Day 22, Geronimo Spring to Pine

I didn’t start down the trail right away. Instead, I backtracked a short distance to Geronimo Spring.

I passed this spot yesterday when the sunlight was rapidly fading. I had enough water then for cooking dinner, so I decided to wait until this morning to collect the water I needed for today.

Despite the name given to the spring, there is scant evidence that the famous Apache warrior called Geronimo spent any time at this spring or in the immediate area. For most of his life, he lived and fought far south of here, in parts of Southern Arizona, the Bootheel region of New Mexico, and Northern Mexico.

Geronimo didn't participate in the fight between the U.S. Cavalry and the Apaches at the Battle of Big Dry Wash. That was the skirmish I mentioned on Day 20.

Now loaded with enough water to get me to Pine, I continued down the trail. I could have collected it instead at Webber Creek. It was just 7/10ths of a mile down the trail from the spring, but I figured spring water would be cleaner. 

Just beyond the creek, the trail entered another burnt strip of land. It looked much like the blackened sections I walked through yesterday. They were the result of the West fire, which started from a lightning strike in late August. 

After seeing many burned patches that alternated with unburned land, I became curious about this pattern. I wondered how it happened. Did the terrain’s contours create gaps in the fire? This seemed possible because the trail curved in and out of many folds in the topography. Perhaps the fire jumped ridges as it spread.

On the other hand, I wondered if firefighters intentionally controlled where the fire burned to protect other areas

Later, when I had a chance to research my questions, I learned that yes could be the answer to both.

The alternating pattern of burned and unburned strips of land is called a burn mosaic. Often, the pattern is intentionally created by firefighters to protect wildlife habitats. Unburned areas are called fire refugia, or sometimes fire islands, skips, or shadows.

Using drip torches, drones, and a variety of other tools, firefighters managed the West fire by setting containment lines to control where it burned and where it didn’t.

At the same time, the terrain often significantly impacts where a fire burns and its severity. Sloping ground can affect the wind direction. The steepness of slopes may determine the amount of fuel available to the fire. A steep slope can also cause a fire to spread more quickly because the air above the fire becomes pre-heated.

I didn’t walk through any areas today that were still smoldering, but I saw a small plume of smoke in the distance. The fire was now listed as being nearly 100 percent contained, yet the smoke proved it wasn’t completely extinguished.

Because so much vegetation was burnt, I could see long distances, including a long stretch of the Mogollon Rim. There weren't many trees to block my view.

When I stopped to take a short break, I sent a text message to Cyndi at Beehive Guesthouse and let her know I expected to arrive at the highway between 12:30 and 1 p.m.

By 10:40 a.m., I could see the highway, though it was still four or five miles away. This road is the primary route between Pine and Payson, which is a much larger town.

Farther away stood Mazatzal Peak (7,903 feet), the highest mountain in the Mazatzal range. The trail heads in that direction and passes closely by on the other side of the mountain.

As a crow flies, the mountain was nearly 22 miles away. In trail miles, it stood more than 48 miles away.

The terrain began to flatten as I approached the highway. The trail had turned south from the rim by now, and there were no more burnt sections to walk through. 

Before long, I ran into some confusion with the trail. I saw markers for the Highline Trail but not the Arizona Trail. I didn’t know they used the same footpath. The Highline Trail is a national recreation trail that is 55 miles long.

When I checked my location on the FarOut app, I discovered I was on a side trail that was neither the AZT nor the Highline Trail. The highway wasn’t far away at this point, and I saw on the map where the trail trail crossed it. I decided to bushwhack my way to that location.

What I failed to realize after making my mistake was that I had bypassed a trailhead, and that’s where Cyndi was expecting to meet me. I arrived at the highway shortly after 12:30 p.m., the time I said I would arrive, but I was at the wrong spot.

I texted Cyndi to let her know where I was and offered to walk back to the trailhead. She said she could find me. Then I realized there wasn’t a good spot for a car to pull over where the trail crossed the highway.

After some scouting around, I found a side road nearby, and that’s where Cyndi was able to pick me up safely.

Cyndi drove me to the Beehive Guesthouse and showed me to my room. It was far more elegant and spacious than the usual thru-hiker accommodations. When Cyndi told me cold drinks were in the mini-fridge, I immediately went there after dropping my pack.

Arriving early in the afternoon gave me plenty of time to relax and get cleaned up before I left to start my town chores.

Pine is an unincorporated community with fewer than 2,000 residents. It has most of the businesses hikers need. Though they were spread along a stretch of State Highway 87, the distances were walkable.

I went to the laundromat first, where I found "out of order" signs on 17 of the 28 machines. I was the only customer, though, and was able to wash and dry my clothes without a problem.

Another hiker arrived a short time later. He told me his name was K Boog. He was the first AZT thru-hiker I talked to at length in several days.

When I made my decision to stay on the trail, I left open the thought of leaving later. I could do that anytime I wanted, though Pine was an easy place to do that. I wouldn’t have a problem finding a ride to the Phoenix airport, if needed.

Instead of making that choice, the opposite happened. In the miles walking to Pine and while I was here, I became more committed to staying on the trail. Proof of that was seen soon after I completed my laundry. 

First, I bought a fuel canister at a hardware store. That would be unnecessary if I went home, and I wouldn’t be able to take it with me on a plane.

Then I walked to a restaurant called Old Country Inn, where I ordered and devoured a pizza. Those would be unwanted extra calories if I weren’t planning to continue my hike.

After that, I shopped for groceries. A resupply wouldn’t be needed if I weren’t hiking the next 72 miles of the trail.

Each decision strengthened my commitment to stay. The self-doubts were gone. Worries about what couldn’t be controlled were a distant memory. Now there was only one path I wanted to take.