AZT Mile 727.2 tentsite, May 27.

AZT Mile 727.7 tentsite, Sunday, May 27. Walked 15.3 miles from 712.4 at North Rim to this rest stop. Lots of ups and downs with several high points around 9100 ft - trailhead was about 8200. 

Dancing leaves

Dear Trail Friends,

Here I am at my first rest stop on the Arizona Trail north of the Grand Canyon north rim. Very soon after I got on this trail (I began walking just before 6am, after taking a 5:30 shuttle with 6 other hikers - all setting out for a rim to rim dayhike - from Kaibab Lodge) I could feel my whole being, body and soul, breathe deeply, sigh deeply, feel a sense of home. The Grand Canyon is spectacular, but my deepest happiness unquestionably comes from this quiet solitude in the company of trees, earth, birdsong, light, and the trail itself - dirt, rocks, pine needles. So photo 1 is a collage of just a few of my moments of feeling grateful and at home. 

I spent much of the morning alternating between the counting/planning game I love (counting miles and minutes, estimating where I will arrive when, planning where and when I might make my rest stops and stop for the night, feeling proud when I beat my estimates in one way and when I don’t meet them proud in another way,repeating a line from a song my friend Michelle Gabow composed in the 70s “I’m in no hurry, let’s take our time. I want to be with you, and not make you mine.” That song was about lovemaking for me then - and I guess it still is, because walking the trail is for sure a kind of lovemaking) - this is one of those sentences you are going to need a gps app to keep from getting lost on - alternating between the counting game and reflections on this peace and contentment. I realize that I do feel it sometimes if more rarely when I am with people. It’s just that I am more engaged and less reflective so less aware of it. 

So here I am in the arms of my beloved solitude practicing social skills: bring into consciousness moments of quiet contentment in the presence of others. I thought of being with Caroline and John when they died. Those were moments of presence and deep peace. As were my moments with our loved Samoyeds Nikki and Misty when they were dying but they don’t really count because I’ve always felt at ease with animals. It’s human beings that I associate with lack of ease. But there have been many moments: doing therapy, both as therapist and client, moments of deep attunement and acceptance. Doing contemplative drawing with my sister Judy. Sharing the daily sacraments of domestic life with Chris: meals, the animals, walks, reading quietly together, snuggling in the middle of the night. Dancing with my long ago girlfriend Karen Merry - she was a strong leader and I would just relax utterly in her arms, trusting totally in her and in the moment. I think that may be the key. Giving up the need to control. Trusting. I have a hard time trusting when in the presence of human beings. Practicing social skills is about learning to trust. I guess that means both minimizing risks and accepting the risks cause they are worth it. Just like on the trail. 

Photo 2 is my view from this rest stop. I am surrounded by thousands of aspen leaves - and talk about trusting - the way these leaves dangle in the breeze and just let themselves be lifted and twirled, and the way the sun shines on them. I do not know what kind of beings trees are but I feel their presence and I want to say to them “Thank you for sharing your joy of life with me.” That’s what those thousands of shining dancing leaves feel like to me, pure joy of life. Like a dog that quivers and wriggles all over, her whole body telling you that she’s so glad to see you. That’s what those leaves seem to be telling the sun. 

Well I just spent way longer at this rest spot than I intended - so in the counting/planning game it’s time to sing “I’m in no hurry.” And I do kind of hope my trail buddy Barry who seems to hike slower than I do will catch me. Otherwise I probably will get ahead and not see him again. 

Which reminds me. I was feeling sad about going to Kaibab Lodge the extra expense the inconvenience no WiFi blah blah blah. But I’ve got to tell you I had the greatest rest day. It was peaceful to sit in my room and gaze out at the big empty meadow and trees. It felt great to sit reading in bed, to sew up the tears in my silk liner, to drink cup after cup of hot water (soothing as I imagined my upset innards), having a toilet a step away so I hardly noticed the frequency of the poop emergencies. And when I went to dinner and was totally surprised at how comforting and delicious I found the home style cooking - a delicious soup, chicken cooked unbelievably moist, a spinach gratin I’d love the recipe for, baked potato with both butter and sour cream and a glass of kilt lifter Scottish ale. I slept like a baby. It really is good for me to sleep in a bed once a week or so. 

Okay. Enough for now. Let’s get back on the trail. 

But wait - I am back in tree country. I couldn’t leave without five minutes in my inverted pose - and I know you’ve gone ages waiting for another inverted pose picture (photo 3). 

