Day 44 | May 4, 2022
19 Miles

While having breakfast at the diner counter the next morning, we noticed another couple sitting beside us who weren't hikers. They had serious expressions and distinct tattoos that identified them as members of the far-right anti-government militia group known as 3%ers, who staunchly defend the Second Amendment. Our group, made up of far-left socialists who value nature, equality, and non-violence, felt uneasy in their presence. At first I didn’t think it was a big deal and continued to read aloud the headlines which were, and almost always are, political and controversial in nature. 

I was sitting next to Almost Famous who has had first hand experience documenting a political insurrection and the sudden change in his demeanor made me realize the gravity of the situation. It was clear that any mention of politics or controversial topics could lead to a stressful or even dangerous confrontation with the 3%ers. There was an uncomfortable silence that settled over the breakfast counter. 

This experience was a stark reminder that even in peaceful settings like the hiking trail, ideological differences and societal issues can create tense situations. It was sobering to realize that our privileged bubble had shielded us from the harsh realities of the world, and we needed to be more aware and mindful of the potential risks and conflicts that could arise.

It can be challenging to reconcile the idyllic experience of being on the trail with the harsh realities of the world outside.

We were also confronted with the uncomfortable truth that our ability to disconnect temporarily from the world's problems was a luxury not afforded to everyone. Issues like the pandemic, political turmoil, racism, sexism, and discrimination were still rampant and impacting people's lives in significant ways and as privileged individuals, it is our responsibility to stay informed, engaged, and actively work towards positive change both on and off the trail. 

(If you are interested in learning more about the ways humans have impacted the landscape in America, including the areas we love to recreate within, I highly recommend two books: 1. This Land: How Cowboys, Capitalism, and Corruption are Ruining the American West by Christopher Ketchum. 2. Leave It As It Is: A Journey Through Theodore Roosevelt's American Wilderness by David Gessner. These thought-provoking books shed light on the challenges we face in preserving our natural landscapes and highlight some interesting facts about what it means to conserve a landscape.)

After breakfast, we made our way to the picnic tables outside the motel, where we lingered for a while. The end of our journey was approaching, and as we sat there, we couldn't help but feel a sense of melancholy slowly creeping in.

No one seemed to be rushing to get back on trail that day, though we finally did. 

We followed the AZT for several miles until reaching an expected trail closure where we hopped on the Great Western Trail as our alternate.

Most of the hike was on wide dirt roads, so we were able to spread out and sometimes walk side by side.

Along the way, Treebeard found an intriguing collection of discarded items and car parts that he picked up off the trail and hung from his backpack, earning him the unofficial trail name "Cactus O'Reilly" (in reference to O'Reilly's Auto Parts).

We found a flat camp spot just off of Winter Road, nestled amongst juniper trees. It had enough room for us all to camp together, marking our last night together on the trail. It felt like a slumber party as we slept shoulder to shoulder and head to head in two rows, gazing up at the stars while listening to some bad country music, chatting and laughing.

Space Case and Tailgate arrived last with purple lips and an empty Sawyer bag that once contained wine. Tailgate, a bit unsteady, insisted on doing her own mini compliment circle before settling down in her space. She remained on brand, using words that were raw, honest, loving, and mostly directed at Silver Bullet.  

We stayed up much later than usual, not wanting the night to end. Over the past couple of weeks, we had all become incredibly close, and I couldn't imagine what this experience would have been like if I had insisted on hiking solo. It's surprising how often going into the woods alone ends up becoming the cure for loneliness. Even though I had spent plenty of time hiking and camping by myself over the past month, I never felt lonely. This was not the same group that I resisted joining a month earlier back in Patagonia; this was my trail family.

Day 45 | May 5, 2022
14.4 Miles

It was a bittersweet morning as we awoke for our last day on the trail.

There was still half a day of hiking left, but nobody seemed to be in any hurry.

Back in the high-desert small cacti, colorful shrubs, and scraggly piñon and juniper trees surrounded me as I followed the winding singletrack trail. The trail rolled in and out of washes, crossed dirt roads, and descended into a gentle valley. 

As we walked, a quiet introspection settled over the group. Communication was mostly through shared glances and nods, as if we had reached a level of understanding that didn't need words to express it. We all knew that this was the last time we would be on this journey together, and the weight of that realization seemed to hang in the air.

While ascending North Larkum Canyon, the beauty of our surroundings and the intensity of our emotional states grew in tandem, culminating at the top of a breathtaking ridge.

From this high point our view suddenly expanded beyond the boundaries of the Arizona National Scenic Trail, revealing awe-inspiring panoramas featuring Utah’s pink mountains and unique rock formations to the north, as well as the swirling, psychedelic sandstone of the Vermilion Cliffs to the east.

