April 5, 2022
- Start: Stealth spot near Bismarck Lake (mile 597.2)
- End: Rabbit Canyon on the Old AZT (mile 625.5)
- Distance: 28.3 miles
After yesterday post-holing debacle in the deep snow around Humphreys Peak in the late afternoon, I wasn’t in much of a mood to get up this morning. We were surrounded by snow in every direction. The wind had howled all night long – waking me repeatedly through the night and leaving me feeling unrested. I just wanted to stay nestled in this spot underneath the pine trees, which seemed to protect me from enduring anything bad.
I knew the temperature would drop significantly overnight. It was supposed be 17°F in Flagstaff, and that was nearly 1000 feel lower than my spot up her on in the mountains. So I used each of my waterproof socks as a sleeve or koozy around my two water bottles to keep them from freezing solid. I even slept with one of the bottles inside my bag all night long, just to ensure I’d have drinkable water for the morning.
This technique worked like a charm. My water didn’t freeze, but my waterproof socks were really cold. At least I would be able to make myself a hot cocoa this morning to get the day started right!
SO MUCH SNOW
Volt and I were prepared for another hard day in the snow. I checked the crowd sourced comments in FarOut and it showed another 3.5 to 4 miles of snow left before we’d drop down enough in elevation to get past it.
Based on yesterday’s ridiculously slow pace and post-holing through the elements, I mentally prepared myself for it to take us at least two to three hours’ time to hike this relatively short distance. Then I pulled on my new waterproof socks, my rain pants, and all my warm layers and called out to Volt to make sure he was ready to go. There was not way I was hiking solo this morning.
It was just after 7 am when we got started, and we were both hoping the snow would be more solid after refreezing overnight. Unfortunately, it didn’t seem to help all that much. We were still knee deep in many places, and went crashing through the icy drifts so many times that I eventually lost count.
I also discovered that my new “waterproof” socks were no better than the last pair. Perhaps these socks were made for people wearing boots, not trail runners. Because all I know is my feet were eventually cold and wet once again from all the snow.
MILE 600
Volt and I were hoping to intersect with an old forest road that bisected the AZT after just a few miles. We’d convinced ourselves that if we could just make our way to the road that led to Little Spring, we use it to avoid the upcoming switchbacks and (just maybe) return to firm ground.
This optimistic plan fell apart though. We made it to the junction where the forest road should have been, but it was completely invisible. Perhaps it was just buried under a few feet of snow. Or maybe the forest service stopped maintaining it years ago. Either way, there wasn’t anything apparent left of this supposed road for us to follow.
I sighed inwardly, the convinced Volt to roll the dice with an hike where the road had once been located. If nothing else, this off-trail route included patches of exposed ground every 50 yards or so (similar to the place that we camped last night). That simple fact seemed better than continuing to trudge through the deep snow on trail.
I hoped heading northwest on this trajectory would get us downhill faster than the back and forth of the switchbacks we were supposed to follow on the AZT for the next half mile. But it was also just a guessing game. We’d rely on navigation by dead reckoning, with a dash of bush whacking and breaking trail through the snow for good measure. That was our new plan to get to lower ground.
Somewhere along this snowy route of ours, we would have pass what should have been mile 600 of this this-thru hike. But we were no longer on the Arizona Trail, so I just marked the spot in the nearby snow and decided that would have to be good enough for the circumstances.
LOWER ELEVATION
As we descended, the path became more obvious and and we eventually rejoined the Arizona Trail near mile 601. A smattering of houses with snow-covered roofs appeared out of nowhere, and it felt as if we were heading out of the wilderness and closer to some sort of civilization.
Soon thereafter we crossed over an actual road and where there was barely any snow and manageable trail seemed to magically return. We finally found the light ad the end of the tunnel. No more damn snow!!!
Volt and I celebrated our victorious progress with second breakfast before heading down the dirt and mud that lay ahead. I’ve never been quite so happy to see mud. I guess just needed a bit of a perspective change. My new hierarchy of hiking surfaces on the AZT was: dirt, followed by rocks, then mud, and ice. Snow was definitely in last place now.
Great mountain views greeted us as we continued north away from the protection of the San Francisco peaks. But this transition also marked the point when the constant wind I’d heard blowing all night long finally hit us full force.
This wasn’t just a typical desert breeze to cool us off, but a constant barrage of wind that chapped my lips and forced me to wear my sunglasses to keep my eyes moist.
