Everything's fine after Pine

Hiking from Pine to Flagstaff on the Arizona Trail

The trail felt empty, but not lonely. All the thru-hikers had passed through weeks before. Their reviews of this 115 mile stretch weren't exactly glowing. The Ponderosa treadmill. Boring. In the trees. But, largely flat and easy. You could race through it, they said. As if I wanted to race. Maybe I did?

The first day was not easy, though. I arrived back at the Pine trailhead, where I had stumbled out of the Mazatzals a month earlier. It was a steady climb in ninety degrees, with a few cows and low, exposed shrubby landscape. Everything's not fine, I thought. Why are there still rattlesnakes? Why is it so hot? Why am I doing this?

(I wonder this a lot about myself)

It wasn't until day 2 that I wandered into a magical place. Water! Ferns! It was all I could do to keep walking and not just live by the Verde River. This Verde, so much farther north, was so much clearer and sparkling than the same sluggish river I had waded through a month earlier. I was captivated.

As I climbed up to the Mogollon Rim, I emerged onto a mesa that stretched for almost a hundred miles. Ponderosa and oak trees. Shade. Soft trails. Everything was indeed fine after Pine!

Those five days that I spent traversing those 115 miles were some of the most peaceful and enjoyable times I have ever had on trail. It wasn't for the epic views (there really weren't any), but rather I fell into a heightened sense of both awareness and a walking meditation. The only people I saw were when I ducked into a campground for water, and they largely kept to their own devices, except for the woman who tried to give me kebabs and another who gave me ice water. My thoughts ebbed and flowed without interruption. I don't listen to music or podcasts out here. There's enough noise back in the world. Some people have forgotten to really exist without constant entertainment. Here, I was entertained by wind in the trees, the early morning birdsong, elk running through the forest.

The miles came effortlessly: 21, 27, 22 per day. I started hiking by 5:30 and often ended twelve or thirteen hours later. I felt as though I could walk forever. It was gratifying to know I could still walk far. Today was not that day.

Years from now, if you ask me about the Arizona Trail, I would mention the trifecta: wind, heat, snakes. With also a dash of questionable water sources. These were here too, requiring careful tent placement, big water carries, and careful foot placement. But what a trail can teach is adaptation and resilience. You will find you rise to the occasion.

On the fourth day, I was surprised to see a group of about twenty boys appear with daypacks. Their leaders looked to be in various shades of fitness. Intrigued, I asked them where they were headed.

“Ten miles?” One boy guessed.

“We're going all the way to Flagstaff! Twenty miles!” One of the leaders enthused.

But I liked the answer one boy gave the most: “Good question!”

You're right, little dude. Where are we all going? Good question.

There's a saying among thru-hikers of the Arizona Trail, to signify that the worst of the climbing, the desert, and the heat is over. “Everything's fine after Pine,” they say. And it's true. It's really true.

I didn't intend to section hike another long trail. The PCT was difficult enough logistically to finish. But here I am, almost done with another one.

188 miles left of the entire trail

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