After passing out on the side of the road after a 48-mile day, you would think that I would be excited about reaching the end. Taco Comfort Solutions (a main sponsor besides Ransome Multimedia) was sending a dude to meet me with a bottle of Dom, take me out for dinner, and give me a ride back to Vegas where they had booked me a room at the Rio. Very exciting stuff, I know. I should have been elated by this incredible end, but at the time it did not feel that way.

I told them I would shoot to be at the finish line on Wednesday at 6 pm, and I still had around 70 miles to go. I was tired. I could brush it off and not mention it, sound like I was ‘Tommy Tuff Nuts’ but, truly, I was beat. The pace, my body and the same types of food had worn me down. I was close and I knew it, but there just wasn’t much left in the tank.

Roadwalking is fine, I’ve done a lot of it, but it can be boring. Maybe that’s why so many thru-hikers skip them. It’s easy to know your distance and pace but, after 6,800+ miles, it seemed to have a crazy way of exposing the parts of your body that have just been barely holding on. In my case, feet, shoulder, back and knees. Did I say knees? Yeah, knees.

There’s wasn’t anything I could do about the pain, so I ran. My pack was light. I was out of water, low on food and ready to end this thing. It was going to hurt anyway, so I figured running most of the last 5 miles wouldn’t matter.

As I crested the hill, I saw the “Nothing” billboard, and a rental car pull into the parking lot, then the trunk popped, and a bottle of Dom came out of it; it hit me. Not in the way that you think. Not in the way thru-hikers are moved to cry at a monument or dance or whatever. It was more… I don’t know, relief. Rescued from it in a weird way. I realized I didn’t have to worry anymore. Not about time, pace, food, water, weather, or terrain.

I knew that by tagging that sign and hopping into the air-conditioned car I was headed back to the safety of the regular world and its guarantees: get food when I’m hungry, grab an extra jacket when I’m cold, go inside when the weather isn’t good. Predictability, routine, and schedules; the struggle was over.

I did it my way. It wasn’t always perfect, but I got it done. The Great Western Loop in under 200 days. Someone once told me it was my dream. I corrected them and said it was the ultimate challenge.

A special thanks to Dallas and Mayra, from Ransome Multimedia; they are my backbone. Always there. Always helping and always supporting me. My friends and family and my incredible sponsors. Todd Facey, from Taco Comfort Solutions, spearheaded the financial support. Taco doesn’t usually sponsor thru-hikers (not many companies do financially) but this man believed in me, in the message I was trying to convey, and made things happen. I was so lucky for having had their support, and for Todd. Thank you!!!

Eastern Mountain Sports (EMS) took great care of me. They heard me on the SLASR podcast, understood I’m not a huge social media person, but knew that I work with my feet and not with my thumbs. All the miscellaneous gear I needed, they got me. Things while I was hiking, they were there.  Incredible!!!

Levi “Bed Head” and Grant “Gusha”, from Nashville Pack, are solid dudes. That is the one piece of gear that becomes a part of you, and they are making the best! Keep crushing it guys!!!

Darn Tough socks hooked me up with 17 pairs of their lightweight gems. It’s the go-to sock, and anyone that hikes knows that. Thank you!!!

In the end, they were right, completing the Great Western Loop was a dream and, amazingly enough, it came true.

34.8 miles per day was my average. Wrapping my head around that will definitely take some time.

 

Great Western Loop

Nothing, Arizona – Nothing, Az

6,875.5 miles

197 days 11 hours 12 minutes 17 seconds.

34.8 mpd

 

This Hiker Just Completed the 6,800-Mile Great Western Loop in Less than 200 Days

 

 

 

Total Mileage:  266.9

 

The Tonto Trail inside the Grand Canyon is rugged. Looking at the map, it reminds me of an earthquake needle. Back and forth, zigzagging alongside canyons that jut off from the Colorado River. As the crow flies, it would be about 25 miles, but it’s over 40. There is no signage; the only indications of the trail are small rock cairns.

I had to be careful while walking because the trail is right along the cliff walls at times, and because I didn’t download the right maps, it was hard to tell the exact location. Night hiking through this terrain, trying to navigate using only little rock piles, was tough.

It was warm in the canyon, but the views were spectacular! Slow going and tough. I scooped water out of puddles pooled up in the canyons. I would hike for a mile or 2 along the Colorado River, then hike 2 or 3 miles away from it, cross the canyon at a shallow spot and head back 2-3 miles toward the Colorado again. This is how it went for a day and a half.

I made it to the South Bass Trail, and it led me out of the canyons up steep terrain. By 3 pm I was out. 300 miles of various types of roads is the only thing separating me from the end of this thing!

I plotted a course using various jeep and dirt roads of approximately 100 miles to get to Seligman, AZ. The only water in this section was out of cattle ponds. Brown and sketchy, but my only option.

After a 47.7-mile day I arrived in Seligman. Exhausted, and with everything closed in this small town, the owner of the Route 66 motel, Wendy, gave me a Rubbermaid of fresh chicken stew she had just made. I ate the hell out of that, showered and died.

I had a late start the next day, with a huge breakfast at the local greasy spoon. Dallas and I plotted a course, and I was heading south. It was only 70 or so miles back to Nothing, AZ, but I needed the total miles of 6,875 to consider this loop complete. So, the route will go south, to west, to northeast to north, coming back up to where I started over 6 months ago.