Tuesday morning, and we need to reach the REI in Tucson, 25 miles away. Deb needs a hiking shirt, and we’d like to check out hiking umbrellas that stick to a backpack and provide a spot of shade. When Deb asks Andy about getting a bus into Tucson, he offered that he had an appointment near the REI at 10:00. Sweet! They had no umbrellas in stock, but Deb did buy a shirt.

We checked into a Best Western, cleaned up, and had time to repack before Deb’s brother and his wife stopped by. They had spent the winter in their motorhome in California, and were driving back to Minnesota. Lucky timing. We spent a few hours enjoying the hospitality at Olive Garden.

Tomorrow the feet meet the trail as we start climbing Mt. Mica.

We hoped for a fast 12 mile down hill run into Vail AZ. We had hiked from the land of the Pine at high altitudes, to the land of the oaks as we lowered, to the land of no shade on the desert floor. Today was the warmest so far. Low eighties. Nary a place to sit, only the trail itself, which we didn’t do owing to no shade. It’s hard to sit under an ocotillo, the tallest vegetation out here. So we were on the move for 8 hours only stopping to snack and get water.

Terry continued logging in more plant Identification. I took a picture of him with the app, and he’s identified as an animal. About two thirds of the way down, Terry told me to try my bird song ID. It identified twenty birds, some I had never heard before, like a verdan, a cactus wren, and an upland sandpiper. It was hard to stop pulling my phone out for more IDs, but we were heading into town and glorious things awaited.

Emerging from a trail into a road is disorienting. The noise and fast pace of traffic breaks the peace immediately. We didn’t know which direction town was or how to get there. Calling Uber, Lift and a Taxi provided negative results. Hitch-hiking gave us no hope. I wouldn’t pick us up. We were wearing weird clothing to cover every part of your body except nose and mouth. We were hot, dirty, and stinky. And we had huge backpacks.

A man approached us. He had been day hiking on the trail, and now was heading to his car in the parking lot. When I asked for a ride into town, he reluctantly said yes. But he was going in the the gun shop that was directly across from the post office, our destination, so what the heck? It seemed about 10 miles into town and we were happy we didn’t have to walk it.

Vail didn’t know how to be a town. It was a bedroom community of Tucson with no center, only the gun shop, PO, gas station and Dairy Queen. I went to the PO and Terry went to the gas station to get a Monster. When I came out of the PO, I saw a man lifting his tail gate and helping another man lift his backpack into the car. That can’t be Terry. What the ? Terry waves to me to come. This man told Terry he was a trail angel and we could stay at his house, since there is no lodging in Vail. Mighty generous of an unknown man.

We drove up and around housing communities to Spider Rock Road to a good sized, really nice house on a acre with view of the mountains. His ninety pound Pit Bull greeted us affectionately. I’m instinctively fearful of pit bulls, but he gave me no room to worry about him. The man, Andy, had to leave to go to his son’s volleyball game. He was a divorced dad with shared custody and the kids were with their mom on weekdays. It was about 3:30. Andy would be back around 7:00. Make yourselves at home, wash your clothes, take showers, No Wifi and weak Verizon service.

He drove off. We had an intense conversation about how stuck we were and how this detour would put us behind schedule by a day. We needed to be in our own space without distractions to regroup. We needed to spread out our stuff and focus on the next leg of our journey and call people and and eat with abandon and shop . . . And not visit with strangers.

Andy came home with a pizza and a salad for me and his friend, Rita. She had a great interest in hiking and she became a Trail Angel when she learned that people thru hiked this trail that basically was in her backyard. She had been encouraging Andy to get into this volunteering opportunity. And he pounced on it when he saw us in our state of need. Over a couple hour dinner, we learned a lot about these two generous people.

The bed was good.

We woke in the hallway of the 19th century ranch house that serves as a visitor center for a 3,000 acre NFS reserve. Thru Hikers land here because the terrain is pretty forbidding before and after this Forest Service Land. We found it wasn’t uncommon to pitch tents there and if there wasn’t room, to sleep on the porch or inside the ranch house exhibit. Being the last to arrive, we put our sleeping bags down at the end of a hallway inside the 19th century bunkhouse. We would have much rather camped alone away from such civilization. I felt as though we were in the movie Power of the Dog. I dreamt that Terry made me play the piano for the Hummel family who were pictured on one of the displays. My mother was a piano teacher, so she played well. I was horrible. You know the scene, if you saw the movie.

