One Cold [High] Desert | Arizona Trail

One Cold (High) Desert

Arizona Trail | Week 1

Days 1-2

Prologue | Welcome Back

Thanks for tuning in here & reading my blogs. It means a substantial amount that you’d take the time to read what I have to say. Please keep in mind, too, that I love to intermingle stories with information to supplement the tale and inform folks about best practice, safety, and environmental conservation. Now, let’s get on with the story of our AZT hike, which is only a few months old since it took place December 2024-January 2025. We feel it’s a story worth discussing for several reasons. Cheers and enjoy the read!

Arizona Trail | Purpose

Hiking with a purpose- that was the intent behind out AZT winter hike. We had approximately 1.5 months to complete the trail, in between Fall and Spring semesters for me (Wesley, aka Yeti Legs). I would graduate in May 2025 with a third degree, so I couldn’t just skip it over to extend a hike if we needed to. That made things a bit more complicated, but completely doable. ~ 800 miles in 1.5 months (December 6, 2024, to January 17, 2025) put us somewhere around 19 miles a day, average. The “purpose” bit was because we wanted to “do something” other than just hike, as enjoyable as that is. To some level we felt a bit selfish for just taking 1.5 months off of life to hike. Hiking is rewarding, but not what we would call 100% enjoyable in the moment because it’s often Type II Fun, but either way, a slight sense of guilt urged a passion project along with this trek. We have plenty of friends who work in the film industry (especially my wife, Basecamp, the other half of the ‘we’ I keep referring to) so thought to ourselves,

“Hey, why don’t we make some sort of a documentary about this hike. But, not just a typical, ‘this is my adventure, it’s beautiful and hard, and it’s all about the people you meet,’ type of documentary, but perhaps something to do with conservation?”

Of course, quite a lot more went into that conversation, but you get the idea. Being in Ecology, I communicated with the ATA (Arizona Trail Association) about what we could do that would be of some benefit. They opted not to partner with us/our film crew on the project, but did supply us with the idea of collecting climate data for observing impacts on the future of water management. That’s fancy lingo for us taking a cute lil’ handheld (Kestrel 5500) weather meter to collect elevation, temperature, and RH (relative humidity) data along the route of the trail in winter, to see how that might influence snowpack persistence (if it melts faster or slower). Score, that was our plan; a plan that I would later realize the forests (or lack thereof) of AZ likely play a huge role in. Fast forward a few months after establishing that “purpose” and gaining a little bit of support from some invested hiking brand names, we began the AZT on December 6, 2024, from the Stateline Campground, heading south through Arizona.

Our friend, Boondoggle, a fellow we’d met on the Pacific Crest Trail, had picked us up from Colorado. He was trying to hike “The Wave” in northern Arizona, so the time worked out perfectly. The three of us made the drive to Page, AZ in a day, shadowed by a couple (Nina & Joey) that would hike the first two days with us to collect drone and other footage for use in the documentary. We had a general structure for the type of footage we needed to collect for the documentary, but in the same fashion that many things in life present themselves, the ‘heart’ of it was something we’d let the trail direct us towards.

High desert landscape abut juniper/pinyon pine regimes.

Day 1 | December 6, 2024 | 16. 85 miles

On a bone-chillingly cold morning, Basecamp, Nina, Joey, and I started out from the northern terminus. If you’ve ever hiked a long trail before, you know that there’s no cheering squad at the start or finish of a trail hyping you up (unless you organize them to be there, that is), but we had a nipping breeze, and Boondoggle cheering our start that day. I just want to emphasize the mention of “cold or chilling” here, because it was cold on that trail in December. Highs for this and the next few weeks would be in the 40’s/low 50’s, and lows were almost always below freezing with an all-time low temperature of about 3 degrees F. The first stretch of the AZT, heading south, is along the Kaibab Plateau, part of the Colorado Plateau, which sits above 8000′ feet in elevation most of the way. It’s a plateau hosting a high desert.

One of the many gates along the AZT. Basecamp and I are shown.

That first day came and went, rather uneventfully, but it was great to move our legs and great to do so with Nina and Joey. The two of them would periodically stop to snap photos, extract some video recording of various moments, and even haul out a drone to buzz above us capturing landscape panoramas of Pinyon pine, juniper, and banana yucca. Both Joey and Nina had done a lash on the Appalachian Trail, and other backpacking trips, so they were no novices to the rhythm of a typical day on trail. We’d planned to meet Boondoggle, who had a car and was able to drive ahead for an intercept meetup point, at a designated intersection where we could all pitch for the night. Chaotic turkey prints danced on the trail and surrounding ground, perhaps a fight or territorial scuffle in muddy soil as a recent snowfall had been melting. There were small patches of snow here and there, but nothing noteworthy. We’d been cold most of the day, but daily temperatures were still warm enough to slowly thaw the remaining bits of snow that clung to shady spots.

We connected with Boondoggle, pitched our tents, squeezed on all our layers before having dinner in a circle, and then said “Goodnight!” to one another before crawling into our tents and bags. Basecamp and I were lucky enough to have 20 F Hyperion sleeping bags which, when combined with a 20 F sleeping bag liner and a healthy mummy-up zip, was more than cozy in the sub-freezing temperatures of Arizona. You’d be surprised to hear this, but there was a good bit of humidity in the air which added to that “bone chill” factor, and heightened desire to hastily retire to our tent.

