Through the Cold, Clear Woods

Part 2 of the Arizona Trail resumes at Motel Debeau in Flagstaff preparing for departure.

“Ahh Flagstaff..” I thought as I gathered my belongings together after an eventful day off. I would hit up bars, grab noodles two dinners in a row from SoSoBa during their half price noodles happy hour, fix gear, and see old friends for beers or strategy games.

There’s a real feeling of nostalgia here as I see the city’s tourist center bustling and my new, now old, friends weathered but still kicking during this lull of the pandemic. It turned out to be pretty hard here for me too, as I wrote about last year, and ultimately drove me to strike out for Tucson for an Arizona redo of sorts.

I’ve digressed; with the Sunday morning sun rising on the day of departure, I saw Zippers off for what is farewell this trip. She’s gotta book it fast to get halfway before her Telluride ski season job kicks off. We hugged it out and hopefully will meet up again in Spring as she picks up the second half. I’ll miss that morning coffee she’d make those nights camped together.

I took the extra time in town to polish up the last article and banter at my old climbing gym on my way out before clearing a half day in the forest, 10 of the 115 miles until Pine which demarcates the end of the Coconino National Forest and begins the Tonto.

This section is cold, hovering fairly flat around 7000 feet. I was still glad to have my zero bag, though its bulk may become dubious as the elevation drops. Still, being cold sleeping is a particularly miserable feeling I have the power to completely avoid and probably for simplicity’s sake will do so. I’ve fit, barely, my provisions for six days, so it’s all fine.

Through the flat forest I plodded, building campfires each night to keep up morale though I was solitary. I passed a couple slower hikers still close to town, before setting up tent for a surprise overnight squall that left me battered as the clay ground moistened and my tent stakes unmoored in freezing rain. It’s tough times camping in that kind of deal, but the sleeping bag stayed warm despite my dampness and the ice cold morning after eventually dried me out.

After one more day in the forest, I’d find Marmot to team up with for the section’s second half; he’s yet another Pacific Crest exile who started the same day as myself. Marmot’s a Bay Area techie originally out of Tucson, so we have had a quick friendship over this lot of mutual overlap, and it’s great to not camp alone. It’s been a good coda to the struggles I faced with solitude and wildfire stress in Summer.

With a breezy night on the Mogollon rRm, we rejoiced at finding clear, flowing water as upgrades to the mud pits that we made due with. Not to mention the prospect of showers, laundry and beer as long-desired amenities that awaited with one more day’s hike down the rim, where the biome would quickly shift into a red rocks kind of desert-forest hybrid with rising temperatures accordingly. Truly verdant strands near the temporarily abundant water from the cliffs above inspired us.

Now in Pine, after a rest at a bustling ‘DIY’ hostel (with 8 hikers last night, including me!), I prepare today to continue the journey, catch up to Marmot at the Verde River, and finish this trail at November’s end. 120 miles a week will do it! I look forward to that conclusion regularly now, as five months is generally when I really start to gnaw at getting my routine back. But I can’t ever go on enough about the joy of exerting my body to its maximum daily, and the freedom and beauty of just being out in the wilds. At least, I can communicate it here as I rise and fall to the challenge, step by step.