Day 12, F.S. Road 417 to near Walker Lake Peak

I left my campsite at 7:15 a.m., a little later than I prefer. Starting out, the trail continued on Forest Service Road 417. Along the way, I passed a few pullouts used for dispersed camping by people with RVs.

I’m unsure what the appeal was to camp there, except perhaps during hunting season. It was not the most scenic spot in Northern Arizona.

I arrived at Cedar Ranch Trailhead in under an hour, where I found a large cache of water in a metal bear box. Several gallon jugs of water had been stashed there by trail angels. 

The trailhead was a curious spot for a water cache because a reliable spring was less than a mile away, but that’s not a complaint. I was glad to have water that didn’t require filtering.

After refilling my water bottles, I found some shade to sit and eat breakfast.

It was nearly an hour before I began hiking again. The character of the road was much different as soon as I left. Instead of a wide, maintained gravel road, it was now a bumpy double track.

I hadn’t walked far before two hikers approached. One stopped to warn me about some cattle up ahead. It’s not unusual to see cattle on a trail like this, but his warning seemed slightly odd.

The hiker went on to explain that one bull was particularly menacing. He suggested I try to dodge the bull until it got tired, and that seemed silly.
 
“Have you run into a problem with bulls or other animals before?” I asked. 

“Oh, yes,” he answered earnestly, and said he was carrying a bear canister and bear spray for protection. Was he referring to protection from bears or livestock? I didn't ask.

Coming across a bear in these desolate flats would have been shocking. There was no place for a large animal to hide, and even less to eat among the scrub. Presumably, the hiker was thinking bears might live in the San Francisco Peaks, where there are taller trees and abundant wildlife.

When I reached the area the hiker warned me about, I spotted the herd. There was no sign of an angry bull. The steers remained grazing far from the road, indifferent to my presence.

Later, I passed two more hikers, Stoked and Tumbles. They told me they were section hiking the Arizona Trail. Tumbles said when he saw me approach, he knew I was a thru-hiker by looking at my legs.

I took a couple of long breaks. The first was right after the trail had climbed to another flat area. There were more trees and a little breeze, which I appreciated. There was also some shade available when I took a one-hour break for lunch. 

When I could see Humphreys Peak, I noticed it had a two-toned coloration, but didn't understand why. At first, I wondered if the lower half had fewer trees because parts of the mountain had been clearcut.

Moving closer to Humphreys Peak, a better look at it helped me figure out what I was seeing. The slope's band of gold was aspen trees in peak autumn colors. 

The trail climbed gradually toward the mountain, though I knew I couldn't have to summit it. The trail would skirt around its west slope.

As I continued, junipers along the trail gave way to Ponderosa pines. Before long, the trail transitioned to a single-track footpath with a road along the left side.

No more hikers passed me until I met a young woman hiking with her dog. She told me her name was Madison, and she lived in Prescott, Arizona.  She was hiking a section of the AZT. 

I could tell she was new to backpacking because several items were dangling from her pack. That’s a good tip-off because experienced hikers know hanging gear from your pack doesn't work well. The stuff can snag on trees, and it will bounce and rattle as you walk.

When I told her my name was Gravity, she said, “Oh, I don't have a trail name yet.”

It was only later that I thought of a trail name for her, but it was too late to offer it to her. Her trail name could be “Christmas Tree” because so many pieces of gear were hanging from her pack.

Kelly Tank was 15.2 miles from where I started this morning and less than 13 miles from the last water cache. The quality of the water in the tank looked poor, but nearby was a metal bear box. Like the box at Cedar Ranch Trailhead, this one was full of gallon jugs.

According to a comment posted in FarOut yesterday, seven gallons of water were in the box. I found far less than that. I tried to take only what I thought I needed.

While I filled my water bottles, a couple pulled up in their car. Then they hauled two large containers of water over to the cache box and refilled every gallon jug.

The couple told me their names were Alex and Ellen, and we had an enjoyable conversation. I was glad I could thank them for helping hikers. Too often, it isn't possible to thank the trail angels who restock water caches.

I continued hiking for another hour before spotting an established campsite next to the trail. I was tired but not exhausted as I set up for cowboy camping. 

Today had been a warm day, but my long breaks and the good water helped me get through it.

Out here, water sources are often a gross mess of silt and algae, usually shared with cattle and wildlife. It’s a huge relief to find water that’s clear and tastes good.

What's more, I find it genuinely encouraging to know that it was left by people who understand the trail and want me to be successful in my hike.