The wind blew hard overhead all night. It would only reach our tent in gusts, but the noise of it just made my back seem cold. I snuggled deep into my bag waiting for morning’s light and warmth. I have the end-of-the-hike mind. I don’t want to open my sleeping bag because I smell so bad, so foremost I want a long shower then a bath then another shower.

The terrain was taking on a pattern of meadows with dusky green/gray grasses, ribboned by a narrow cut of red trail heading sharply up into thick forest and plunging back down what looked like the same meadow. This part of the trail is supposed to be descending to the end. We may be loosing elevation, but it involves a lot of ups and downs. It’s difficult and exhausting.

We ran into three Hayduke hikers, a couple from Scotland and a woman from Virginia. The hike follows a crazy path hitting many of the parks in Utah before hiking in the Grand Canyon. The three said they didn’t understand some of the choices on the trail but overall found it amazing and great fun.

Later on we were sitting in a meadow filtering water from Swan Lake. It sounded so good Terry couldn’t wait to get there. However the brown sludge still had a brown hue after being filtered. Another Hayduker came down the trail and said basically the hike had been hellacious for him. He lost all of his fat and worked for days to regain some. He even took time off in a hotel with the express goal of eating.

About 11:00 our trail popped out near a highway presumably 89A. It seemed hopefully heading directly to Jacob Lake the last town before Utah. We aimed away from the highway into a burned area. We were told a couple of days before that we’d get our best phone service on telephone hill a burn from twenty years ago. For five miles we walked up and down totally devastated hills in the warm open unshaded skies.

Unfortunately the service was unusable. Fortunately there was trail magic. A large food locker with enough water so we could replace the brown water and we won’t need to filter before we reach Jacob Lake tomorrow. We shared a small lemon pie. Terry got coke and we both had enough energy to reach the trees and set up the tent for another windy night.

Out the door by 5:30, we walked the mile to Bright Angel trailhead and charged down, thinking 10 miles of downhill would be a treat. It was steep with water bar posts or slabs on edge about every 5 ft, creating a series of high steps. This is good for trail preservation, but tough on the legs. There were bathrooms at mile 1 1/2, 3, and Indian Garden campground at mile 4 1/2. That is the limit of how far down most day hikers go. And the park service is trying to minimize peeing on the trail. It seems to work. It also helps that a member of the soapberry bush was blooming all along the trail. Smelled so good.

Several mule trains passed us, leaving their little treasures behind. Once they decided to take a break right on the trail, backing up hikers in both directions. Customers sat on their mules while the leader told stories.

Eventually we reached the very green, Colorado river and crossed on a silver suspensión bridge. At Bright Angel campground people lounged along the creek under towering cottonwoods. We envied them, but still had 8 miles of climbing to reach Cottonwood camp. The day wore on, becoming hotter as the sun penetrated deep into the canyon. It was a slow trudge, but eventually we arrived. A twelve hour day full of picture taking and conversing with other hikers. At least 20 hikers were doing the south Kaibab to bright angel loop. That is a good test of gumption! The campsite has a picnic table, backpack hanger, and food storage box. Tomorrow we start the tough climb up to the north rim.

We headed to the backcountry office for our camping permits at Cottonwood Camp on the valley floor for Tuesday and the North Rim Camp on the other side of the Canyon on Wednesday. It turns out we’re sharing the site with Silver Bullet, the women who passed us a couple of days ago.

We read an article on a poster in the office about a women who was the picture of health but was ill-prepared to cross the valley floor and died. The suggestion was that the night before we’re must hydrate and eat twice the calories we normally do. So we had the unenviable task of overeating today. We got right to it.

We were down to two water bottles and we had 15.1 miles to Russell Tank. This would be the first water source in 35 miles. At this point heading up to 7400 elevation and into the pines it didn’t seem like the desert but the lack of water was our constant reminder.

Getting ready to leave from the tent each morning never seems to get easier. This morning I sat in my sleeping bag digging around in my backpack just outside my tent. Terry had noticed a blister on my toe the night before. I needed my first aid kit. Dang what was that? It’s all wet down in the bottom of my pack!

Instead of carrying enough water to make coffee, I bought small cans of Double Shot coffee that had been crushed and leaked. Not only did I have a mess to clean without any towels but also was my precious coffee gone. This is the elixir of energy and good mood. First order of business was to put each can in its own baggie and save what I could.

Slowly things are breaking or mal-functioning. The zipper on my clothing bag broke, both of my chargers were empty so no watch to track time/distance and no phone/camera. The sleeping pad air-tube broke. Gas canister mixture and seal are different causing worrisome problems. The clip that holds my water bottle to my backpack belt broke meaning I can’t reach my water bottle. Terry is now stopping me every 30 minutes, pulling my water bottle from the back pocket and insisting that I drink. This is a good thing. The biggest problem: no Duct Tape!!! This item was in a food bag lost in baggage claim a couple weeks ago. We didn’t know it was missing until we needed it.

