Backpacking is hard on the body.  

We woke up and got moving before Katya, bidding her a goodbye and promise to meetup in Pine in a few days.  We hiked up from the valley through a juniper-pinion pine forest.  The trail became rocky shardy again filled with stone chunks.  The hue of the land began to change, began to become more iron-based red.  The junipers fell away as the Arizona Trail zig-zagged across multiple rolling hills.  The Mogollon Wall was incredibly visible in the distance.  That wall that separated us from the high country.  On a descending ridge, Janna managed to get just enough reception to call ahead to reserve us a cabin in Pine.  We mutually agreed we wanted to take a 0 in Pine.  Lodging with a hot shower was strongly desired.  With that sliver of bars, she was able to confirm us their last cabin in town.

​The night was cold, long, and it felt like we were so far away from humanity.  For some reason, it reminded me of sleeping in the Paria Canyon.  You stare up into deep stars, the night sky a sliver between rock walls.  Nighthawk calls continued until the touch of dawn.

​Both of us were anxious to get moving this morning because we needed to meet Kristin who was bringing a load of fresh fruit and food.  We got up early and found that, even up above, a deep cold had descended from the surrounding mountains, leaving us in a sheen of morning ice.  We packed up our crispy bags, now soaked with collected condensation and hit the trail.  We shivered in the subfreezing temps, even this late in spring in the desert.  Eventually, the AZT came up on a rise and provided a long view of leafless cottonwoods lining the entire path of Sycamore Creek, now in the distance.

​The pattern repeats.  All ascents one day.  All descents this day.  I woke up very grateful for the awesome campsite we had last night.  We were dry, sheltered from the wind and rain.  Today looked clear weather-wise, but the morning was ridiculously cold.  We got up, scraped a layer of frosted ice off our tent, and got moving for warmth.  We crossed over Shake Spring and got that frigid water on the toes to help us move along.  The trail swept in and out of valleys and we passed many backpackers in various campsites the closer we got to Four Peaks Road.  With that, we stumbled past a beautiful site onto the road.  That road.  I hadn’t been up here in several years - the last time with Reed when we summited.  We were up on Four Peaks!

This is Part II of ascending Four Peaks on Day 30.

Rounding the eastern flank, the grizzled and scored tops of the Four Peaks came into view.  Plus a massive storm hitting from the northeast.  The sweep around the mountain made us realize how we were really paralleling Lake Roosevelt, almost hiking its length from afar.  Jagged burnt trunks of lumbering old growth Ponderosa Pine appeared trailside, victims of prior wildfires.  The AZT curved to our left into a massive inward valley.  I was more stoked than anything to be so up near the Four Peaks.  I knew we would get near them, but not nearly right below their exposed granite summits.

One of those gorgeous days with so many photos I had to divide the day into two posts. This is Part I.

A drizzling night led to a damp morning with overcast skies. The rest of the day would threaten complete storms, hail, and visible downpours occurring in discrete patches around us. Most of the pictures of distant scenery from today have a large downpour occurring in some frame of the photo. The temperate morning was a welcome relief to the heat of yesterday. This ensured that our nearly continuous day of solely uphill travel from the low desert would be much cooler.

​I slept excellent last night due to the well-protected spot.  The wind barely made it into the trees where we camped and it was nice and silent.  Two days back on and my trail legs are back.  We packed up, headed out, rounded a corner, went up a small climb back the ridge again and were afforded awesome views of the descending ranges leading to Roosevelt, a 10 mile and 3000 ft. loss section.  Bluebird skies ranged overhead while every plant seemed more vibrant from the sputtering rain.  Looking back at where we had walked yesterday, the Superstitions seemed just as rough and rugged.

THE SUPER V!  Today would prove to be the hardest day both mentally and physically yet.  

What a terrible night’s sleep last night was.  A windstorm swept over the mountains in the night, pummeling our exposed (my fault) shelter with constant 10 - 20 mph wind and gusts reaching 35 - 40 mph.  Those gusts happened about twice a minute all night.  The Triplex (being made of Dyneema) would swell at the seams, bend, and bellow this horrible noise that made it seem the sky was falling.  Dyneema (cuben fiber) is awesome for its waterproofness, but its bellowing in wind is unmatched.  I slammed earplugs in my ears to drown out the explosive shaking.  That taken care of, the wind began gusting horizontally bringing a hoard of fine silt dust through the netting.  All of it settled on my face and body since I was sleeping on the windward side.  I felt like I woke up once an hour, my face and body caked with dust.  Again, my fault for campsite selection.  That was coupled with an intense cold brought in by the approaching front.

​Morning arrived quickly to the tune of 4 am.  Janna’s teammate Tony, from her school, was graciously picking us up at 5 am, dropping us back at the Picketpost Mountain Trailhead where we had stopped several days before, before he turned around and made it to school to teach all day.  At 6 am, we rolled into the parking lot, just as the cusp of the sun hit the horizon.  We were also eager to get going to avoid getting cooked in the low country.  A second older couple stood in the parking, also getting ready to embark.  They were definitely seniors and the look of their gear indicated high experience.  We talked to them briefly before they took off.  Faster than us, we wouldn’t see them again until the end of the day.

