It’s always hard to hop back on trail after a zero. I mostly stayed still reading, writing, eating and watching movies. My body needed to be supine, that’s for sure.
Big clouds fill the sky and there’s a touch of drizzle when I cross the street to put my thumb out. A truck stops for me and the passenger is laughing when he opens the door. “What’s so funny?”
Oh, he’s a thru-hiker as are two others in the back seat. Holly of the nose piercing, Flash and a third one who joked with me about knowing me by reputation – not a good one. You’re so mean! kind of stuck in my mind as his name. Shannon drives, a trail angel who opens her home. I think having my own private crash pad worked the best.
She drops me at The Early Bird Cafe filled with locals. I have the special, a huge plate of French toast, eggs and bacon. When I ask for the check she tells me someone picked it up. A guy who looks like he’s preparing for a day of manual labor tells me to be safe out there. I’m deeply touched.
The fun continues with my hitch – an older woman expertly driving a stick. She yells, “Get in, get in!” and takes off before I have the door closed. She’s racing to Payson to take care of an even older woman. She turns up her hearing aid to hear where I need to go and simply stops in the middle of the highway (no one was coming either way) to get out. I’ve had some bizarre pickups, and this one’s up there.
I look both ways but the road is still quiet after she zooms away. I walk up a dirt road and find the trail head which winds gently uphill through forest.
The air is cold and I’m nervous I won’t be warm enough. But as soon as the sun peaks out from behind a cloud, I’m hot. The terrain has totally changed to ponderosa pine forest along with manzanita and some oaks.
The rain really came down yesterday, briefly as snow, but mostly wet and heavy. Everything sparkles in the sunlight, droplets still clinging to leaves. But even the air sparkles, clear and fresh.
I march along seeing ahead that I’ll need to climb up and suddenly, I hit mud. This is not the splash-through kind, in fact it’s not all that deep. Instead, it’s a kind of sticky clay gumbo. I slip a bit, but it’s not falling that’s the problem. It’s the fact that this kind of mud adheres to shoes making them as heavy as lead.
I use my sticks for balance and they too fill up with heavy bits of this red substance. I bang them every so often to release a ball of mud. I’m heavy and panting uphill with all this weight. It makes no sense to try to scrape it off because more just sticks right back on. I am not sure I can manage an entire day of this.
I see Flash and Holly’s footsteps often sliding about and realize that ever so slightly, the mud is drying as I don’t slip quite as dramatically an hour behind.
None-the-less, my Frankenstein boot feet rejoice when I hit pine needles and can walk normally – at least until the next patch.
I’m ascending and contouring the mountain, looking back in Pine and Strawberry tucked in their valley. Looking back at Mazatzal Peak I see it’s now dusted with snow.
The forest covers the hills in waves as clouds make giant shadows as they float over. It’s an absolutely perfect day.
The trail moves up and down, sometimes steeply, as it works its way around the mountain and I lose sight of the town. Mountains in jumbled layers of blues line up into the distance.
I reach a Red Rock spring directed to a trough and fill up. A woodpecker pounds then laughs. A hummingbird buzzes overhead making several passes to see who I am and what I’m up to. Mountain Jays cackle and a chickadee flutters a high pitched tune.
I leave my views to walk deeper in the forest and cross a dirt road. I hear saws at work and know where I’m walking must be next on their list as several gigantic trees have fallen across the path. Webber Creek is roiling after all that rain, but I’m full on water now, so head on.
Ahead is a magnificent wall in brick red and taupe, crumbling into shapes like ramparts, foliage helping along the erosion. I begin to walk on large slabs of red sandstone that shimmers in the sun as if studded with diamonds.
I follow this wall around, up and down towards washes, some with water, but never up and over. My entrance to the Mogollon Rim is still far ahead, up a steep canyon. For now, I follow it catching views of the intricate wall of towers and buttresses.
At Bray Creek, a pipe channels the water and it’s easy to fill up. I sit here in the sun for lunch. Somehow I get complacent and assume that my trail is in the woods now and will be easier walking.
Never assume.
I’m sent into a deep trench of cling-on clay and come out with high heel sneakers. It’s so awful, I begin to miss rocks and in a kind of sick joke, I get both for a while.
Still, the views are magnificent of enormous cumulus clouds sailing over a sea of pine, a colorful wall and mountain range after mountain range surrounding.
I see the canyon I will climb tomorrow and the trail takes me to it on a forest roller coaster, up and over then deeply down to a creek bed. The trail is built with switchbacks not so much for our ease but to avoid erosion. In several turns, giant rocks have been expertly placed like tiles to funnel the water, much like I saw in Scotland.
I pass a sign that informs me this section is maintained by the Shadow Rim Ranch Girl Scouts. Way to go! Entire sections have been cleared of brush, blowdowns and overgrowth and I’m very grateful.
A waterfall is burbling loudly at Chase Creek which is closed to fishing for some reason. I take my last few ups and downs passing under electric wires that follow a road to cabins.
I can hear East Verde before I see it, the same river I collected from far downstream in the Mazatzals. There’s a horse corral and some flat spots but I move upstream a bit for one closer to the water.
It’s getting dark, so I get water, set the alicoop and have a dinner of noodles and olives – a perfect combo of carbs, fat and salts – then cuddle in and relish this magnificent day with the river singing me to sleep.
So far, I’m toasty warm.