In the previous days we had only run into two hikers. On this day less than an hour into the run a speedy woman blew past us, her poles collapsed inside her pack and she in speed walking form. This was Silver Bullet faster than a can of beer. The race is on. I have no race in me after yesterday’s marathon.

The route was harder today with some nasty switchbacks. I was demotivated. Without my watch my pace slowed and without coffee. Ugh! And then we got to Russel tank and the water was bad! Help! One more tank ahead 6 miles. Wildlife Tank. Our last chance.

The tension was mounting. Mango was just leaving Russell tank heading to wildlife tank completely waterless. The scene felt dire. The trail turned rocky, steep and buggy. I was in a low spot tired, sore, crabby. Nearer to the tank 4 hikers and a biker passed us. Would they get the last of the water?

Finally after 22 miles and 12 hours of hiking, clear water for all!

Late yesterday as we approached the bear locker for our cached food, we were talking about the absence of people, cars, houses and human noise for the past 24 hours. How often do we experience this? Just then a hiker was coming down the hill behind us. We had a quiet introduction. He was Stargate from Seattle. He went ahead. He was tall and lean and faster than us. A stranger linked to us by this obsession to keep walking. To get there. He was just ahead of us to the cache. There was plenty of water but he choose to go on for a couple of miles to a murky pond leaving the cached water for others. We set up our tent under a juniper tree.

The tent goes up first and we’re in for our pre diner rest. We heard a car heading down the dirt road. He set up a table. His wife came heading down the trail. She was solo trekking and he was her angel. He had a pizza for her. She came to our tent and offered us pizza. She was Mango. We had seen her name on supplies in the last cache. We had food and needed to eat our supply. Her husband had hiked the trail before and gave us helpful information on how most hikers go down and up the Grand Canyon and get home from the finish. Two days to go rim to rim. And friends pick you up st the finish. We’ll need to solve the 3.5 hour drive back.

Our cache was heavy. Maybe 8 pounds. How would we carry that much plus 12 liters of water? That was our immediate problem. The next morning, I decided we couldn’t take it all, so we stashed it along with our garbage back in the pink cloth bag we had it stored in and left it in the locker to pick up after we retrieve our car.

Before we left for the trail, a friend was questioning me about why I would want to hike 20 miles a day. It’s really hard when the pack needs to be so heavy with water and food. The faster you hike, the fewer the days and the lighter the pack. This pace is essential. There is a huge difference between thru hiking and backpacking.

We’re on the trail by 6:00 at 7:00 we’ve traveled 3 miles. This was a flat trail push for us. At the end of the day, our average with stops and some ups and downs, was 2 mph.

The landscape is just that, not even an antenna on a hill. It’s a beautiful valley that is neatly dotted with deep green bushes and colored by white grasses all the way up the hill, and ever behind us the strong-shouldered snow capped mountain of yesterday. The wind was wild, forcing our heads down, making out breaks cold and miserable. At 5:00, we tucked our tent under a juniper tree and smiled at our well-earned, heavenly rest.

It was cold, 27 outside, and 28 degrees inside the tent. We waited for the sun to warm us. We only had 3.5 miles to reach the town of Tusayan. I had no coffee and only a few peanuts. We moved quickly. Other hikers were descending on the town. And there it was: a Starbucks. We emerged from the trailhead looking like Pigpen with a cloud of dust surrounding us. Everything about us was dirt. Yet we lingered on the love seat with coffee and pastries for about an hour. Hot coffee and warm pastry and a seat to sit on. Holy cow!

We moved quickly to the Grand Canyon Visitor Center 7 miles from Tusayan on a asphalt trail fast, but hard on the legs. The visitor’s center was closed. So we checked into the Yavapai Lodge and began our long list of chores. Showers and laundry were over too late to stand in line for dinner, but pasta salad from the deli seemed like a treat.

We camped near the water tank on a large flat field dotted with hemlock trees. At least 7 other hikers were across the field out of sight. By the time we were packed and leaving, at the late hour of 8:00, all the others were gone. We were only 20 miles from Tusayan and 26 from the Grand Canyon Village. The others were heading into town. But we had a room booked for Sunday and Monday, so we didn’t want to be there until tomorrow. So we would only hike 16 miles today. It was a leisurely morning. It felt super, but we didn’t have much food left.

From the dregs we had cracker and cookie crumbs and pieces of nuts outweighed by spices from spicy cashews. Our breaks could be long enough to rifle through our bags and pockets. Luckily we had two dehydrated meals left and plenty of time for breaks. We won’t starve.

About two miles into the day we had our first glimpse of the Grand Canyon. Four miles in, the helicopters started flying overhead. Every 15 minutes it seemed. Low and loud. We passed the trail junction for Grand View which meant campers were out on the trail. The solitude was over.

