Day 3: My Kingdom For a Drop of Water!

The day started off well enough. Cold, but no worse than I expected. My biggest concern upon waking was my camera which had stopped working overnight. I hoped as the temperature warmed up, it would start working again and--I'm happy to report--that's exactly what happened.

The Arizona Trail climbed up an down a series of small but exhausting mountains. As the morning progressed, it grew uncomfortably warm, but it was the loose rocks and steep terrain that contributed most to my feelings of exhaustion. It's tough climbing up trails when rocks constantly slide out from under your feet, and it's positively dangerous going down such trails with the risk of sprained ankles.

After several hours of tough hiking, the trail took a breather and dumped me out on a small, gravel road which I found a lot easier to walk on. Three mountain bikers swept past me at a high rate of speed--the first bicyclists I saw on the trail.

And late in the morning, I reached Pauline Canyon. My notes showed a dirt stock tank where I could fill up with water, even if the water was usually muddy--but a cursory glance around didn't show any water and I pushed onward. There was another chance of finding water 0.9 miles ahead at Middle Canyon anyhow.

Between the two, however, was a herd of cattle. Large beasts, many of which had some mean-looking horns on them. I saw a couple of calves too, and some of the larger beasts eyed me wearily. I figured it would be safe to give them a wide berth and went off trail to go around them. I picked up a trail leading away from them on the other side, but only followed it for about five minutes before I sensed something was wrong. The trail didn't feel right. It was too overgrown and small, and I wondered if this was the Arizona Trail at all. Maybe it was just a game trail that the cattle created by walking along so often.

So I backtracked back to the cattle, then continued looping around them counter-clockwise until I found another path--a gravel road--headed down the other side of the hilltop which I figured must be the real trail.

I made it the rest of the way to Middle Canyon without any trouble, but that's where my real problems started--the canyon was completely and totally dry. No water.

The next water source, according to my information, was located 7.5 miles ahead. Assuming, of course, that water source wasn't dry as well. But I only had about 1.5 liters of water left, and it had grown quite hot out. I could have downed the entire liter right then and there--it certainly wasn't sufficient to hike another 7.5 miles.

So I did the sensible thing--I decided to hike back to Pauline Canyon and look for that stock tank. There were worse fates than having to backtrack 0.9 miles, and getting around that herd of cattle was one of them!

It took me the better part of a half hour to retrace my steps back and I made a more thorough search for the stock tank. The water report I had printed had said someone had used it less than 2 weeks earlier--I knew there was water around there somewhere, but it wasn't readily obvious. I figured it had to be right alongside the trail since my notes said nothing about having to hike off trail for the water.

Every trail has its particularly quirks, and the whole concept of stock tanks was new to me. What, exactly, was I looking for anyhow? It was described in my notes as a "dirt stock tank," but how large and obvious would that be? There was a campsite near there, by a dry riverbed, and I figured that surely the campsite was situated near the water, but all I found was another cow and I asked her where the water was. I knew she was holding out on me, but I couldn't make her talk.

I finally sat down and studied my topo maps carefully, looking for the slightest hint of where the water might be. Anything to the slope of the land that might suggest which side of the trail the stock tank was located, or maybe a bit off trail and out of view, but I couldn't glean any hints from it and I grew increasingly agitated. I needed water, and in a bad way.

And since I had backtracked to look for this water, I was now 8.4 miles from the next possible water source ahead. Assuming I could even find it! The previous water source at Parker Canyon was  7.1 miles away. That was guaranteed water--I got water from there before and knew it wouldn't have dried up in less than a day. There was also Trap Tank behind me. It was located 0.1 miles off trail and I hadn't even tried looking for it since I had just filled up with water at Parker Canyon, but there was a possibility that I could find water there 5.8 miles behind me.

None of those options seemed very good for someone with barely 1 liter of water on an increasingly hot day over rugged terrain. The water ahead was marginally further away than the water behind me, but the water behind me was guaranteed to be there and I knew I could find. I'd really be in trouble if I went forward then couldn't find that water either. But at least I'd be moving forward!