We left the ranch at 7:00. We walked to the top of the hill and and got LTE signal. I loaded my blog post we wrote on the night before. While we were doing this, two of the other hikers passed us. Two women aged 62 & 70, who haven’t hiked in 30 years. Now their gear is old and heavy and they need to carry lots of water. So we assumed we’d pass them shortly.

I called my brother. Greg has been following our Garmin locator signal that tracks our movement. He zoomed in and located us on Google earth. He wanted to know why we were in a building last night. He told me what our next post office looked like. He thinks the PO is new, so now we’re excited. Later at our 3:00 break Terry said, we must hurry because Greg will wonder why we’re stopping so log.

I turned on my Garmin watch yesterday for the last two hours of our hiking day. It tells me how far and fast we’re going. With the watch on, I was focused and faster. Terry has stayed behind me this year because, he says, I lose things. So I just sort of lallygagged along. Not good if you’re on a schedule.

Terry walked behind looking for pigpen to lose yet another pair of glasses. But when I turn around he is way behind bent over with his his new app (Seek) trained on some plant or tree. He looked serious and studious. When he catches up to me he shares his finds. We both love their delicious names like Desert Globemallow, Silver Nightshade and Rock Harlequin.

Two hours & fifteen minutes and five miles later, we stopped for our first break. As we were packing up, the two women caught up to us. We’re had they been? We thought they we’re in front of us. They had taken a wrong turn. We took the same turn, but checked our app and turned back immediately. They went on, as we donned our packs. we found them on break just ahead of us and never saw them again. We headed down the hill to a road and there across the street was an incredible trail angel cache of food, water, beverages and even chairs. We had just snacked but there’s always room for chocolate milk, bananas and apple pie. OMG it makes you weep.

Just up the trail we ran into a threesome walking merrily down. They were carrying no packs. People with packs don’t walk merrily. I asked if they were from Minnesota. Yes, from Brainerd. There was a car parked by the food cache with MN plates. Somehow they got around to telling us about how their son and a friend had pulled his ice-fishing house from Brainerd to the BWCA and then three lakes into the wilderness area to fish. Hmmm—

We maintained our good pace fueled by increasing pain. We ended after a 17 mile day. The weather was super. The one water source, a trough, covered in thick green algae, has served us well and will probably last to through the next 12 miles into town.

Tonight we made a campsite just a step up from a wash. It’s narrow and surrounded by cacti, snags, thorns, clothes-grabbing trees and bushes at every turn. Yet big enough to pitch the tent in a relatively flat spot. The slight slope keeps us on our toes. But we memorize every snag and rock to successfully maneuver down to the wash.

The pebbles in the wash made super comfy seats. We had quiet alone eating Cuban Rice and Beans from the same cook bag using the same spoon. We watched the sliver of a moon come into view as the sky darkened just after 7:00. Doves cooed. So much peace to be found.

The night was mild and dry, no interior condensation. By 7:30 we were pushing up the final 500 feet of climb over walker peak. On the descent into Walker Valley, the terrain gradually became more desert-like. Lots of stabbing members of the agave family lined the trail, daring anyone to venture too close. Cane chollo stood like silent stick people. There were also Mexican pinion, silver leaf oak, and another rainbow hedgehog. Turkey vultures patrolled the sky, while Stellars jays kept up the chatter .

For hours we descended on cobbly trails before arriving at bear spring, our water stop. It had been lightly shaded and cool, but both shade and cool were gone now. Weekend campers had driven a gravel road to access bear creek and we’re scattered around under tall sycamores that lined the creek.

The trail merged with the gravel road. For hours we walked in the hot sun, conserving water, not knowing where the next gallon might be. Finally we bumped into a butterfly aficionado, who had been scouring the desert in search of his favorite specimens. He recommended that we stop at Kentucky Camp, an old gold mining area. It is an amazing park service oasis for hikers. There are some historic buildings, complete with power and water.

Along with the troubles and pain of the trail, there’s always a bit of magic. A couple of days back, at a junction, a woman popped out in front of us. She had a bag with a liquidy yellow gruel she was eating. Her trail name was The Giver. She was pretty much a full time hiker. She had hiked about four hundred miles from the north, and when she finished she would head to California and hike the PCT again. She asked to take a picture with us. She takes a picture with everyone. So of course, we too wanted in. She had a tag sewn on her shirt that said “footprintsforchange”. When I looked it up yesterday, I found her Instagram account. It’s really fascinating.

