren’t having any luck getting a ride was 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 us a ride as far as her turn off in Blue Ridge. That would leave us with five miles shy of the trail, but it was a heck of a lot better than standing out on the side of the 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 once 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

It was after 1 p.m. now, so all of us were eager to just get hiking. Yet as we headed north, I was shocked to see 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 needed to ford the same knee-high, muddy river three separate times, because the Arizona Trail kept switching which side of the river it was going to be on. 

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

There was just miles and miles of mud, and it would clump up 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 just to keep it from pull my ridiculously heavy shoes straight off my feet. 

The mud was slowing my pace down to a mere 1.75 miles per hour! It was just so frustrating and absurd, and want to laugh and cry at the same time. 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 and pushing 25-mile days no problem. And 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 that yesterday’s snow storm could work in my favor. Rather than relying on the pool of brown water sitting in the earthen pond, I was able to head a bit uphill and grab some of the snow melt draining down toward the tank it instead. It’s the minor victories like this that keep you going.

When Volt to caught up to me, we spent some time check 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 on walking. We’d just have to wait and snag the next reasonable spot we saw.

About another half mile up the trail, and 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 just off the AZT that seemed to be 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 actually 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 way more effort and time to get back to the trail than I’d hoped, at least it gave the snow on the trail some time to melt off. Finding the trail was fairly easy this afternoon.
• Avoiding the muddy tank this evening in favor or 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 out here on trail yet, and this one looks like a big guy!

Challenges

• We should have reconnoitered our hitching spot a bit better. Trying to get a ride barely three miles from a state prison is not a recipe for success.
• The thick mud this afternoon was utterly absurd. I can’t believe how slow my pace is thanks to this sticky nonsense! 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!