I stopped for an early lunch break to think about my situation. I sat down in the shade of a tree for about a half hour, wishing another hiker or biker came along to help me out. Maybe they knew where the stock tank was hiding or could point me in the right direction. But nobody came along. I was alone.

Finally, I decided to go back. The idea of backtracking was agony, but you always read about those stories of people who keep going forward not because it was the smart thing to do, but because they couldn't face backtracking. It happens so often while climbing mountain tops they even have a term for it: Summit Fever. Then they end up dead or with amputated limbs and other horrible stuff. Just because they couldn't convince themselves to turn back with the turning was good. I didn't want that to happen to me. I didn't want to be a column in a newspaper titled: Hiker that wouldn't turn back, found dead from dehydration.

So as much as I hated it, I decided the smart thing to do was the safe thing to do, and the safe thing to do was to turn back. The known water was closer in that direction, and a possible unfamiliar water source might be even closer.

If I had to hike back all the way to Parker Canyon, I'd have backtracked 8.0 miles. That was my worse-case scenario. If I could find water at Trap Tank, I'll still have backtracked 6.7 miles. Ironically, had I not backtracked to Pauline Canyon already, the closer water would be ahead of me rather than behind me and my decision would have likely been the opposite. I had backtracked only 0.9 miles, but that was enough to swing my decision.

I picked up my pack and started hiking south on the trail, grumbling the entire way. I'd be losing nearly an entire day of hiking with this setback, but food wasn't a problem--I always liked to carry an extra day of food just in case. I still had plenty of food.

A couple of hours later, I was down to less than half a liter of water when I saw two hikers standing on the trail. Hikers! But as I got closer to them, I could hear the chatter of radios. Not the musical radio variety, but the kind people talk to each other with. And as I got even closer, I noticed they were both wearing guns that were prominently displayed. These weren't hikers, but I wasn't entirely sure what they were. Border patrol, perhaps? If so, they didn't have any markings that identified them as such. No jackets with Border Patrol written across the back or badges that were visible.

I talked to them for a few minutes and told them about my thru-hiking the Arizona Trail--even if I was currently headed in the wrong direction because of water. They told me that Pauline Canyon should have had water, and I told them I couldn't find it. They suggested maybe knocking on doors in some houses nearby, but I didn't know about any houses nearby. I never saw any houses, and my maps didn't show any civilization anywhere near the trail. But not to worry, I knew there was water at Parker Canyon, and I might be thirsty when I got there, but I'd definitely make it there.

The one guy offered to give me some of his water which I was more than happy to accept, so I scored an extra half-liter of water from him. And it was cold too! That water was awesome!

Then I continued onwards leaving the two suspected border patrol agents behind. They never did identify themselves so I can only guess what they were doing out there with radios and guns.

An hour later, I was coming down a ridge when I saw a large body of water in the distance. It looked muddy, but undoubtedly it was Trap Tank. YES! I didn't see it while hiking northbound since it would have been behind me from this viewpoint, but it was plain as day while hiking southbound and I could be absolutely certain of where the stock tank was located off the trail. I was worried that even if Trap Tank had water, I might not be able to find it since it was located 0.1 miles off trail and I didn't remember seeing any trail junction that might have led off to it. Now I could see it and not only knew that there was water in, but I knew exactly where to find it!

The relief swept over me like a wave, and I drank a little more of my dwindling water to celebrate. There would be more where that came from!

Plumes of smoke from the Brown Fire were still clearly visible
from parts of the trail looking backwards.

There was no defined trail that split off to the stock tank. In fact, I doubt few people ever stop there since it's both off trail and so close to Parker Canyon and almost everybody just gets water from the canyon. It's better water anyhow. But for me, the stock tank was closer and I followed a faint game path off trail and towards the water.

Even though I knew where the water was, it was still remarkably hard to see until I was right on top of it. Had I not seen the water before from the top of the ridge, I'm not sure I would have found it. But I did find it, and my backtracking was over.

