AZT: Rain Collector to Superior, via LOST trail, 18 miles

The stars are brilliant sharp points in the velvety sky and a light breeze flutters my tent.

But it’s cold, so I close myself in and knock off.

Too bad John was enjoying the show through mosquito netting when the first drops hit.

Rain, again?!?

He hustles to put the cover on before getting washed out, and so quietly, I don’t really hear him. When we awaken at dawn, the sky is gray and menacing, the clouds low enough to touch.

It’s colder too and I eat sitting halfway in my bag. It’s almost over now and the walk is all downhill and shouldn’t be hard.

That’s where I make an error in judgment.

Truly, it is down on a decent slope, but I’m tired and really need a break – and if I walk all the way into Superior via a path through a riparian canyon, it’s close to 20 miles.

John says goodbye with a ‘thank you’ which I find endearing, and tells me after the big rock ahead, the view is fantastic.

It’s different over here. The saguaro are practically nonexistent, and even though it’s green and somewhat lush, there are fewer wildflowers.

Still, beyond the big rock and a small climb is a spectacular view of cliffs lit by a veiled sun, cloud shadows moving across. I appreciate the dramatic lighting, but clouds are building faster now to thunderheads and the big attraction of the day – a heap known as Picketpost – is only partially visible.

As I follow this valley, something new appears – death. All of the saguaro are stalks of wafery wood, curling at the edges as if scarecrows stuffed with straw. A drought? No, fire is my guess.

As the clouds build and I need to put on the failing raincoat, the darkness casts a pall that sends shivers up my spine. Creepy.

I follow a road briefly then break off on trail where a sign reminds bicyclists that ebikes and pedal assist are actually motorized so not allowed.

That’s when it thunders and a dark cloud over my head bursts forth. I feel like Charlie Brown as it follows me further and further to a crest where I am looking right at all of the Picketpost. Clear in the distance are the wild mountains of the Superstitions and I remember I walked all that and am closing the one gap today to finish the AZT.

As if to celebrate with me, two women appear heading in fully loaded. Debbie and Nancy will camp where I camped and I happily tell them there’s plenty of water and good sites.

Thunder rumbles and it begins to hail for only a wee minute, but they don’t change their mind and continue up as I circle around this monstrosity of rock.

The massive remains of a volcano, it’s mostly rhyolite and quartz and seems to stairstep like a massive layer cake, complete with a lemony frosting.

Its name has nothing to do with its shape rather it was named for the military officer who used it as a watch post.

The saguaro are healthy here and frame the thousands of pictures I take at ten step intervals as I circle the behemoth, as well as the wild clouds building, exploding, drifting off, then somehow deciding to harangue the Superstitions which turn a scary black, a veil of white rain streaking in front.

It doesn’t seem to slow a single hiker as they pour in from the parking lot. Or horses, which I meet circumnavigating the mountain. I take their photo, then a wrangler positions a horse head – rather than butt – next to mine for a photo. She smells sweetly of hay.

Soon I meet the Arnett Canyon Trail which will take me to the Legends of Superior Trail into town. I hesitate for a moment absolutely gassed, but my guide says it’s only four miles to town.

I learn it’s closer to 7, but who’s counting at this point?

More stunning views of the Picketpost open up and the rain stops, though clouds hover and stack begging for photos. The trail enters a canyon and I’m shocked how much water runs through. Many hikers and dogs pass through for the shade from spring green cottonwoods. Two full grown, healthy palms take over a particularly scenic patch and I wonder how they got there.

I talk with hikers along the way, including Roxie and (forgot name!) who walked the AZT twice! How, I ask and she replies by not walking 20 mile days!

I know I’ll pay for today as my muscles ache and Superior is far in the distance. Just as I explain I move very slowly, the horses catch up and the riders exclaim that I must be running. Well, ok…

I leave this heavenly spot and come out onto a steep road which deposits me at Queen Creek also running. A bull with a giant erection blocks my path. Hmmmm. I speak nicely and move slowly around him. He watches me go, not moving or going flaccid either.

His harem hang out under the trees and I meet families camping in family-sized tents. One gives me a seltzer water.

It’s flat and sandy past the airport, where a glider is launched on a towhook to catch these stormy-enhanced thermals. Ahead is the fantastic sedimentary escarpment of Apache Leap, black from the storm building.

As I come into town, I text a trail angel named Edith telling her I’m 59 and alone and asking if I might stay with her. In a few moments she texts right back and says yes.

Oh halleluia! I am so wiped out, I can hardly think anymore and so happy this part is done. Better still Edith lives in Mesa, so I am well situated for my next hike – once rested.

I check in with Richard and he laughs as I clang through one of the magnificent steel gates. I place the phone in my pouch as I cross and recross the creek on smoothed boulders, then he helps me escape this odd urban trail up to a Mexican restaurant, the same I had breakfast with Hector two years ago when he dropped me here to keep hiking north. Such a nice rounding out of this trail!

Edith arrives soon and we make our way into town past all the lovely mountains. She is a bit younger than me and just taking up backpacking, walking the trail bit by bit.

As we talk, I mention meeting David who I knew from the Te Araroa and that he’s walking the Grand Enchantment Trail. She refers to hosting a woman who walked it. I ask if it’s perhaps Katlyn, the friend I walked the Wind River High Route with. It is!

They have remained friends and I knew there was a reason Edith’s name jumped out at me.

Now clean at last, eaten a burro from Los Hermanos and cuddled into crisp sheets, I begin resting and letting it soak in I finished the trail!