AZT day 28, Marshall Lake to Flagstaff (urban trail) 15 miles

The tent feels less wet but it’s cold. No frost, just that ”I’ve had quite enough of this” kind of cold. I sit up and scratch my shoulder. I feel several large welts. What’s this? Surely not mosquitos of which I’ve seen exactly zero. You know what, these are not bugs from the outside. These are bugs on the inside. Someone hitched a ride.

I haven’t really looked much at my face out here, but I have bites up and down my left side. They’re swelling up and really hurt. Bed bugs. I had them twice – in Pakistan and in a nice hotel in Milwaukee. They don’t carry disease, but I get an allergic reaction, swell and itch, the bites ooze and then there’s a risk of infection.

I gotta get out of here!

I notice one other tent in the trees as I leave. It’s funny how lonely this hike is because people pass or are behind and you never see them again. I do hear from the Germans, Frauke and Dennis, and love that we connected.

The trail winds around back and forth on long seemingly pointless switchbacks since the slope is so gradual. I laugh remembering the steepness of some of the climbs, like up Mount Lemmon or coming down a rock-filled road to Roosevelt Lake. This has been a hard trail and oftentimes unlovely.

But here must be a bike trail with curves and twists to make a rather ordinary forest more interesting. I move well and fast, not bothering to filter more water since town is close.

I sidle the mountain over a steep canyon and can hear the road below. Cliffs appear and recede and I finally aim for my big fairytale mountain – Humphrey’s Peak one of the San Francisco Peaks, frosted with snow like a pointy cupcake. I look for a place to sit and enjoy the view, but the trail moves down quickly to a kind of saddle and I find myself again in Ponderosa pine and blonde grass.

I pass a red sandstone wall, colorful in this plain landscape. I wonder if I’m done now thru-hiking. I came partly to prove that I could still do this thing, physically, emotionally, mentally. I can. I ‘crushed’ miles and my spirit, while battered from the monotony and lack of views, still appears to be balanced. I whistle, sing, laugh at things. I smile at the two day hikers who pass me – though they appear too busy for a hello.

Hmmm, a harbinger of things to come? I turn left onto the ’urban trail’ and see huge, eroded rock walls in the more interesting Walnut Canyon. Another time, I need to get this bed bug issue under control first.

On and on the trail goes. I hear a dog bark and bikers fly towards me. We laugh together at how badly that dog wants to run. What is there to tell? i walked and I arrived and the scenery never changed until smack dab in front of me are twin bridges for Interstate 40.

Richard guides me to the street I’ll walk to a trail angel’s home. It’s not too hot with a breeze, but the exhaust is choking. I stop at a Whole Foods and finally see my face – swollen and bumpy from bites. At the self-serve I smile at another shopper who frowns and looks away.

OK

But another offers me a ride to the angel’s house. I guess I should have kept my mouth shut about bed bugs. The driver ejects me from the car and tells me she just can’t take any risks. Of course I understand, but when I post on the AZT private Facebook page to ask for help with logistics to manage my situation, I am stunned with the responses. Everything from certainty these welts are nothing but gnat bites to links to website pages that give steps to take to clean my gear followed by I don’t have time/interest/energy/give enough of a damn to help you in taking these steps. Trail ‘angels’ completely ignore me. It is not a happy moment.

I’m going to have to skip forward here and say that I couldn’t stay at the trail angel’s studio apartment so I borrowed garbage bags and sealed all my gear, got a hotel and put every item I could in the washing machine, then washed myself.

I hand washed what can’t be laundered and it is tightly sealed in a garbage bag in the hot sun killing any remaining eggs. I fumbled on washing my quilt and had to walk it down a long, urban road to a repair shop. When I asked for a ride, people were basically mean. But I love to walk, so who needs a ride anyway?

I walked to the doctor, to the pharmacy, to restaurants, to tourist spots and I should have things all bug-free now. A few people (friends of and children of friends) might be lending me a hand to get back on trail tomorrow. I do need a ride forward because time is running out – and more than anything, I need a kindness, I need grounding and help figuring out a set back.

Perhaps I am a pariah. Perhaps I’m not cool enough. Who knows? It has been nearly unbearably lonely and sad here in Flagstaff. And yet, I figured it out and key people from afar like Richard and Jeanne and Valerie and James and many, many others gave me the moral cheering I so craved.

What does someone take from this experience? People can be selfish and utterly useless when you’re really in trouble. Yet is that cause for cynicism or is that cause to choose more carefully who is allowed in? I am on the verge of this nightmare being past tense. I schlepped my stuff and was resourceful enough to manage in the end.

One of my friends is a forgiving but never forgetting kind of guy. I’m sure I’ll cut my bitterness loose, but like him, those who couldn’t be bothered to offer up a change of clothes while I washed everything, or a sandwich while I kneaded the feathers in my down quilt hour after hour at the Loggermat or simply answer a text asking for help – while you’re not in the forefront of my mind, I won’t forget how you behaved.

That being said, I too must decide the person I want to be. A self-absorbed, entitled human or a good samaritan who realizes we’re all in this life together and helping someone helps us too.

The one trail angel, Gary, lives nearby. He couldn’t help much without a car and his place is too tiny. But he’s offered to cook for me now and I am going to let him.

UPDATE: THE HIKE CONTINUES! thanks to the magic of children-of-friends-of-friends. My bedbug bites are better, the gear is fumigated and I feel like a human being again. I am deeply grateful!