I threw myself down into the shady trees in an old, unused corral nearby to rest and to eat lunch. The water in the stock tank was muddy--very muddy, and for the first time on this hike, I figured it should be treated. I normally don't treat my water, but anything this muddy and stagnant that cattle drink from.... I'd make an exception for. I knew there were a lot of unsavory water sources along the Arizona Trail and came prepared with a Sawyer filter. It took over an hour to filter enough water to carry me 14.2 miles to the next likely water source or 17.7 miles to the next "guaranteed" water source. That's a lot water for a hot day like this!

While eating lunch, a brilliant idea hit me: I should stop hiking for the day. I was hot, tired and more than a little cranky having spent half of the day backtracking a section of trail I'd already hiked, and now I'd have to do this next section for a third time! I wasn't looking forward to it, but maybe it would be more pleasant to do at night. It would be cooler, and I might see some nocturnal creatures that I otherwise wouldn't see. I like night-hiking anyhow but usually can't do it because I needed to take photos for every single mile of the trail for Walking 4 Fun, but that wasn't an issue now because I already had the photos! I could totally hike this section of trail a third time in the dark!

The thought lifted my spirits a bit. I still wasn't happy about backtracking, but at least I could make the most of it and get a night hike out of the deal.

So I waited until dusk, then cooked dinner at the stock tank. Better to cook there and use as much water as I could possibly want than to carry the water for hours before using it to cook dinner!

And a little after sunset, I restarted my hike. The moon was only a day past full so it provided most of the light I needed.

Hiking at night can be creepy in one sense.... you'll see eyes watching you. Just the eyes, glinting in the moonlight or headlamp. The rest of the animal will be hidden in the shadows, but their eyes light up like nightlights. You see them watching you, and you can't even identify the animal that's looking at you. I found it exhilarating, though!

I kept seeing what looked like glitter flashing on the trail. They weren't eyes, but something among the bushes and plants kept sparkling in the night. Finally, I approached close to see exactly what it was I was seeing and figured out they were spiders. Something on the spider sparkled in the moonlight, and it felt good to solve that mystery. Then whenever I'd see that glitter, I'd shake my finger at it and tell it, "I know you're out there, little spider. You can't hide from me!"

The one-eyed animals that watched me invariably turned out to be birds. They had their heads kinked so only one eye was pointed towards me--at least until I got closer then they'd fly up and away. Even small birds, I noticed, had absolutely enormous-looking eyes. I couldn't identify the birds in the darkness, though--just that they were birds, and only because they would fly away whenever I neared them.

Even though it was now dark, I still sweat profusely. The heat of the day was still there. Maybe not as intense, but it was still considerably warmer than I expected for night. Especially since the last couple of nights had been cold enough to freeze water. I didn't exactly enjoy hiking this section of trail a third time, but it would have been far worse to do it in daylight for a third time.

I set up camp at Pauline Canyon, 0.9 miles short of where I turned back earlier in the afternoon. I remembered that herd of cattle just ahead and didn't want to try sneaking around them in the dark, and I knew there was a beautiful campsite right there at the canyon. Plus, it was getting late, I was getting tired, and the heat of the day was finally dissipating and I started shivering. I set up camp, changed clothes, and dived into my sleeping back--finally calling it a day at around 11:00 in the evening.

Can you guess what this is? I thought maybe it was a tank to hold water, but
no, when I got closer, I read the plaque on the end of it....

It's an aircraft engine shipping container! Which begs the question....
How the heck did this get out here, but I'd have never guessed
an aircraft engine shipping container. Not in a million years....

I couldn't figure out what this was. A concrete block with a metal (and sealed) shaft
coming out of it?

Holy cow! Look at the horns on that thing! Let's not get too close to that....