When we arrived last night there were three hikers and a biker at the campground, I mentioned I’d lost my glasses, one of the guys said, check the hiker Box, there’s a pair in there. They fit! After two days of misery, I have a perfectly good pair of shades.

We walked to downtown Patagonia for breakfast, and to retrieve our food package from the PO. It’s a small town stretching about four blocks on one street. The storefronts are brightly colored and cutesy.

Because it’s small town the hikers and bikers that came into the diner filled the place. Our shuttle driver from Monday retired here because real estate is cheap, it’s quiet, and the birding is great. Also, the politics are liberal.

Back at the campground, we were trying to get a move on it. But after four days on trail, we had business to take care of, showers to take, a food box to pack and clothes to wash.

I called Diana about the next drop. I had asked her to sign my name on a document and send it to a company that needed my “wet” signature. When I asked how she did on this forgery, she said the only writing sample she had of mine was the “needs cheese” I had written on the food box. So she copied “Needs Cheese” as my signature. There it is my new trail name.

We didn’t get on the trail until two. It started on a gravel road that narrowed to a small rutted dirt road. Since leaving Miller’s Peak on the first day, we mostly been hiking with cows and going through gates. When it was time to pitch our tent, we found a nice flat spot. All we needed to do was clear the cow pies. Needs Cheese

I woke at 3:00 and sat up at 3:30 to begin yesterday’s journal. At 5:30 I began the process of packing from inside the tent. We both have our own doors and vestibules. I keep my backpack under the fly. I pulled it near the tent and start to load items hoping I’m putting them somewhere I’ll find them again.

The first two nights of this journey drove our soaking wet selves into our tent post haste. We stripped the wet outer layer and slept in our inner laying. No time for sleeping clothes. I liked not fussing with clothes in the morning and continued just sleeping in my clothing. Now all I need to do is pull my hiking skirt on which I do lying down. I stuff my sleep bag in the sack, pop the deflate on my Ex-Ped sleeping pad, roll it up and I’m mostly packed.

The sun actually hits our tent this morning. How did we get so lucky? Terry can sleep through this because he is much faster than I am, the sun makes rising easier, warmer. Even though I think this will be our early escape, we don’t hit the trail until 7:45. We have 17 miles to Patagonia so we needed and early start.

The weather was perfect for hiking, cool and sunny. We began with some trees, but desert climate stole them by 10:30. We ware on the dry side now where green is replaced with gray. Sitting gets hard because most of the vegetation has some form of thorn. It’s seems important to get off your feet but just taking off your pack is a rest.

At about 3:00, we still have 6 mile to go. We can’t make it in time to pick up our food box before the post office closes. The idea that it was an easy trek into Patagonia, wasn’t true. It continued to be difficult. We needed that early start.

We came to a fork with a arrow made stick pointing to the right. We followed it. Many of the bushes had orange ties on them. The trail wa easy to follow and out pace was good. About 1.6 miles later, Terry checks his app and we’re more than a mile off the trail. How could this be?? We go back a half mile and then wrestle with more confusing information and then continue back in the errors of our way. A half mile later, we turn back to the trail. Now we’ve gone at least four miles out of our way and still have 6 to go.

I haven’t had my pack off for hours. We haven’t sat for hours! At five miles we run into a trail angel. A guy in his early twenties who has hike about 10 long distance trails in the past four years, who now has a daypack full of tangerines he’s handing out, and he gives us water!!! We were almost out of food and water. We didn’t plan for the detour.

Over the last hill we spot six Javelinas, one with monster tusks! With two miles left and a quickly setting sun we’re left with a two mile road walk. The sun sets at 6:30. We arrived at Terra del Sol campground by seven. Long hard 21 miles…

We woke under dripping ceiling and side walls. It had rained early in the night but I think that was the end of it. At 3:30 I was searching for my coffee. I have Starbucks lattes in small packets. It’s powder. I pour it and cold water into my cup. It turns to a clumpy mixture and I stir and stir. The cup has dried clumps from Monday and Tuesday. It’s all quite horrible and wonderful at the same. You never wash anything on a desert trail.