​Sleeping hard in our own bed in Phoenix was the relaxation I needed.  All four of slept in and woke to the warm glow of spring in the desert, doors thrown open in the apartment.  We decided that we would take two zero days here for the reasons (a) it was our apartment so it didn’t cost us extra to stay, (b) we wanted to spend some time with Taylor, (c) we were ahead of schedule due to our faster hiking pace than expected, (d) because we could.

Photos galore follow as can only be expected when you hike through one of the most beautiful places you have ever seen.  My respect to you, Alamo Canyon, one of the absolute highlights for scenery on the AZT out of all sections.  If you wanted to do only one section of the Arizona Trail and see the Sonoran desert in its prime glory, this would be it. 

After the rainy night, a cool morning dawned.  Today was an undertaking day.  The longest waterless stretch yet, we planned on no reliable sources to occur between our campsite on the Gila River and our pickup at Picketpost Mountain 22 miles away.  We would also be covering completely exposed Sonoran desert mountainscape with little chance for shade, a canyon for heat concentration, and the sure temperatures of the previous two days.  With that, we got up early, only to watch Rosey leave even before we did.  He said goodbye and it would be the last time we would see him, although we maintained text contact throughout the rest of the trail.  Time to beat the heat in the morning with a 2,000 ft. ascent.  4 L strapped to each of our backs and almost no food left, we had a timetable to catch a ride from Taylor (Harrison’s fiancée) who was picking us up.

​The heart of the Gila River Canyon is an epic showcase of Sonoran desert botany.  Less canyon than its name conjures, the topography of the place is a great riparian valley/floodplain with mountains rising off the side.  Coursing its way through the middle of this floodplain is the great muddy beast, swollen with snowmelt and recent rain.

Today was a day of wildlife.  With the first crack of light edging the horizon, Janna and I exited our shelter to get a move on.  We had no water since around noon yesterday and we wouldn’t have one for several miles still.  The morning was cool and overcast.  The AZT was lined with miles of yuccas in bloom, providing sweet nectar to Mexican long-nosed bats in the night.  After a four mile start to the day, through scrubland and low desert, we hit up some double track that began rolling towards a few distant power line towers.

Today, the flower blooms just continued to sweep and rival everything today.  As a thru-hiker we would later meet would say: “My hike is measured in MPB….miles per blooms.”

​The Sonoran Desert is beautiful to me thanks in no small part to the season of spring.  Spend some time around me, and I’m sure you’ll hear me gush about the wildflowers blooms that occur.  There are no sweeping, diverse, and starkly brilliant blooms as those in the Sonoran Desert when the wildflowers blaze across the landscape.  After our epic El Nino winter and spring, I had been waiting to see a stunning spread of blooms, but so far, everything had been average.  In fact, heading into today, I thought we might see some blooms, but didn’t give it much thought.  This particular stretch of the Arizona Trail, the one linking Oracle to Superior, had, in my mind, been steadily growing as a stressful challenge as we approached it.  No section is lower, more exposed, hotter, and with fewer water sources than this section, all wrapped up here.  I was expecting 100+ degree temps, blazing afternoons, tons of rattlesnakes, questionable water availability and sources, and a struggle with head exhaustion.  Yet, this whole stretch, when complete, would end up being one of the most stunning, memorable, beautiful, and compelling reasons to hike the Arizona Trail.

​We took a much needed Zero Day in Oracle.  We haven’t taken a day off since Patagonia and the legs are hungry for rest, plus tons of food.  Oracle is a small town north of the Santa Catalina Mountains where Edward Abbey spent the last years of his life.  It’s got a few amenities, is known for the Biosphere 2, and has a sweet cafe.  We slept in, but we were still up with the sun from circadian habit.  Based on recommendations from Marney, we made our way to a Mexican restaurant purported to have an amazing breakfast spread.  It was truth.

​Waking up with light coming over us, Janna and I ate a cold but sunny breakfast behind the abandoned water tanker from last night.  Chris had been up early and had caught up to us; he was now filling up water from the cattle trough.  He peaced out quickly as he was eager to get to Oracle, AZ where his wife was waiting to meet him.

​The cold winds swept through the woods all night, meaning morning was freezing cold and in the low 30s.  Knowing today was predominately downhill, Janna and I allowed ourselves to sleep in a bit until the sun was actually touching the Triplex.  We climbed out of the Triplex and parted from Chris who wanted to nestle in his cocoon of warmth for longer.

​As far as yesterday’s beauty, let me rephrase what I originally said.  Yesterday and today were by far the two most beautifully joined days on the trail.  If yesterday was sauna and dry rain forest, then today was all alpine and granite domes.

Today ended up being one of the most beautiful areas of the entire AZT.  

Janna and I slept in until 6:15 am today, bidding adieu to both Chris and Peanut.  6:15 sounds early, but at this point in the hike, with no electronics or constant external nighttime light sources to mess with my circadian rhythm, I had settled into a comfortable natural rhythm: Get sleeping and fall asleep as soon as it’s dark (~7:30ish pm), and wake up entirely awake at the crack of dawn (~5:45 am).  Plus, wake up around 2 am after First Sleep is accomplished, be fully awake for an hour, and then fall back asleep for Second Sleep.