AZT: Flagstaff to Grand Canyon

For veteran readers of the blog, I’m trying something a bit different; my spring break blog posts will summarize multiple days of my trip, informed by my daily journal. On the PCT I found myself not writing things I was thinking and feeling because I knew it would end up on the internet, so this is my current idea of a solution.

If that was too much inside baseball for you, then please enjoy

AZT Day 1

After an eventful sequence of Ubers and flights, I finally arrived in Flagstaff, where Bailey awaited me (where else?) at the China Star Super Buffet. My careful readers will recall that I met Bailey on Day 6 of the PCT when he took my photo at Eagle Rock. We became quick friends

We ended up hiking together for only eight more days, but we stayed in touch and, when I found out he would be hiking northbound on the Arizona Trail during my spring break, I was quick to invite myself for a section. Because I was joining based on timing and not the specific stretch of trail, I went in totally blind. In particular, I didn’t know that the 130 mile stretch from Flagstaff to the South Rim of the Grand Canyon was a barren wasteland, devoid of water and, with few exceptions, interesting scenery. More on this later.

We got on trail from the chinese buffet and hiked fifteen miles through a burnt out forest to our camp. The miles just disappeared as we talked incessantly, catching up on a jam-packed eleven months apart. Bailey assured me it would be quite warm when I got on trail (in contrast with the rest of his AZT hike), so I forwent a down jacket, a hat, and a warm sleeping pad… Temperatures were in the teens that night, so, compounded with my lack of adjustment to the altitude, I had a long night. Apparently I complained a bit too much in the morning, because while we were eating breakfast Bailey told me I should write a book about it.

AZT Day 2

Today had even less interesting topography, with two thirds of our almost thirty miles consisting of dirt road winding through private property, notably the Babbitt Ranch, where the trail actually avoids the public land, something I had never seen on my land ownership map layer. A gear shop owner in Flagstaff later explained this to me as Babbitt’s attempt to protect the AZT from the ever-shifting patchwork of public land statuses that plague conservative-controlled states hellbent on extracting and developing at the expense of their citizens. Thanks Babbitt!

The day started frigid and ended in the eighties with a blistering sun, but the walking was so relaxing—and we still had so much catching up to do—that I barely noticed any difficulty despite not having walked thirty miles since January. Aside from a long stretch through an active pile burn and a few stretches of lingering snow, the trail exemplified what my rose-colored glasses obstructed from my PCT memories: through hiking can be super boring. We ended at a nasty cow tank a mile off trail, but we were happy to have water, dinner (cold-soaked rice and beans with Fritos and salami for me), and some rest. Another cold night.

AZT Day 3

After another frigid night, we got more water from our lovely cowtank and continued to mosey down the road through Babbit Ranch. We roadwalked for another nine miles (we also took a shortcut, since the trail snakes through flat territory where the shortest distance between two points is _____) before Bailey had an epiphany: this was boring. He didn’t want to be bored and he didn’t want my spring break to be boring. Let’s cut off the last sixty miles and just hitchhike to the Grand Canyon. Baruch Hashem.

We backtracked four miles to a road, which thankfully turned out to be the road to big ditch. After over an hour, we finally got picked up by Mark, a middle-aged lawyer from Scottsdale who was a little bit off his rocker. He had just undergone 12 (!) experimental brain surgeries to treat his rare and otherwise terminal brain cancer. He told us about ancient Egyptians in the Canyon, where the Native Americans went wrong, and where to meet college girls in Flagstaff. When we got to the long line to enter the park, he decided that he was “authorized,” passing the line in the “authorized vehicles only” line at eighty miles per hour. Eek. We had fun with him nonetheless, though we were a bit relieved when we finally shook him at the backcountry office.

The ranger there, a super accomplished backpacker, hooked us up with a very mellow and exciting itinerary—five nights below the rim!