Walking back to Trap Tank I didn't take many photos--I didn't need them since
I took all of the photos I needed for Walking 4 Fun the first time I hiked the section!
But walking back on the trail gave me a lot of views of the Brown Fire,
and I managed to catch this photo of fire retardant being dropped on the fire.
You can't see the plane that dropped it (too small!), but the fuzzy patch of
red on the right is fire retardant being dropped. By the time my camera
turned on and I snapped the photo, most of it had already fallen to the ground. It
was visually much more impressive about 5 seconds before this photo was taken!

Water! Water at Trap Tank, thank goodness! Even it if is pretty darned muddy.

Frog at Trap Tank.

Day 2: Fire on the Trail!

The first sunrise on the trail!

April 14: I had no illegal aliens intruding on my camp on the during the night, and as the sky brightened, I woke up and started preparing breakfast. My first surprise was that a small bit of ice had formed in my water bottle. I knew it was nippy overnight, but it hadn't felt cold enough to freeze water.

My second surprise was more of a puzzle... while eating breakfast, I sniffed the scent of a campfire. As far as I knew, nobody was camped anywhere near me--I wasn't even at a campsite. The last campsite I saw was so far back, it seemed unlikely I'd smell a campfire from there. Anyhow, there was nobody there when I passed by late yesterday afternoon. And I had that nagging feeling... maybe a wildfire was burning nearby. The scent was faint and didn't last long. I could smell it for only a minute or so before it drifted away.

I cleaned up my dishes, brushed my teeth, changed back into my hiking clothes and continued my march to Utah. The wind had died down during the night, but the trail continued to climb relentlessly higher and higher into the Miller Peak Wilderness.

Which is when I noticed it--a small, low-flying plane that passed overhead. It seemed like a strange place to find a plane. It wasn't on the way to anywhere. During the next hour, it passed by a couple of more times. At least it looked like the same plane, and it seemed strange for a plane to just be circling around overhead and my gnawing suspicions of a forest fire continued to grow. Throughout the morning, I'd continue getting the occasional whiff of what smelled like a campfire.

I needed water--I hadn't passed any water on the trail so far and by now was beginning to run low. I wasn't terribly concerned about water, though--according to my data sheet, Bathtub Spring shouldn't be far ahead. As I neared its expected location, I saw three backpackers on a trail on the other side of a dry creekbed. They waved out to me and we yelled across to each other. The Arizona Trail snaked up the left side of the canyon while the trail they followed went down the right side, and I assumed the AZT made a U-turn up ahead across the dry creek. But it was weird... why didn't the trail just go down right here then back up? It wasn't exactly a huge obstacle.

But I followed the trail and figured I'd catch up with the three other backpackers soon enough to get their story. Were they section hiking the trail? Were any of them thru-hikers? I didn't know, but I really wanted to find out!

Then the trail made the U-turn I expected, right at Bathtub Spring. Well, at least one of my questions was answered--why the trail went all the way out here before U-turning back around. It also answered a question I hadn't thought to ask--why the spring was called Bathtub Spring. Because somebody had hauled a full-sized, cast-iron bathtub up here to catch the water from the spring! I could actually take a bath!

But I wasn't going to take a bath. First, the water was cold. Second, that's drinking water. Not just for other hikers, but for animals as well. I wasn't going to dirty it up with soap. I stopped to rest and fill up with water knowing those other hikers were getting further ahead with each passing minute, but I had all day to catch up with them again. And I, by myself, could probably catch a group of 3 people hiking together.

With my bottles now bulging with water, I hefted my pack back on and continued the hike. I didn't walk for more than 2 minutes before I realized that I'd never catch up with the 3 backpackers ahead of me. I had little doubt that I could catch up with them, but the Arizona Trail veered off to the left while another unknown trail continued forward in the direction of the other hikers. I veered off to the left. I never did get their stories, but I now realized that they weren't even on the Arizona Trail when I saw them. And I certainly wasn't going to chase them down the trail if they weren't on the Arizona Trail!