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Now I am at my second rest stop. Per the counting/planning game, I have walked 10 miles so far today  (from 712.3 at the North Rim to 722.7 where I am now). I am less giddy with joy, partly because I have been watching some ominous gray clouds and wondering whether the rain that they carry will fall on the trail or further to the east (guess which I’m rooting for...). Photo 4 show the clouds shortly after I left my first rest stop. Photo 5 shows them from this rest stop. I notice they look less grim each time the sun peeks out but it does that seldom. 

I sat down for this second rest stop and unpacked my food bag and reached in for the Talenti jar I use to rehydrate my food ( as most of you know, I hike stove-free and eat my food at ambient temperature, whatever that might be), only to find it empty! I felt so clever making my morning drink (a mixture of Vega chocolate protein drink and instant espresso coffee) using hot water from the coffee machine in my room at the lodge and not even getting my jar dirty. But - oops - I forgot to load the jar with my next meal. So I eat another protein bar and some hard Parmesan cheese (same as at my earlier rest stop.) what’s done can’t be undone, as in the story - though for me it’s more often that what was left undone cannot be made done. Of course I could do it know - but it won’t be “cooked” til I get to my next rest stop. One of the things I love about going stovefree is the feeling that someone has cooked for me. I pull out the jar and my meal is ready. I feel nurtured and taken care of. 

About a mile ahead is a lookout tower. Some hikers reported getting a bit of cell service on the highest step (as well as a great view). I was quite hopeful, as elevation climbed from around 8200 at the rim to around 9100, that we would get high enough to catch cell service. In one place I got a tantalizing signal but it blinked off and I could not get it again. Now if there is service, I will want to send this blog out. So I think I will end here. 

     *     *     *

Except that, as ot turned out, there was absolutely no cell coverage at the top of the tower. Nor did I find the view that interesting. In fact I found the view north (with what looked to me like falling rain much more interesting than the view of the canyon which at least to my eyes was too distant to appreciate). Photo 6 is the tower (with its 94 steps) and the view to the north. 

I spent much of the next part of the walk watching the sky and hoping it wouldn’t rain. At my third rest stop I was very glad to find water, though disturbed to discover my water filter was damaged. I could tell because the water flowed through it too quickly. I added some water purifying pills - it will not taste good, but it will be safe - and realized I should never have put my water filter in my backpack when I checked it.  Probably the temperature dropped below freezing, which is a sure way to ruin a water filter (I always keep it next to me in my sleeping bag on cold nights). 

When I left the water stop I was amazed to find the gray clouds had vanished. I don’t know where they went. All day they had hovered in front of me to the north and - where were they?  I was glad though especially to have more time to get to know my tent (I had it - what is the word? - re-worked so its a freestanding tent. I like how much easier it is to put it up (pounding the stakes into hard ground can be tough after a long day ) but hadn’t gotten it adjusted well enough that I would trust it in rain. I played around with it tonight and although it is not perfect I think it will do.

I’m very tired. I think I should wish you good night. But one more thing. I was rubbing my pain cream and aloe Vera gel into my feet which were a little sore today. And I noticed the cushions on the heel and metatarsal area were not as flat as before. They looked just a little bit plump and cushion-like. I thought “they are regenerating. This is a miracle. I can’t wait to show them to the podiatrist.” And then I realized that most likely they were not regenerating, most likely they were swollen.  The beginning of what happened to them on the Oregon coast trip last summer, that ended up taking me off the trail. 

I am hoping that rest, aloe and pain cream - both of which are anti-inflammatory, and not pushing for long days will allow them to settle down. But I feel oddly calm about the possibility that I would have to stop walking. I think this pilgrimage - all this about emerging from darkness into light, and the story of the stars falling into the sky and “what’s done cannot be undone” - and maybe too the novel I’ve been reading Lincoln in the Bardo (about Lincoln and the death of his young son, but also about the souls of the dead who cannot let go, who refuse to move on, who linger and resist accepting the fact of their death - all of these things I think are helping me - and maybe the “training” in social skills as well - to relinquish this great passion if and when it becomes necessary to do so. But I hope it will not!

The good news - the poop report - I got through the whole day with only two poops (the first at the lodge and the last at walking distance from my campsite). I hope this means my innards are settling down. Perhaps the upset is in part a response to sudden changes in elevation. I did after all go from 4000 ft to 8200 in one day. Another good thing about sleeping last night at the lodge is that it was at 8800 feet. I hadn’t realized it but the hike today went up to 9100 ft - up and down - several times. So today was less of an adjustment elevation-wise than it would have been if I’d slept at the campsite at the north rim. 

Good night. Sweet dreams. May we all find healing and comfort in our sleep. 

See you on the trail!