[Day 16] The Mazatzal

In absence of dinner last night, I elected for a protein bar and some Red Vines this morning to help stomach a couple vitamin-I’s (ibuprofen). I started out gently on my sore ankle. The first mile featured more expletives, similar to my gimp to last night’s camp. Slowly, I gave the ankle full force, focusing on dorsal flexion and mid-foot strike. Miraculously, the pain subsided — back in business. Youth remains on my side.

Backpacking four liters of water, I was continuing my carry of 23 miles from East Verde River to Philson Spring. There were other potential sources along the way, but I decided against wasting time searching and scrounging at evaporating pools.

The next few days are deep in the Mazatzal Wilderness. For the southbound hiker, the Mazatzal is the first significantly challenging terrain since Grand Canyon. I’d approximate 70% of the Arizona Trail’s estimated 110,000 feet of ascent come south of Pine. It is time for the roller coaster.

From here south, every plant has some aspect of thorns, barbs, or prickles. Trail was well overgrown, so my legs saw their share of dry scraps and even a couple bloody stabs. A day ago, I was pricked by some plant that gave me quite a size-able reaction on my leg,

Before Bear Spring, my last water source for the day, two F-22’s low passed through the Mazatzal. An hour or so later, three C-130’s through the pass at Mazatzal Peak. On the PCT, a jet fighter went inverted over Olancha Pass in the Southern Sierra, close enough where I made out the figure of the pilot. All those Top Gun scenes in the Sierras and desert, they happen on the regular. It doesn’t take too much luck — just a few hundred miles of hiking, or go sit at Star Wars Canyon near Death Valley.

In the later evening, the climbing for the day led up to a ridge, giving my first look at the outskirts of Phoenix. A more populous Arizona approaches. The 110-mile haul to Roosevelt Lake will be the last in the series of point-to-point drives of the trail, unless I decided otherwise. But, quick convenience towns about one to two days in separation should be more often at my disposal south of Roosevelt Lake.

It’s been 16 days since a shower, shave, or laundry. That dirty, grimy feeling after days without a cleaning has approached it’s asymptotic limit. No longer am I cognizant of my filth. I did, however, notice a gun-powdery scent to my hair at the end of the day. A combination of dirt, sweat, oils, and smoke residue have been baked in by the sun, providing a smell reminiscent of quickly cycling a few rounds through a rifle.

I ended my day on a ridge, so I had to walk a couple miles extra into the night to find a saddle appropriate for a campsite. After 26 miles and 5,300 feet of climbing, I pitched a cowboy camp, ate some beans, and holed up for the night.

Signing off,

Zeppelin

“Freak on a Leash”