As I pushed on throughout the morning, the occasional whiffs of campfire grew stronger and became a constant smell permeating the air, and I noticed a couple of other aircraft circling overhead. It occurred to me that this remote area near the Mexican border currently had some of the busiest airspace in the state right now.

The climb up the trail was steep and relentless as
this series of switchbacks show!

Then I reached Bear Saddle where, for the first time, I saw a clearly defined column of smoke rising into the air. A lot of smoke. Either from the world's largest campfire, or--more likely--a forest fire. And it didn't appear to be very far away. Probably not more than a few miles away. I could only continue onwards, though, hoping the wildfire wasn't on the trail.

At another viewpoint, I could see the column of billowing smoke even better. It looked like it was coming from just behind a ridge that couldn't have been more than a mile away and I saw a streak of red cut through the air just above it--one of the planes had just dropped a load of fire retardant on the fire. It's really quite a sight to see it when they drop fire retardant on a fire! But I was more than a little disturbed that it appeared to be happening maybe a mile away from my current location. Fortunately, the fire appeared to be north of my location while the trail was heading largely to the west. I hoped the trail would skirt around it.

Not even a half hour later, I was climbing up a ridgeline and just as it crested, I found four firefighters standing on the trail. Oh, crap....

I dropped my backpack--I knew I'd be here for at least a few minutes. I looked up at them and told them, honestly, that I was really not happy to see them--firefighters on the trail I'm hiking is never a good sign!

"Does this mean the fire is on the Arizona Trail up ahead?" I asked them. "I don't really have a Plan B for getting around it...."

They told me that they weren't actually sure where the fire was located. I didn't say it out loud, but I thought, "But you're firefighters! How can you not know where the fire is?!" They also weren't familiar with the Arizona Trail or where it was in relation to the fire, but they kindly used their radios to call in to someone who would know.

"We have a hiker here doing the Arizona Trail," one of them said into the radio. "Is it safe for him to go on?"

A voice from the radio immediately answered, "Yes, the Arizona Trail is clear." Relief swept through me. "Or you can put him to work."

You can't really see it well, but there's a lot of civilization in the
flat areas behind that ridge. That's the town of Sierra Vista.

The four firefighters laughed at that--I did too. "Sorry, but I can't help," I told them. I pointed to my head--"No hard hat!"

But I did thank them for letting me know the trail was clear of fire--for now, at least, and chatted with them for a few minutes, getting my photo with three of them (the fourth one was taking the photo), and finally picked up my pack to continue onwards.

The trail finally peaked near Sunnyside Canyon, which pretty much marked the closest point I'd get to what I would later learn was called the Brown Fire. The rest of the day, the trail went downhill and away from the fire.

The smoke from the fire was blowing away from me now so I couldn't smell it anymore, but the aircraft fighting the fire circled overhead even more fiercely than before.

Late in the day, I made it out of the mountains and into a flat, dry area largely devoid of trees and a helicopter or two kept flying almost directly over me. I'm not exactly sure how many helicopters there were--maybe it was just 1, but maybe it was 2 (or 3?) that all looked the same. The airplane(s) with fire retardant didn't fly out over me here, but the helicopter(s) did, and I thought I knew why.

Shortly ahead was Parker Canyon Lake, and I saw a giant hose dangling out of the bottom of the helicopter. I was all but certain they were loading up with water from the lake to fight the fire.

My theory was confirmed less than an hour later when I neared Parker Canyon Lake and saw one of the helicopters hovering over the water and doing exactly what I thought it would do. It was quite a visual spectacle! If you ever get a chance to watch a helicopter hovering over water, check it out as it churns up the water below it!

Then the helicopter took off and flew back in the direction of the fire to the east.

Bathtub Spring--no mystery how this spring got its name!

I stopped for dinner at Parker Canyon--it had a small creek running through it with clear water and would be the last water for several miles. I didn't camp at the creek, though--it was in Parker Canyon, after all, and I wanted an unobstructed view of the night sky. I continued about a mile past the creek and eventually set up camp in a dry creekbed. This too was a canyon, but it was a much wider one with fewer trees and other brush to obstruct the views.