I hadn’t experienced gusts this fierce since that night when Mad Max, Volt, and I set up camp on the hill with the radio towers just above Roosevelt Lake. It was blowing so hard that even the brown plastic USFS trail markers were bending over at an 45-degree angle from the blasts. But at least we were done with the snow!
The rest of my morning was a combination of walking on wide, dry forest roads or on single track trail that seemed to parallel the roads. Behind me Humphreys Peak grew smaller, and it was hard to believe how difficult hiking on its slopes turned out to be. You never would have guessed that from its appearance from down here on lower ground.
WINDY & DRY
By the time lunchtime rolled around, I found that I desperately needed a break from the blustery wind. I found myself a spot just off trail where I could nestle down into the branches of some juniper bushes and let its thick cataphylls protect me. In fact, I’d buried myself so deep in the foliage that Volt nearly walked right past me and I had to call out to him.
After lunch, the hiking was easy – especially if you compared it to yesterday afternoon and this morning. I found myself making quick work of the miles and able to sustain something close to a 3.5-mph pace. If it wasn’t so windy, it might have been one of the nicer days on the trail too. The sun was shining overhead, and it felt neither too warm or too cold.
We passed a handful of interesting sights as we continued north — like a completely abandoned white tanker truck parked on the edge of a random dusty forest road. But the landscape itself wasn’t particularly riveting. Everything ahead of us just seemed so dry. It was nothing but shades of brown, tan, and sand punctuated by the olive green.
This was the desolate landscape that most people imagine when they think of the Arizona desert. But honestly, nothing in the last 600 miles had been all like this. It had been a bevy of mountains, hills, and interesting forests. This was the first time I really felt like I was in no man’s land, with the same monotonous feeling I had when I’d walked alongside the Oregon Dunes during my thru-hike of the Oregon Coast Trail last summer.
I spied a horned-toad just sitting on the dusty dirt road beyond one of the Arizona Trail gates. White prickly horns rose up from its scaly body and it seemed to be immobilized beside a rock. See this reptile instantly reminded me that I needed to raise my alertness for rattlesnakes and other potential hazards.
I’d been able to drop my guard for the past week since I’d been in so much water, mud, and snow. But this stretch of desert going north looked plenty dry.
COOL, CLEAR WATER
As we continued through the afternoon, the wind seemed to pick up even more. I found a single bar or cell service and checked the weather, which told me it we were experiencing 27 mph winds with gusts to 42 mph. Yep. That felt about right.
What’s more, the each time the trail shifted directions, the ever-present wind would assault me from a different angle. Sometimes it was a solid headwind, while other times it was blowing sideways against me. And no matter what direction it came from, it was always far too loud for me even to listen to my headphones (even with my sun hood pulled up over my ears).
Around 3 pm, I made it to junction with the trail that led south to East Cedar Tank, a large corrugated metal cistern filled with cool, clear water. A pipe poured spring water into the tank while the wind made choppy waves on the water’s surface.
There was so much water here that it was overflowing the edges of the tank and draining to a second earthen tank about 100 yards away on lower ground!
Volt and I stopped to fill up our bottles for the evening knowing that we weren’t likely to find anything more abundant than this until tomorrow. We’d passed a metal bear box earlier in the day that had a small water cache inside it. And there was a chance that the next bear box would have water cached there too. But neither of us was willing to risk it. Better to carry the extra water weight and keep all of our options open.
THE OLD AZT
About a mile after departing the tank, we reached the Cedar Ranch trailhead where Clothesline and her brother (St. John the Baptist) lay resting up against a metal bear box under a tree and out of the raging wind. I hadn’t seen Clothesline since the brewery in Pine, and I had yet to meet her brother since he had been recovering from whatever ailment pulled him off trail.
Volt and I’d just taken an extended break back at the water tank, but we dropped our packs and crouched next to the other two hikers who had their phones out and were currently discussing the potential merits of detour.
Up ahead, sat a thin narrow range of hills running north and south. The old AZT stayed to the east side of the hills, while a newly built section of the AZT ran on the hills’ west side. Then the two trails merged together again in another 10 miles and neither of the two routes was significantly different in length. Their main difference was simply what side of the hills you walked along.
There seemed to be two benefits to taking the ‘newer’ AZT. It went right past Babbitt Tank (another water source) in about three miles and it was an actual trail through the desert – as opposed to a wide dirt road that hiker might have to share with vehicles or OHVs.
