An Arctic Arrival

My one month mid-adventure exodus resumed a couple weeks back at Page, Arizona in the evening time. I got deposited there with an hour of daylight left and alas, could not find a ride in the evening time out into the oblivion that the trail starts at. Thus, I slept in the desert roadside (behind a rock), got predawn Dennys (actually not abysmal for vegans) & with an hour or so of morning light, got my first of two rides from a friendly duo of Utahns on their way home.

They got me to the 10 mile dirt road that leads to Stateline Campground, the Northern terminus of the Arizona Trail against the Utah border. A camper with a couple from upstate New Yorker took pity on me on my way shortly thereafter and I was spared anything too grueling of a walk, getting to start the trail with half a day left.

I remember not feeling anything too special walking up to that pillar in the middle of nowhere that marks this journey’s true onset. Numb to all this adventure? A bit, perhaps.

“I’m just out here again doing my thing” was more or less my mind that minute.

The AZT is like a homecoming for me, with it being the first National Scenic Trail I have extensive experience with. I knew not to underestimate it with my familiarity from trail work on it, in terms of water scarcity and remoteness. So far, writing from Flagstaff, its been a breeze save for the nightly freeze.

That inclement weather would strike me immediately; a winter storm, long forecast for the area and nervously watched by me daily, was sweeping through the Kaibab Plateau, with 90% odds of depositing inches of snow. I figured my layers, 0 degree bag and tent would cover my ass; delaying further was not of interest either. Thus, after a decently hot day slogging up in elevation (all the better weather for me to get dumped on, the Kaibab ranges up to 9k elevation), I woke up my first morning on trail to a solid three to six inches of snow and a sagging, but still upright tent.

I pondered taking an in-tent zero to let the weather pass and start to melt, but my urge to move demanded I face the cold, damp day and so I did. My fingers were pretty numb by the time I stuffed and shouldered my kit, but a fun snow day awaited! Or so I thought, with cutting winds, an entirely sunless atmosphere, foot high snowdrifts and frequently concealed trail making the day one of the most exhausting in memory. People frequently criticize this part of trail as a bit boring with endless scrub and pine sans views, but I had plenty of action to go on.

I made camp that evening at Orderville Trailhead near Highway 89A, the last junction to civilization for a while. I thought about and tried a hitch to Jacob Lake in the snowy evening but was unsuccessful and opted just to throw down a tent again on the least icy speck of flat earth. I prevailed in staying dry enough, though my shoes & socks were damp from plowing through 13 miles of snow.

The next morning, I was initially excited to continue on. Then, I discovered that my socks and shoes from yesterday had frozen solid in the teen lows. The unpleasantness of shoving sneakers into my sleeping bag next to my core will be palpably remembered for a long while.

Anyway, as I started breaking down my stuff, with fresh socks in thawed shoes, I realized my toes were losing sensation in their dank, wintery prison. I lamented, then relented on the idea of progress that day and got back to the road with my tent left standing for an early rest day at Jacob Lake a few miles out. Walking along the sunny roadside with my thumb out, I scored a ride this time.

Warming up there was the right pick, though the costs would be the loss of services on the Grand Canyon North Rim that would close a day before I arrived. Whatever, the South Rim is where the party is at anyway! I did my homework while lounging about though, securing permitted camping at Bright Angel at the Canyon’s bottom. I also met a new ally, “Zippers”, who had been following my snow tracks. I initially befriended her with the offer to join my campsite three days forward. She sought out a cabin to warm up, so I bid her adieu with promises to meet on the way or at the Canyon. I hitched back to the trailhead in the bed of a pickup, a blast literally in terms of ‘fun’ and arctic air.

Well, the NEXT morning wasn’t much different in terms of cold feet. This time, my determination to press on was stymied by “Nine Lives” who car camped next to me, was idling about and offered to do a quick coffee run at Jacob Lake again that I was all too happy to engage. I gave “Zippers” the heads up for a ride back that she was happy to accept and we set out from there together.

It was quite nice having a companion for the frozen north. Z does seasonal outdoors work, is an ultra runner from the Austin area and we walk about the same pace. There’s not many folks out here (but apparently it’s a record season with all the PCT exiles). We met a couple Alaskans who couldn’t pull twenty mile days in the snow and mud who fell behind, as well as speedier hikers, notably “Muggle”.

Muggle joined us south of the Grand Canyon as the temperatures started to warm. He professed his happiness at finding some people to hang out with and his intention to try and keep a more regular pace “and enjoy it all” rather than do the turbo all day every day. He proceeded to then turbo out the one morning we all camped together regardless, and I’m left wondering if he’s just someone trapped in a prison of his own making.

What’s the water situation, you ask? So far, quite easy, with abundant caches. In between those, there have been concrete or aluminum rainwater collectors with satisfactory water. Fortunately, I have yet to draw from any of the muddy pits or “tanks” that are a common earthen source. I’m carrying seven liters capacity to minimize needing those but my filter is ready to be put to the test.

South of the Rim featured the fading of the Kaibab National Forest into open cattle lands into the familiar Coconino NF. The land is pocked with volcanic rocks and a good deal of dirt road walking, notably a good twenty miles worth mooing at four-legged friends. Campfires were an oh so welcome staple after the dismal state of the Pacific Crest Trail.

Those warming temps and open skies leading back to Flagstaff left me in high spirits and nostalgia that only deepened as I tread the trails that were once my backyard. I wound up at Motel DeBeau for a few nights in the downtown where I was once dropped off in 2018 to begin my first Arizona adventure. I can’t wait to see where this one leads.