I've always liked camping under the stars. Waking up in the middle of the night, opening my eyes, and seeing the Milky Way splashed across the sky. Or seeing a grain of sand hurtling through the atmosphere in a blaze of glory. Mars was near opposition making it particularly bright--the brightest it's been for about 2 years now, a ruby red glow. But tonight was going to be more special than most nights because tonight there was going to be a total lunar eclipse. Total. Lunar. Eclipse. Those don't happen all that often, and I was lucky enough to be located right in the middle of where it would be visible. I wanted to wake up in the middle of the night, open my eyes, and see a moon that's been totally eclipsed by the earth's shadow.

So that's what I did, and that's exactly what happened. I tried taking a few photos with my camera which required the use of a small tripod I carried (the exposure time was over a second--I definitely needed a tripod for steady photos!), but it was hard to manipulate because my fingers were so cold. The night before seemed chilly, but tonight really did feel like freezing temperatures and my fingers were positively numb. I got a few photos, then my camera stopped working.

I wasn't sure if it was actually broken or if the intense cold was a contributing factor (do batteries work in extremely cold weather?), but there wasn't much I could do about that. I put my camera away. In the morning, when the sun came out and started warming things up again, I'd check out the camera again.

For the rest of the night, though, I just laid on my back, toasty and warm in my sleeping bag, as the blood red moon crossed the sky before I drifted back to sleep again.

Those aren't clouds in the sky--it's smoke drifting up into the air from
the canyon just behind these trees.

The Miller Peak Wilderness is in what's called a "Sky Island"--tall mountains that
exceed 9,000 feet above sea level and therefore are cool enough to support
thick forests. Arizona isn't all desert!

Lots of deer on the trail!

More plumes of smoke rising into the sky! It's getting closer!

One of the planes that are part of the firefighting efforts.

One of these people is not not like the rest. Can you figure out which one? =)

Another one of the planes circling the Brown Fire.

I really like the alligator scales on this bark. (I think it's an alligator juniper tree.)

This kind of looks like a well that wasn't drilled deep enough....
Don't fall in!

Cattle trough!

What the heck are those bugs in the water, though?!

This windmill used to pump water into the tank, but it's dry now
and no water is available here.

Lots of cattle in this area, and they want you to keep the gates
closed so they stay where they're supposed to be.

Thank goodness that's settled....

I like the footbridge. I was really dreading getting my feet wet!

Ant hill

Here the fire is well behind us, but we can clearly see all of the smoke
it's creating!

This helicopter flew right over me, probably no more than 100 feet above ground.

A helicopter flying towards Parker Canyon Lake.

It's really cool watching a helicopter suck up water from a lake!

Cooking dinner in Parker Canyon.

A total lunar eclipse! The "star" to the right is actually Mars not far
from opposition (when it's brighter than at any other time). My camera
couldn't pick up any of the actual stars in this field of view.

Day 1: The Arizona Trail

One last lunch in civilization at Jimmy's Hot Dogs on the edge of Bisbee, AZ.

April 13: This blog has a bit of a time delay--which is why you're seeing the date this actually happened at the beginning of the blog post. In this case, my adventures on the Arizona Trail started late in the afternoon on April 13th.

I'll set up the blog to post new posts every Monday, Wednesday and Friday morning. Look for the next post in two days, Wednesday morning! It'll be an exciting post, let me tell you. *nodding*

For those of you not familiar with the Arizona Trail, it's an 800-mile footpath winding through the entire north-south distance of Arizona from the Mexican border to the Utah border. It's not a particularly well-known trail, especially compared to it's more famous counterparts like the Appalachian Trail or Pacific Crest Trail, but I've wanted to do this trail for years! The desert has its own stark beauty, especially when the cactus are blooming. It doesn't hurt that this particular trail runs right through the Grand Canyon either.