For our first stop. I mixed cracker crumbs, mustard, olives, and spicy cashews in a baggie and ate it with a spoon. It was really tasty. We had time to linger over the fine concoction. Terry ate GORP, his supply seemingly endless.

The second morning break, I was was ready to finish off my GORP sitting on the dirt berm at trail’s edge when this Mukluk-of-a-dog comes around the corner. His tall white image reminding us of our dog gone for eight years now. And then what should appear at his heels? The cutest ten-week-old husky. By the time their owners appeared, their dogs were both in our laps. The 100 pound malamute shepherd mix had me on my back giving me love. The couple, mid-thirties, away from their home in Phoenix for the weekend, really wanted to talk! After puppy got into my small bag of GORP, he scattered it on the ground. I will admit he was neatly just sniffing about and gently eating what was handy. But our GORP contained M&Ms. So I was ranging around in the dirt trying to eat the M&Ms so the dog wouldn’t. I was also putting the nuts back in the bag to have a snack for tomorrow. All the while the woman was telling me her history. How she met her husband, and about all the places they’ve lived.

We had time to identify a Western Tanager and Grace’s Warbler. Terry discovered the carrot desert parsley plant. We had time to walk shoulder to shoulder and talk. Terry even tried out his umbrella for the first time.

Camped at 8600 ft we were expecting a frosty morning. But the winds blew all night and morning arrived at 40 degrees! Yahoo! A long descent on a smooth trail in the shade of conifers is the stuff of hiking dreams. We left the towering groves of aspen, trading them for pinion and junipers and a few cacti. Flycatchers and pinion jays flitted between them. A helicopter broke the stillness, circling back and forth, searching for what?

Small herds of deer remained warily distant. Mountain lion tracks and scat began to decorate the trail. We were hoping to spot an elk herd, but saw only tracks, along with footprints of hikers moving in front of us. The sun was blazing, so we tried to deploy the umbrella on Deb’s pack, but the wind was too gusty. Maybe tomorrow.

Because tomorrow, we start a 35 mile section with no water, we stashed water at this site several days ago. We will need to carry about 2 1/2 gallons to last 2 days. Water is so heavy! There are occasional water caches put out for hikers by locals or even other hikers, but the upcoming stretch is too remote.

Our Uber driver didn’t want to drive down the dirt road, but we only had a mile to walk to the trail. Again we were climbing a mountain this time around the ski area of Flagstaff. We reached 9,000 on a 10 mile ascent. We were high enough for mountain winds cooled by patches of snow.

We were in the land of vanilla scented Jeffrey pines, Clark’s Nutcrackers, Loggerhead Shrikes and Rose Breasted Grosbeaks. Mountain Golden Beans, Creeping Mahonia and Mule’s ear hug the trail. The Aspen are huge and gorgeous with small leaves budding in their crowns. Colorado bristle cone hunkered low. The wind gusts and calls to us all day. Below the valley is long and quiet rimmed by the San Francisco Peaks.

Several local hikers and runners were heading back. We didn’t see any other AZT hikers. We were still in the trees when we had to call it quits. The temperature was dropping and the sun went behind the trees. We had been scanning for a flat area for two miles. It wasn’t perfect, but OK. We had ended a 16 mile day, and were sore everywhere.

Sunday morning at 6:00 am we pulled out of our driveway heading east for Flagstaff. It’s an 11 hour jaunt. Aren’t we all happy plastered behind the wheel? Cramping here and there. Stuck in the middle of mountain and desert, trailer homes and dunes.

My friend Katherine loves a road trip. She makes good sandwiches and good conversations. This is how she catches up with family and friends flying down the highway in clever conversation, no mention of pain. At the start of the century, she and I drove from CA to CA. California to Faro Yukon Canada. The ultimate road trip and the miles flew by.

Back in AZ, we arrive and settle in our room by 6 pm. We have plenty of time to get a meal, but decide trail mix is easier. An early rehearsal for what lies ahead. We’re here to hike the last 200 miles of the AZT.

On Monday we drive our resupply bag to a bear locker located 38 miles up highway 180 and four miles into a dirt road to a trailhead. The locker was hidden behind a juniper bush. Two hikers sat out of sight enjoying canned lemonade left by a trail angel. We recognized the female from Mt. Lemon.

Next we drove up to Yavapai Lodge in the Grand Canyon to leave a resupply box. This is the food that will fuel us down the South rim of the Grand Canyon, across the Grand Canyon and up the north rim hiking on to Lake Jacob. We will stay at the lodge on May 1st or 2nd. We reserved both nights being unsure of our speed. We’ll cancel one of the rooms.

We were going to drive to the trail’s finish at the Utah border, but turned at highway 89 because of driving fatigue heading back to Flagstaff. This is the highway that was closed, owing to the Tunnel fire. It’s open now and we saw little evidence of the disaster.

We leave our car at the motel in Flagstaff Tuesday and resume our hike. Clear weather, 34 degrees. Stay turned.