In front of us, we could see the final leg of our more than 800-mile journey. The remaining two miles wound down the hillside, weaving back and forth along switchbacks lined with vibrant wildflowers all the way to Stateline Campground, where the northern terminus and finish line awaited. We could see each other going down, separated by switchbacks, at different points, but all on the same path.     

Whether you were in front or behind didn’t matter. Each of us walked at our own pace, lost in our individual thoughts and journeys, but the trail beneath our feet served as a tangible reminder that this experience had been shared. There was a sense of camaraderie, a feeling of unity knowing that we were all headed in the same direction, towards a common goal. We walked alone, yet together.

At  the end of the switchbacks I continued northeast over a sagebrush-covered valley to a low, rocky ridge where the trail descended to the Arizona/Utah border.

Friends that were ahead of me cheered and took photos as I approached and then I joined them in celebrating the rest of our crew. 

As I stood at the border, realizing that the AZT had officially ended, I felt a mixture of emotions. I was proud, happy, sad, anxious, excited, and most of all, very hungry!

Thanks to the help of the Arizona Trail Association and local trail angels, my car was waiting for me at the campground, allowing me to change into fresh clothes and bring out some extra snacks to share.

Once everyone had arrived, we took a group photo and discussed our next steps.

The northern terminus of the AZT, near Buckskin Gulch, also serves as one of the trailheads for the Hayduke Route, a 812-mile backpacking route spanning southern Utah and northern Arizona. Being there felt like a tease. The vibrant canyons and warm desert air were irresistible, making it hard to deny my urge to keep hiking. The breathtaking landscape evoked a sense of longing and an insatiable desire to explore further. The end of this hike marks the beginning of a new adventure, and I can’t wait for the day I return.

Lifting my gaze from the enchanting scenery, I noticed my friends patiently awaiting an invitation to join me in the car for a ride out of the campground. With a smile, I unlocked the doors, and we all eagerly piled in.

EPILOGUE 

We said goodbye to Silver Bullet and Daddy at the campground and then drove to Buckskin Gulch for a little hike.

After that, we said goodbye to Sweet Shop, who had a planned trip with his family.

There were only five of us left, and we had to decide what to do next. Treebeard persisted in suggesting that we celebrate our accomplishment by spending a few days in Las Vegas before parting ways, while I vehemently opposed the idea of leaving the tranquility of nature for the chaos of Sin City.

Nevertheless, certain factors started to emerge that made Treebeard's plan seem more logical. My car made me a valuable asset, Las Vegas was on my way home, and since some of our group members were flying out from there, it did seem like a good opportunity to spend more time together.

As I stood at this impasse, I realized two things. First, Treebeard's unwavering commitment to executing any idea or plan he feels passionate about made opposing him futile. And, second, as the reality of saying goodbye to the trail family I had come to love drew nearer, the desire to find a way to extend our time together, even if it meant embracing Las Vegas, started to seem more appealing than ending our adventure.

And so, off we went—VEGAS BABY!

May 6TH, 2022
LAS VEGAS

We crammed ourselves into one hotel room, embracing our true hiker fashion, and spent the day exploring the city as tourists.

We went from a Michelin star restaurant, directly to a dance party at Taco Bell Cantina. (“It’s actually a Mishler star restaurant” - Tailgate)

We walked around the city some more and then retreated back to the hotel.

May 7th, 2022

We had an emotional morning saying goodbye to Tailgate, Treebeard, and Almost Famous. In addition to welcoming a surprise visit from my friend John, who had just completed his own remarkable 300-mile loop in Death Valley (which you can read about in his book, Death Valley Loop).

We unashamedly returned to Taco Bell Cantina.

Then, we wandered around the city a little more, sampled more food, and finally headed back into nature.

We went trail running in Red Rock Canyon.

And ended the day with a picnic and camping at a site off Lovell Canyon Road.

May 8th, 2022

We cleaned up our campsite and then dropped John off at the airport.

We were on the home stretch, Space Case and I. As we headed to California, we enjoyed a pleasant road trip filled with music, reminiscing about the past month and a half, and eagerly sharing ideas for future hiking adventures.

I dropped Space Case off at a bus station in Los Angeles, and he headed back home to San Diego. After saying our goodbyes, I made my way back home, relieved that everything went smoothly. I was excited to be reunited with Cosmo and the cats and looked forward to a comfortable night in my bed. Little did I know, life had a different plan in store. As luck would have it, Cosmo had COVID-19, and I found myself chuckling at the irony of returning home only to be back to sleeping on the ground.

But at that moment, laying on a makeshift bed on the floor in my living room surrounded by the purrs of my furry companions, I realized that adventure is not always about grand expeditions or exotic destinations—it's about embracing the unexpected twists and turns, going with the flow, and finding joy even in the most unconventional circumstances.