It's quite a diverse trail as well--there's a lot more to Arizona than deserts. The trail meanders through grasslands and thick forests, several areas peak at over 9,000 feet above sea level and at this time of year, snow is a very real possibility. In fact, a thru-hike in the dead of winter is all but impossible because of the heavy snow at the higher elevations. Obviously, it's not a summer hike either--the summer heat is brutal! This is a trail best hiked in the spring or fall. The low point for the trail drops to about 1,650 feet by the Gila River--there, snow isn't a great concern, but 100 degree temperatures certainly could be!

And... the trail is essentially complete. That's a big plus for me because, as a general rule of thumb, I hate road walks, and you won't find a lot of them on this trail. At least not on the busy, heavily used roads that hikers loathe.

I pose with my pack at Montezuma Pass. That's Mexico far
in the distance! Note the lack of facial hair. That morning
would be my last shave for quite some time....

Not to mention the chances of seeing a gila monster, I figured, were probably pretty good. I really wanted to see a gila monster. In the wild. And the Arizona Trail runs right through gila monster country.

My start date was delayed a couple of weeks due to having to move all of my websites to a new datacenter. (None of you think that's an April Fools joke anymore, do you? Ha!) I had been hoping to start in late March when I'd likely miss more of the hot weather (although perhaps have to deal with more snow), but my late start date meant I'd likely be among the last of the thru-hikers on the Arizona Trail this season.

But I finally made it out to the small town of Sierra Vista, the gateway city to the beginning of the Arizona Trail at the Mexican border in the Coronado Memorial. Lucky for me, I even had a contact in Sierra Vista--my sister Tierra. I think she moved to Sierra Vista explicitly so she could drive me to the beginning of the Arizona Trail. =)

So I flew out to Tuscon--the nearest commercial airport--where she picked me up the previous day and drove us out to Sierra Vista for the night.

Which is where I woke up this morning. I had a few tasks to do before the hike actually started. Like buying groceries. I needed fuel for the trail, so Tierra drove me to Frys (that's a grocery store here, not an electronics store!). We dropped by the post office, which was closed. No surprise there--it was Sunday, after all, but I had hoped they had one of those self-service kiosks and I could mail ahead some food to the next trail town which didn't have a full-sized grocery store. They had the kiosk, but all of the priority mail boxes were locked away. Eventually, I had to leave the food behind and ask Tierra to mail it for me the next day.

The monument marking the US-Mexican border and
the start of the Arizona Trail. That barbed-wire
fence behind it.... that's the US. I'm actually on the
Mexican side when I took this photo.

I did a few last minute fixes to Atlas Quest, then we drove out to Bisbee for a last meal in civilization at Jimmys Hot Dogs not far from the trail start. And she assured me that the food was well worth the stop. I ordered the Italiano grinder and Coke, and it was delicious. I used the toilets there--the last running water I'd be using for several days, then we packed into the car and headed towards the trail.

On the drive to the Coronado National Memorial, we noticed what looked like a large cloud hovering over the mountains in the distance. It seemed very out of place on this otherwise clear day. Just that solitary and suspicious-looking cloud. Could it be part of a forest fire? Could it be on the Arizona Trail? It appeared to be in that general direction....

So on the way into the Coronado Memorial, we stopped at the ranger station where I asked about the conditions on the Arizona Trail and if there was a fire on the trail. The woman manning the booth (womaning the booth?) said that she didn't know anything about a fire and that the trail was clear. At least as far as she knew. =) Whew. A false alarm.

The ranger did warn me about bears which took me a little by surprise. I didn't realize that bears inhabited this part of Arizona, but I wasn't too concerned by the revelation. I had a hunch that I wouldn't be seeing any bears. She also suggested that I stay away from the Joe's Canyon Trail due to an "incident" with illegal aliens earlier in the afternoon.

The Arizona Trail starts right at the Mexican border, but there aren't any roads or trailheads there. The closest trailhead is 1.8 miles to the north, and Joe's Canyon Trail is another trailhead option that was even further away. It was already late in the afternoon, around 4:00, and I didn't have time to start from the trailhead further away. Nope, I planned to start at Montezuma Pass, hike the 1.8 miles to the border, turn around, and hike 1.8 miles back to where I started then onward to Utah.