Meanwhile, the ‘older’ AZT had its own singular benefit. It was nestled up to the east side of the hills, which would provide us with a respite from the ranging wind that we were all getting quite sick and tired of enduring. Since we all had enough water to bypass Babbitt Tank this evening, we collectively decided to gamble on the older route and take advantage of its natural protection from the wind.
PRIVATE PROPERTY??
Volt and I departed down the dirt road first and hiked together for the next few miles as we enjoyed the temporary reprieve from the constant noise of the wind. Sweet baby Jesus! Finally a little bit of a break!
After four miles of walking north, the dirt road made a sharp right turn and started heading east over a metal cattle guard. An AZT sticker was plastered to the metal fence post beside the cattle guard, and it seemed to be pointing us toward a large ranch. Yet we couldn’t tell where the trail was meant to head next.
It appeared that we needed to actually go through the ranch, but it wasn’t 100% apparent and we didn’t really want to trespass onto private property in the process of our thru-hike. Perhaps this ranch (and the confusing network of trails further ahead) was the reason why the AZT had been re-routed to the opposite side of the hills.
There was a newer looking house just off the road, and Volt and I stood there trying to figure out the best way to navigate this challenge. Should we go knock on the front door to ask permission to walk up the dirt road the seemed to go straight through their ranch?
Or should we just walk on the road and wait to see if someone objected to our presence? We could always claim ignorance. This was the old AZT. There was even a trail marker still here at the cattle guard to prove it. Was it reasonable (or safe) to just assume these land owners gave permission for the trail to run through here?
As we debated our options, Clothesline and her brother caught back up to us and we explained the dilemma. They promptly voted in favor of proceeding through the ranch unannounced and asking for forgiveness if we were met with resistance. We were clearly AZT hikers with backpacks, not cattle rustlers coming to thin out their herd. We would make sure to close any gates we went though and respectfully move across the property as quickly as possible.
So that’s exactly what we did, carefully sticking to the narrow dirt road as we navigated through the ranch to the trail beyond it. In the end, no one seemed to even be around, let alone care that we were hiking through the ranch.
CLOTHESLINE
After our detour through the ranch, we lost our precious protection from the wind. It was past 5 pm now, and the blustery gusts showed no signs of dying down. If anything, they seemed to be even stronger. Setting up a tent anywhere out here on the exposed desert terrain was just asking for it to blow down.
We’d have to hike several miles further and follow the never-ending dirt road until it disappeared between the hills. There was just nothing to break the wind on this open expanse of dry desert.
We continued hiking for another hour miles toward the green, juniper-covered hills to our west, and soon Clothesline and I paired up and started to get to know each other better. She was 20+ years my junior, yet we settled into a nice rhythm and soon found ourselves pulling ahead of the guys.
As Clothesline talked, her enthusiasm was palatable. The AZT was her first long trail and she was now 600+ miles in. Her only real connection to thru-hiking before this adventure was through her brother who had thru-hiked the PCT. She’d agreed to join him in Arizona just to see if long-distance hiking and backpacking was something she’d like too.
Based on what I could observe, she was definitely coming into her own out here on trail. She seemed confident and determined that she’d make it all the way to the Utah border. A tiny part of me was even glad her brother had been temporarily forced off trail – just so she discover that self-reliance without being stuck in his shadow.
Clothesline and I were so lost in conversation that we reached the juniper trees dotting Rabbit Canyon a full 10 minutes ahead of the guys. While we waited for them to catch up, the two of us we set about searching for some flat, sheltered spots to set up our tents amid the rocks and trees. Hopefully we’d be tucked in nicely here and avoid any mishaps from the wind.
It had been a brutal day, and I’d walked farther than expected given our slow morning start in the snow. It had been close to a 30-mile today! But I felt good. At this pace, I was well on track to make to to the Grand Canyon in another three days’ time. And after that, it was a race to the Utah border!!
Highlights
- Although I wasn’t strictly on the Arizona Trail when it occured, I officially passed mile 600 of my thru-hike somewhere in the snow this morning.
- It’s been a while since I’ve seen any reptiles on trail, and the fat little horned toad was an interesting addition to today’s scenery.
- Although it we were walking through some pretty arid landscape, I was pleasantly surprised at how much water we encountered today.
Challenges
- Finishing the snow on the north side of Humphreys Peak this morning was slow and tedious, but at least Volt didn’t have to dig me out of the snow today!
- The insane wind that wanted to blow me over was something else. It even made my eardrums hurt from the constant noise!