Day 1, Northern Terminus to Old Arizona Road

Shortly after I began walking south, I passed a picnic shelter where two men were resting in the shade. They told me they had just completed their hike. One had the trail name Big Dog, and said he started hiking north from the Mexican border last spring before getting off the trail in Flagstaff.

Big Dog convinced his friend to help him finish the trail going north from Flagstaff this fall. Now they were waiting for a ride to pick them up.

Almost right away, the trail began to climb a slope to the Kaibab Plateau. I had not anticipated so much climbing so soon. During my hike planning, I looked at the map but didn't pay much attention to the elevation changes. I didn't realize until now that the trail would climb 1,200 feet in the first three miles.

This was open, erosional terrain, an arid desert with sparse plantlife, and I expected that. After passing through a grove of short and twisted Utah juniper trees, the landscape shifted to sagebrush and broom snakeweed.

Small, yellow flowers densely covered the broom snakeweed plants. The abundance of flowers this time of year provides a much-needed source of nectar for pollinators like butterflies and moths. The insects use this native plant to survive harsh winter conditions or for fuel in their migration.

On the climb, I also began to see small thickets of cholla (pronounced "choy-ah"), a hardy cactus that survives extreme climates. Some varieties have yellow or red flowers.

I knew to stay away from this cactus because there were many of them on the CDT in New Mexico. I remembered it has many sharp spines that can latch onto your skin.

I'm sure the exertion of climbing to the plateau contributed to this, but I was feeling the effects of the heat. I had only been on the trail for an hour, and already the temperature was pushing into the 90s. My trekking poles and sun umbrella were stowed in my pack when I started hiking, but now I needed them.

Until I stopped and looked back in the direction I had come, I hadn't noticed a steep, eroded ridge nearby. The soil was a darker red than the surrounding sandstone, indicating it was rich in hematite (red iron oxide).

This ridge was part of a geologic formation called the Vermilion Cliffs, which are known as the second "step" up in the Grand Staircase's five steps of the Colorado Plateau.

As the climb continued, the slope transitioned to mostly bunchgrass. Dotting the slope were the blackened skeletons of burnt juniper trees. The Pine Hollow Fire, which happened in 2020 after a lightning strike, burned more than 11,000 acres in this area.

The grasses have come back from that destructive fire, but it will take decades, perhaps a century or more, before trees grow here again.

Besides grasses and a few cacti, desert globemallow was growing on the ridge. It is one of the most drought-tolerant species and has some of the largest flowers found in the desert.

Desert globemallow grows rapidly in the spring, then dies off in the fall and drops seeds. They germinate in the winter to restart a growth cycle.

The trail left the burn area near the top of the three-mile climb. This was the start of the Kaibab Plateau and the western end of North Larkum Canyon. There were trees here, mostly juniper and pinion.

And I saw more wildflowers, including bright red skyrocket, also known as scarlet gilia. I remembered seeing this variety in Northern California when I hiked the Pacific Crest Trail.

Skyrocket plants are generally short-lived, but they can live into fall when weather conditions are favorable.

I arrived at a wildlife tank, the first water source of the day, at 2:20 p.m.

It's worth taking a moment to explain that in the desert, the word "tank" is used for any method of holding water for livestock or wildlife. Tanks can be a large metal container, a shallow pond, or even a tractor tire. And often, these are the only water sources available for hikers.

In this case, the tank was a small, concrete pool fed with rainwater collected from a nearby metal roof and stored below it.

This tank was intended only for wildlife. A barbed-wire fence surrounded it to keep out livestock. The feeder's small size and concrete sides made it easy for me to scoop water, which was green and cloudy with algae.

Out here, you can't be picky about your water sources. The next one may be 10 or 20 miles away. In this case, I was fortunate because the next one was just 6.5 miles away.

As I scooped and filtered water, several pinyon jays began to gather in nearby trees. The bluish-grey birds watched and waited impatiently for me to leave.

Pinyon jays travel together in large flocks, and as the number of jays in the trees increased, they began squawking loudly. They told me in no uncertain terms that they didn't want me near their water.

They made me feel guilty for being there, but I had no choice. Now numbering at least three dozen, the birds made their way down to the tank as soon as I left the fenced area.

I met two hikers in this section, but only talked to them briefly. One was a day hiker, and I'm not sure where he came from because the area was extremely remote with only rugged ranch roads.

The climbing didn't stop, but now it wasn't nearly as steep as the first three miles. The trail gained another 300 feet in the next 3.5 miles.

I looked to the northeast through an opening between trees, back toward the trailhead. Barely visible because it was nearly 70 miles away, a large mountain loomed high on the horizon. It was Navajo Mountain (10,348 feet), rising more than 4,200 feet above the desert floor in Utah.

The mountain is sacred ground to the Navajo people. Climbing it is prohibited.

Though the temperature remained hot, the trail was now flat enough that I should have been able to cruise at a faster pace. I had to make frequent stops, however, because I was tiring quickly.

The gravel under my feet crunched loudly with each step. The trail occasionally crossed an old ranch road. At other times, it crossed or followed a livestock path. I never had a reason to doubt or worry that I might miss a turn. The trail was obvious.

Getting to the water required making a turn at Old Arizona Road and following it about a half-mile to another dusty dirt ranching road. The last one led past a cow tank to a large, buried water pipe. I passed several cows along the way.

According to comments posted in the FarOut guide, the pipe had several access lids, but just one could be opened to reach the water. A cow eyed me suspiciously while I looked for the correct one, but at least it didn't complain like the pinyon jays.

I discovered someone had helpfully written "H2O" on the lid with access to the water. This water was much clearer than what I collected from the wildlife tank, but it still needed to be filtered. There were far too many cows to risk not doing that.

After collecting enough water for tonight's dinner plus the start of tomorrow, I headed back to Old Arizona Road. I remembered seeing a couple of potential campsites there.

The best site was less than 2/10 of a mile from the trail. I had just arrived there when a hiker stopped by and asked about the water. I explained where to find it, and he left. I expected to see him again when he came back, but I never did.

We were both using headlamps then because the sun had already set. I finished setting up for cowboy camping (sleeping under the stars) and then cooked my dinner.

Today was more strenuous than I thought it would be. The long climb at the start didn't help, but I think the heat was what made me exhausted.

Feeling worn out at the end of the first day isn't unusual, but this time it was a reason for concern. Tomorrow will be a much longer day. I will need to walk 17 miles to reach Jacob Lake. I have a reservation for a motel room.

I don't usually feel a motel stay is necessary at the start of a hike, and I debated making the reservation. Now I knew I would appreciate it tomorrow.

The border of Mexico was now 790 miles away, but I didn't think about that. I was much too tired to think about anything.