Tierra dropped me off at Montezuma Pass, and I picked up my much-too-heavy pack and started hiking southbound.

Mexico!

It only took me about a half hour to reach the border which was marked with a simple barbed-wire fence and a monument. The monument was on the wrong side of the barbed-wire fence, but there was a large hole in the fence so I set my pack down and simply ducked through it. Into Mexico. I wondered what would happen if border patrol agents found me. I was pretty sure that barbed-wire fence wasn't meant to be crossed, but I wanted photos of the monument. And I wanted to at least touch official Mexican ground. I suspect the monument is on the border, but the fence was fully on the American side of the border.

I walked completely around the monument taking photos, noticing that the Mexican side was in Spanish while the American side was in English. Appropriate enough, I suppose. It also looked like a small game trail lead deeper into Mexico. I had no intention of following that, but I wondered if it was a game trail or a trail created by illegal aliens. For now, at least, I was by myself at the border. No sign of anybody anywhere.

I took more photos than necessary, re-entered America, put on my pack, and started hiking to Utah a mere 800 miles away.

I returned to Montezuma Pass then climbed a steep mountain upwards. I needed to get at least several miles north because camping wasn't allowed in the Coronado Memorial, but as soon as I crested over a ridgetop the wind practically blew me off the top. Incredibly windy!

If Arizona is known for anything besides deserts, it's mining, and in those next few miles, I passed three different abandoned mine shafts. The entrances were blocked off to prevent people from entering them anymore, but I still found them interesting and wondered what might be found in them.

I reached what looked like an informal campsite, but ultimately decided it was too windy and continued onward. The next campsite that I could see on my maps was at Bathtub Spring, but I knew I'd never reach that point before dark. It was just too far away and I started the hike too late in the day. I'd just have to camp anywhere I could find that provided at least some protection from the wind.

The trail continued its steady climb upwards which seemed to do nothing but make the wind even stronger, but then the trail ducked a short ways to the right and just below the ridgetop which stopped the wind dead. This little pocket of trail was deathly calm. The only problem... there was nowhere on the side of the trail to set up camp. I pushed onwards but only made it about 300 feet before the wind found a way around the ridgetop and blew me over.

I quickly backtracked and found a flat-ish spot in the trail and decided just to camp directly on the trail. It was late in the evening and I doubted any other hikers would be passing by. The authorities warn hikers to camp away from the trail (illegal aliens often use the trails at night), but I hoped any illegals that stumbled into my campsite would just leave me alone.

I camped near 8,000 feet above sea level and as soon as the sun set, the temperature dropped dramatically. I bundled up into my fleece for the night. I had only completed about 5 miles for the day--not including the 1.8 miles hiking to the border before turning around and hiking north. It wasn't as much as I had hoped for, but it was official. My hike had begun!

This sign at Montezuma Pass warns to "not travel alone in remote areas."
Yeah, I'm going to have to ignore that suggestion....

Apparently there's only a barbed-wire fence at the border because they couldn't
build a sturdier wall due to environmental reasons in the Coronado Memorial, but
outside of the national memorial there is a much bigger and more impressive
fence. And from here, you can see it as a black line running straight through
the low desert. So everything behind that line is Mexico.

The Arizona Trail doesn't give you a breather. Right from the very beginning,
it goes up and up, eventually peaking at over 9,000 feet above sea level.

Moonrise!

Abandoned mine shaft #1. I put my trekking pole next to it so you could
get a sense of its size. It wasn't very large--I'd have to duck to get in.
(If I could get in, which obviously I can't because of the fence in front of it.)

Mine shaft #2

Dusk over the Coronado National Memorial.

Another moonrise photo.

Camping on the Arizona Trail where it's protected from the wind.
Just hope no illegal aliens trip over me during the night!