Everything is soaked. The sun peaked over about 6:15 but did not hit our tent. We carried everything to the field and draped it on bushes and stubbly ground. The process is slowed by me searching for my sunglasses, which was in vane. This process took a couple of hours and we didnt hit the trail until after 9:00.

We headed down the trail past Parker Canyon Lake, large and scenic. The trail is wide without rocks. This will be an easy day, I dream. We’re traveling along a wide ridge and often we can view the landscape on both sides. Far below are long basins that stretch miles without towns or trees. These are not the cracked, grey deadly basins. They look like fields with yellow grass. In the background are silhouettes of mountains in all forms. It’s lovely. When we pass nearer the landscape, We’re amazed by how green the foliage is. At one point we saw a small barrow barrel shaped, multi-colored cactus. Terry used the app, Seek, to identify it as a Rainbow Hedgehog Cactus.

My easy day becomes hard. We ascend a hill with many switchbacks and steep climbs. And then the descent is littered with rock. And the pitch is shin splitting. We pick through hills all day. It’s brutal.

The weather, however, was perfect cool and bright with billowing clouds. It’s so peaceful. We were unprepared for such solitude. We had heard the trail was really popular. We’ve only seen four people in three days.

As we twisted and turned through a couple of creeks, some with water but mostly dry beds, we were up and down and around. The hiker we met on day one said that the last twenty miles before Patagonia was flat and easy. I thought for sure we had entered that zone. Until one of ups didn’t stop. And then it switched baked and then a long pull and it seem this pattern of torture would not end. I began cursing and blubbering until we reached the summit and then it was after five and the sun was behind the hill. We began searching for a campsite. Some of the most promising ones turned out to be ant hills. But we went on and found our best site so far. We got the tent up and settled for dinner in our tent by 7:00. How sweet it is to be dry. We don’t have dark skies, there is dim incident light at the edge of the sky from down below, but compared to living in the redwoods with stars only showing in holes in the canopy, it was great seeing whole constellations. The coyotes howling and foxes barking.

At 6:00, the usual time to get started, sleet was slamming sideways. We waited. By 8:00 there was no change. We jammed our belongings hastily into our packs, but as Deb reached for her mittens, one was gone. Maybe mixed in the tent wad in my pack, so I started unpacking. Thankfully it was inside. All the while sleet was penetrating wherever it could.

With the temp around 30 F, the wind drove us down the mountain. Shards of frozen clouds came sideways, breaking from the pines lining the rocky trail. All day we descended the cobbly trail in sleet, snow, or freezing rain. Progress was slow. At 4:30, Deb was nearly hypothermic, so we pitched the tent in a drizzle on a flat spot along the trail. Twelve miles in 8 grueling hours.

Our shuttle driver was great, lots of knowledge about the trail. We were joined by Holly a PCT hiker from Juneau. One more passenger made the fee less. Her pack was truly minimal with only a small tarp held up by one hiking pole.

At the trailhead the skies were ominous with dark clouds and the air was cool. We began our ascent. It was a slow climb one mile an hour. We stopped for lunch which was our only break. The trail turned and we were in driving punishing wind. We were blasted from the side and slowed to slower crawl with the headwinds. Summiting Miller’s Peak at over 9,000 feet, we then descended two miles to Bathwater Spring. Holly and Mike were there. They decided to spend the night. Terry got water from the bathtub. The winds were picking up. We had only gone six miles, so we decided to get more miles.

We didn’t get far. As we were heading out of camp, the wind turned fierce and it began to sleet. We wrestled our tent up on a space just above the two other tents. Everything was whipping around. By 4:30 we were hunkered down, the wind whistling and screaming all night. Pine trees became encased in ice and the shards from their branches pelted us all night.

This was a long day, hours in LAX in the midst of hundreds of thousands of people talking too loudly, gesticulating too wildly. And me fretting and fretting about what I might have forgotten and imagining me humped over under great weight.

Of course we had to leave our gallons of water behind because bottles of water are easy to come by as is the small canister of gas for our tiny Jetboil stove. Water was difficult, but the gas was impossible.

Terry is my rock. We will make it work except for Tuesday ‘s forecast of rain that could bring snow upon us as we climb over 9,000 feet. Right now this is what the journey looks like. But two miles in, it will be just walking and walking Joaquín. Consumed by the rhythm of an unknown trail. Nothing more.