Day 11, Babbitt Ranch Passage to F.S. Road 417

Trying to find my glasses in the dark seemed futile, so I stowed everything that could be dragged away and went back to sleep. If the rat came back a third time, I never heard it.

When I awoke at sunrise, I attempted a more thorough search, but again without luck.

Because I learned yesterday from Kim that my election ballot was ready to be mailed to me, I paused my search to find the address of Flagstaff’s post office. Then I called her to break the news about the theft of my eyeglasses. I asked her to send my backup pair when she mailed the ballot. She promised to put both in the mail this morning.

When I started to pack, I made one more search of my gear, but my glasses were still missing.

A pack rat’s nest is called a midden. It's built with sticks and other desert debris. Inside, the rat stores food, bones, shells, seeds, and human objects, anything it can find and drag back to the nest.

In one final, desperate attempt to find my glasses, I discovered two possible pack rat middens at the base of juniper trees. I attempted to dig into them, but they were thick with sticks and other debris. When I poked and clawed at the piles, I didn’t hear any noises inside that might come from a resident rat.

The rat that stole my glasses may have fled farther than I thought. Pack rats have excellent spatial memory and can return to a midden without following a scent. Their middens expand over time and are so solidly built that they last long enough for archaeologists to study them.

There's an ironic twist to this story. When I saw the rat dragging the pouch with my sunglasses and other small stuff, I should have ignored the rat and let it take the pouch to its midden. I didn't remember until later that an Apple AirTag was also in the pouch. I could have used that to track the midden's location.

Finally, I decided it was time to give up finding my glasses and move on. I began walking at 7:30 a.m.

Thankfully, my eyesight isn’t exceptionally poor when I'm not wearing glasses. I had no trouble following the trail.

I was so preoccupied about losing my glasses, however, that I walked about 100 feet from the campsite before realizing I left my trekking poles behind.

The morning sky was hazy with smoke that lingered from yesterday’s burn. It was so thick when I first woke up that I couldn’t see Humphreys Peak, but it was faintly visible by the time I started walking.

After about 90 minutes, I passed a number “150" created by a hiker with elk poop. Was it really 150 miles ago that I left the Utah border? I checked the FarOut app to confirm.

Four miles into the day, I arrived at a side trail leading to a wildlife waterer. This was the water source I intended to reach by the end of the day yesterday, until the prescribed burn altered my plan.

I had forgotten until now that the waterer was more than a half-mile off the trail. When I arrived, birds appeared to stand guard over the tank. They weren't happy I was there to take some of their water, but I had no choice.

The water was in a small concrete trough and was neon green. Bird feathers and bugs were floating in it. Still, it was the only water for more than 15 miles. It was cold and filtered reasonably clear, and that's all I cared about at the moment.

Continuing south, the terrain became flatter and more treeless. It reminded me of the CDT in Wyoming and New Mexico, where I could walk all day without seeing a tree.

The first break in the barren landscape was Chapel Mountain, which seemed to rise out of nowhere. The top of this ancient volcanic cinder cone stood 6,663 feet above the desert floor.

The trail went around it and between some smaller volcanic knobs.

For the whole distance I walked today, the elevation only varied by about 600 feet. I was glad to have Chapel Mountain to break up the otherwise flat terrain. 

There was also Humphreys Peak to look at, which was still far in the distance. Without trees or hills to get in the way, it was almost always in view.

Back on the trail, I saw a jackrabbit race across the open desert. For a moment, I thought it was two jackrabbits running together until I remembered I wasn't wearing my glasses.

Later, I was startled when a man came out from behind a tree. He was the only hiker I saw today. He told me his trail name was Texas, and he was walking from Flagstaff to the north rim. 

Late in the day, I discovered another wildlife waterer was off the trail. This one wasn’t marked in the app in the usual way, however. I only learned about it by reading through several comments in the app.

Staying mindful to never pass up a chance to get water, I turned to follow the road leading to the waterer. I became impatient, though, because the waterer seemed to be farther than described in the app.

I gave up and turned around, deciding I was still carrying enough unfiltered water to last until tomorrow morning. I knew I'd reach a reliable source that was easier to find.

Babbitt Lake was next when I got back to the trail. FarOut comments warned there was no water there, which is why I didn't wait to go there. The comments were accurate. The lake was just a hole in the ground.

The trail turned just beyond the so-called lake and followed a surprisingly wide gravel road. It was a well-maintained Forest Service road. 

More than one car passed me as I walked down the road. I followed it for less than a half-mile before spotting a site tucked behind short juniper trees. It looked good for setting up camp. Several volcanic rocks were scattered around the area, but there was enough room for cowboy camping.

You better believe I had everything stashed or lashed down before going to bed. I wasn't about to risk a repeat incident with a pack rat.