Total Mileage: 240.8
I needed to have a solid week, something close to my average of 245. First, I had to finish the G.E.T. I knew a 30-mile day would be tough in this terrain. All I could do was my best.
On the trail at 5:30 am, I followed jeep roads for a bit and then I was on it. More bushwhacking, scrapes, and cuts. BRAMBLES! Eventually I made it to a canyon, which I followed for quite a while. It had a river flowing through it, so I didn’t have to worry about water. At one point I stepped off a rock and my entire leg sunk into the sand all the way up to my hip. My foot was straight down, and if I pulled too hard, I would have lost my shoe. It took 5 minutes of working my leg back and forth as the water flowed passed me to get my leg out. After that episode, I walked.
A few minutes later, I wondered how much longer I had in this canyon. Turns out I had missed a turn .3 miles back and I wasn’t even supposed to be there. Walking in quicksand, I backtracked. Found the route, lost it, found it, lost it. I tried to cut across and bushwack to get back, but it seemed I just kept making it harder for myself. I had to stop and re-evaluate my situation.
First off, 35-mile days were out, I knew that. The harder I pushed to try and make up what I felt I had lost, the harder the trail pushed back. I had to change my game plan. If I missed a turn, I would backtrack to where I missed it, no more cutting-up-and-over shenanigans. I would keep my phone out and follow the line as I went, instead of assuming I was on the right path. And I would also slow down and just go at a consistent pace without getting frustrated at losing time. It’s hard to swallow your pride a lot of the time, especially after 6,000 miles, but when you have to change, you have to change.
Surely enough, the G.E.T. became more enjoyable after this, and I started to embrace the “choose-your-own-adventure” aspect of hiking a route over a trail. By 10 pm I had made it to a jeep road and cowboy camped off to the side. My shoes and socks were completely soaked and covered with so many thorns and bits of prairie grass that the itching and pricking were unbearable.
I had 8 miles of road walk the next day, then 20 miles of river canyon hiking in the Aravaipa Canyon. It was fun and the water wasn’t deep. I saw a lot of weekend hikers in this section and at 2:30 pm I made it to the trailhead. Now I had 12 miles of dirt road and 11 miles of paved road to make it to Winkelman, AZ. I was out of food. Well, food that didn’t need water added to it. Ramen, oatmeal, and instant mashed potatoes were all I had left, and I couldn’t use my water for that. I felt like the G.E.T was a draw; yeah, I made it through, but barely. It tested me more than anything up to this point and I was so happy to be out of it and on my way to the AZT!
I arrived at the Speedway Gas station at 10:45 pm and, like always, went straight for the hotdog roller. I grabbed the last taquito, two hotdogs, two green chili cheeseburgers, a bag of Doritos and a pint of chocolate milk. I sat out on the curb and stuffed my face. The green chili cheeseburgers might be the best I’ve had in the trail, or I was so hungry it just seemed like they were.
Afterwards, I camped under the overpass at a defunct RV park. I laid my stuff on a cement platform and was just about to go to sleep when a couple of tweakers appeared out of nowhere and started asking me what I was doing there. I wasn’t in the mood. After 200 miles of getting my ass kicked, and a 44-mile day, I almost wanted them to try something.
Once they realized I wasn’t the fuzz, they told me to be careful of the rattlesnakes, which was good advice. I’d been so focused on my pace that I didn’t even think about it! Pushing through high grass, at night, and crawling over rocks during the day, if I had been bitten by one of those in the remoteness of where I was it could have been a very bad thing, to say the least.
After losing a breakfast sandwich out of my pocket on the road walk, I made it to Kearny, AZ, the next day and resupplied at the Family Dollar store. The sun was baking me, and I started to be aware of my own smell. I desperately needed to do laundry. Since Steamboat I haven’t done legit laundry, only cleaning my clothes in the shower, and It was time to get it done.
Leaving town was tough. I wasn’t used to the oppressive heat and the hot pavement. Walking west, directly into the sun, was wearing me down. By 4 pm I made it to the Arizona Trail. It’s a single track, well-marked trail, something I hadn’t seen in a while. I reached the lowest point of the AZT, just over 1,600 feet. From there, it was a 3,000-foot climb over 6 miles, and the only water for a while would be the Gila River. Flowing good and brown, I had to shoo a hoofed devil away from the spot from where I wanted to collect water. The heat beat me up and, by the end of the day, I was wiped out.
The next day started hot, of course, and then a thundershower came through and cooled everything off. Two hours later, another thundershower. It’s OK, I thought; two is OK. But I was determined to get a 40-mile day in, and I couldn’t deal with another one. It was 5:30 pm and, as I was ascending a mountain, I heard it and looked behind to see the darkest set of clouds, complete with thunder and lightning, coming my way. I pushed hard and, by 5:45, I was getting downpoured on. There was lightning shooting all around me so, as quick I as I could, I set my tent up in a small grove of trees; but not well, more like a temporary lean-to to protect myself because I really didn’t have time. This storm came over the top of me and I thought this could be it. I had a good run. In my fury to set up my tent, I had kicked a cactus so, as this crazy thing was happening above me, I was pulling thorns out of my foot.
This was certainly a low point for me on the trail. I felt like I just couldn’t catch a break. I needed as close to 40 miles today, and it wasn’t going to happen, AGAIN! Why do I care about my pace and mileage so much? you might be wondering. Why am I not just hiking the way a normal thru-hiker does, with multiple rest days and hiking whatever I can during the day? Well, I’ve only told a few people up to this point, but I might as well say it. I’m trying to become the first person to break 200 days on the Great Western Loop. It has never been done before. The fastest is 208 days. That’s why I’ve pushed so hard, that’s why I’ve talked a lot about my mileage and pace. BUT being stuck on the side of a mountain in a lightning storm, soaking wet in the dark, is not part of the plan.
This is where I had a decision to make. Do I fix my tent, hunker down for the night and ride this storm out, with 25 miles for the day? Do I just forget about this whole sub-200 thing? Or do I pack up my soaking wet gear, in the rain and lightning, and try and eek out another 6 plus miles before calling it a day? Screw that! I had gone 6,100 miles up to that point in 179 days. I wasn’t going to lose it now. I packed up in the storm, flipped off the sky and hiked my ass off. If I was struck, I was struck, but I was done allowing this crazy weather to dictate my hiking pace.
I went up and over mountains as fast as I could, down through canyons and pushing through overgrowth. An additional 7.5 miles in for the day, another cold and wet night. I was still in this.
The next morning, I made it to Roosevelt Lake Marina, dried my stuff, ate some real food, and ran into “Penguin”, a guy I had hung out with in Mammoth back in ’17. Cat at the Marina was nice and said these storms were not normal. I left there at noon, with a big climb out on the Vineyard Trail.
The following day I ran into “Sparkles” and “Circuit”, a great couple I had met on the Colorado Trail a month before. I pushed hard to finish out the week with a 43-mile day, ending near midnight. 240.8 miles for the week, just shy of 245, but after all the shenanigans of the week, I was happy with that numbers.
I needed a big week. I needed a string of good weather days. I needed to get to the Grand Canyon.
