The Long Desert

Part 4 of the Arizona Trial starts back on leaving the mining town of Superior, east of Phoenix, at the base of the mighty Picketpost Mountain. I had just taken a zero with the trail angel, Mary Jo, there, she got me to Picketpost Trailhead, and a long, looming stretch of desert awaited to reach the Catalina Mountains that abut northern Tucson.

My morning ride out of MJ’s came a bit earlier than expected. I skipped out on breakfast plans when my anxiety over desert heat triumphed over my stomach. It’s a battle that can go either way, but the fatigue of schlepping a pack through a desert midday is one I’m keen to avoid if possible. I was fully loaded on food anyway. Thus, rations on the way out were sufficient. I broke the gravity of town early enough that I earned a couple hours of shade under Picketpost before that inexorable heat was on me sans pause.

That first day out was reasonably productive for an 8:30 AM start; 17 miles! I was walking through familiar territory in the Telegraph Canyon, though alas it had become something alien since I last visited in February. This hot, low lying section was brutally burnt in June just before the Summer monsoons would have put it out of danger. The desert flora and notably dense saguaro community became a blackened boneyard, with only grass and wounded cacti greeting me under an unrelenting sun. ’Twas quite a gruesome sight, and to see the area I had camped and made friends in trail work turned to skeletons and ash was embittering.

Fortunately, the nearby rainwater collector, an ingenious craft of the Arizona Trail Association, survived the blaze. It’s really something you need to walk up to thirsty to properly appreciate, as this metal container out quite far in the desert metes out clear water and halves a 20-mile distance from trailhead to water at the Gila River, waiting below a long descent through Alamo Canyon. I’d nearly make it to the Gila, but the urgency was lessened with a nice draught from that device, and its existence is a good hallmark for why donations and grants are important for the Arizona Trail Association.

Day 2 would feature a jaunt to Kearny, a waning mining town out in the “Copper Corridor”. Starting out in the canyon, I remember the odd comfort I felt the night before of cattle cowbells ringing in the dark from the local ruminants. The day would mostly feature zigs and zags adjacent to the flowing Gila, and a quick jaunt along some active train tracks to avoid some dubious hills. Maybe I had to jump off the tracks once when I felt the earth shaking, but it seemed like a worthwhile trade over a particularly vexing meander of trail.

I had a box in Kearny, the final of five I packed back in June and put in the care of good ‘ole Roger back in Phoenix. I heard rumors of kind folk who would help hikers with rides in and out, just like MJ back in Superior. So a call to Gary, pizza proprietor in town, got me in rather quickly. T-Mobile not failing me for once in the rural parts of the West was a nice feather in the cap then! Unfortunately, I neglected to realize it was Veteran’s Day, and no mail would be picked up that day, alas. On the plus side, I was reunited with Monkey, a charming lad and wayward educator out of Fairbanks, Alaska I had spent a few nights with in the Tonto wildernesses. We split a room and idled about a fairly friendly town before departing in the AM with more help from Gary the next day, who was happy enough just getting both hikers out to trail in one ride. I really do appreciate the generosity of folks like him who make town connections possible for itinerants like us.

Waiting for the package that day unfortunately meant that, again, we’d be strutting through the desert in the hot part of the day once more. Monkey has his flight already booked out so dallying isn’t at the top of his list, and me, realizing my fortune in syncing back up with someone, kept his pace, mostly gladly. This section of desert that spans some sixty miles to Oracle at the northern base of the Catalinas wasn’t too much for soaring vistas, so brute forcing it in three days felt fine; the desert was still beautiful even if traversed quickly. I was flummoxed at the good quality of the water throughout the section, all expertly engineered, clear-ish and still flowing somehow in such low elevations (indeed, the Gila River section just before Kearny was the literal trail low point!)

Monkey and I did got into Oracle on three days and up into the Catalinas, the last budgeted to enjoy some town amenities, a local pub and the cafè (vegan options at Oracle Patio, y’all!). I had a bit of bad news back home learning of my friend Marten’s passing from Leukemia back East which soured my day (I’m still as I write this honestly struggling to process the unreality of someone you know and love leaving existence). Monkey had presciently been talking about death the day before, and was a bit shook himself at seeing the lightning strike of it when I got the ill tidings. I told him no apologies were needed, and we commiserated over a few extra drinks to get our moods back up. Comically, that wound up with us inebriated and getting lost in a web of poorly mapped streets before finally finding the trail again up and out in the dark.

The Catalinas buttress Tucson to the South, and at this time I had radio’d in to my BFF Merrianne here for support and a day off with her. The invite extended to Monkey of course, but he was resolute about his deadline, and we parted ways at Summerhaven, a resort community at 8,000 ft right next to Mt. Lemmon where I took an extra long break. They’re pretty good to the hikers (and cyclists) up here, though vegan amenities as usual are lacking. I at least got some wifi, soda and popcorn (later, beers to-go), which made passing day into dark quite easy. Picker and Babushka, a Cali couple I met momentarily at MJ’s synced up with me and we spent a night along with Mountie, a cheerful Albertan I had seen way back near the Grand Canyon a month back. 

A descent down the Catalinas, and a full moon night hike to rendezvous with Merianne, and I’m back in Tucson now. Gosh does a zero goes by so quick when you’re with friends who treat ya well. I wish my replacement Therm-a-rest pad had made it here (it blew up two weeks ago). Alas, shipping is just a mess right now; they posted it a week back and nothing! Fortunately, Merrianne’s got an inflatable for me to compare and contrast my foam pad with, which honestly hasn’t been terrible, just a bit bulky and unwieldy. And I’m finally trading my zero degree bag for a twenty, so I’ll be shedding a pound of weight at the least. 

I can’t believe how this trail, which has a stark reputation for loneliness, has been so good to me with companionship on each stretch of the way. I feel like I’ve made some real friends, something I struggled with on the PCT and its foibles. I hope that the last ten days or so as I approach Mexico continue my streak of good fortune. I’m feeling optimistic and strong, I can say that much. This will be my last entry before the conclusion, with only a town stop in the small refuge of Patagonia awaiting me for civilization’s caress.