Hayduke Day 36: Cruising into AZ

Weekend and I have made a habit of slow mornings. Even as the sun rises earlier, we tend to roll out of wherever we called home for the night no earlier than 730am these days. Today, we try something new. A superfluous alpine start! We pack up under the milky way just as blue and orange start seeping upward from the horizon. The first few miles are slow, because navigating cross country without daylight is hard (should have seen that coming). Plus I keep needing to stop and watch the full choreography of light play out as day folds over the night.

Since we’re trying new things today, we wait for breakfast until the sun finds us. When it does, we pause, sip coffee, eat oats full of seeds and fruit and feel exceedingly smug to be alive and healthy in the desert. The views are spectacular; seas and wobbly peaks of slickrock.

Before noon, we enter the state of Arizona. I yell “hip-hip-hooray” three times, a Koopmans family ritual I’ve been doing since forever to celebrate crossing a state line. And with Arizona comes the Arizona Trail (AZT). From here to the Grand Canyon, the Hayduke and AZT overlap. Before heading south on it, I walk over to the northern terminus monument. There’s a poem on it:
The aches and pains will fade away
You’ll feel renewed and whole
You’ll never be the same again
With Arizona in your soul

These few lines from the poem are a prophecy. Today is an aches fading, soul refurbishing kind of day. The trail is easy to follow single track. Some parts are burnt but remarkably well maintained. I don’t step over a single blown down (we are indebted to the trail crew we see working on this section!). Meanwhile, with a popular trail comes an abundance of information on water. The FarOut app tells us where the sources are, which are best and how to access them. I collect a few liters of clear cold delicious water from an elaborate rainwater catchment system. And when it comes time to camp, there are flat spots with views, tree shade and wind protection every few tenths of a mile.

My body feels fluid. My foot hits squarely on the well graded trail. My food hits the precise spot my hunger needs. The trail bends in such a way that the sun is always in a perfect position to ensure no direct sun finds my face.

I could go on. These are glory miles! Uneventful, easy-going glory miles.

Weekend and I pick one of the flat tree protected patches of dirt and make camp. The choreography of light is back, now in reverse. We watch the final flourishes of sunset as we brush our teeth. Good night, Arizona.