We’ve always considered ourselves campers, instead of hikers. Which is funny because we tend to get to camp late most days after 20-30+ mile pushes, but when we sit down at night and talk about our day, at least one of us often says something like,

“Man, it feels so good to be at camp and in our bags for the night!”

“Tell me about it,” the other might say, “hiking is wonderful, but I look forward to our beds at night!”

Thick forest before camp at the end of Day 1.

Day 2 | December 7, 2024 | 18.32 miles

It was difficult to rip ourselves from the comfort of our cozy setup, and even a bit painful packing up camp, despite gloves, because our fingers would tingle and spike with pain from the cold. The process of packing up took us an hour, easily, but we did it and set out with the whole crew. Boondoggle was hiking back to his car, and Joey/Nina were hiking with us until about 6 miles north of Jacob’s Lake, which was a convenience store/restaurant/gas station/campground/part of the Kaibab National Forest all bundled up into one. The reason for that- they needed to charge a few things (camera gear) up for us ahead of time at Jacob’s Lake and wait for us to slack pack there. And then, well, their car was still at Stateline Campground, so Boondoggle needed to drive them there to pick it up. Loads of logistics these first two days, I know, but I’ll explain this in a moment.

As Boondoggle peeled off from the herd towards his car some 3 miles outside of camp, the four of us hiked on and off together discussing the day before, film/photography settings, life, and whatever else hikers discuss in the middle of nowhere. There was a wildlife tank (basically a giant vessel of cement and metal that collects precipitation) that we stopped at to collect some water, and to show Joey & Nina the benefit of a prized piece of gear we’d brought with us: water treatment tablets.

Side tangent on water filtration/treatment: Specifically, these were Aquatabs that we used- chlorine-based tablets designed specifically for rapid water treatment, and safe to consume even with regular use. We also had our Sawyer water filters with us (which we swear by), but they don’t offer much assistance when the air temperature is below freezing, even if the water you’re trying to filter isn’t quite frozen yet. As soon as you begin trying to push that water through your filter in below-freezing temperatures, that water almost immediately begins to freeze since you’re thinning it out inside the filter. When that thinned water begins freezing, it renders your filter useless not only because the filter itself becomes clogged with frozen water, but what you’ve also just done is effectively widened the pores meant to filter out tiny microorganisms and parasites who objectively want to get you sick (to anthropomorphize microorganisms a bit). That widening ruins the filter. Thus, why we always bring a second method of water treatment with us when we backpack. Humans need water. Stuff happens in nature. It’s cold where we live in Colorado, even in the spring and fall. So, through this combination of practical tidbits, we’ve decided to always keep water treatment redundancy with us. And sometimes, we simply don’t want to stop and filter water for 10-30 minutes so, if a water source is flowing or otherwise clear, we will full up a water bottle and just “tab it” with an Aquatab.  The treatment process only requires 30 minutes to “cook” the water (basically just kill the bad bugs) and then it’s safe to drink. So, you just managed to hike another 1-1.5 miles while your water was treated instead of stopping for that filter session. Of course, tablets offer no level of filtration for turbid or otherwise nasty water. There’s a tool for every occasion, right?

While we cracked open an inch of ice covering our water source, a tiny water bug began to paddle through the green-hued tank. We sat there for several minutes, mesmerized at the little thing’s tenacity and resilience to the elements. We’d need to be just as tenacious if we were to continue through those temperatures.

Water source with the water bug where we utilized Aquatabs.

It was only a few more miles until the Boondoggle meetup point. Various life stages of Ponderosa pine canopied the trail up to the access road. We all stopped for a quick breather at Boondoggle’s SUV while he greeted us and let us know that he STILL had not won the lottery to go hike The Wave next day. Poor guy! He’d been trying for weeks. We all hoisted our packs into his trunk while I took a few shots of Japanese BBQ sauce (Bachan’s to be precise- don’t knock it until you try it). Sauce hits right on trails for me. I’ll take bottles of BBQ sauce, hot sauce, ketchup, mustard, and even Chick-fil-A sauce on thru-hikes and just down the stuff by itself. Sodium and sugar injections in one delicious mouthful!

At this point Boon, Joey, and Nina were heading to Jacob’s Lake while Basecamp and I slack-packed the last 6-7 miles. When I say that we slack-packed, I mean that we jogged that 6-7 miles with only a water bottle and a phone. It’s a great option to explore if you have someone with a vehicle at your disposal. The slack itself only took about 1.5 hours through rolling Ponderosa stands before opening into US 89A and the Orderville Trailhead where, once again, our boondoggling chariot awaited us for the last time.

“Hey guys! You made it here pretty fast!” said Boondoggle.

“Well, when you’re not lugging around a 25-pound pack, it’s not hard to zoom down trail.” I replied, “That stretch was super cruisy.”

“Yup, I remember it being a smooth carpet ride when I did it last year. Okay, let’s get you to Jacob’s Lake for a burger.”

Jacob’s Lake was a quaint but welcomed sight despite being only 1.5 days on trail. We’d already hiked/run about 28 miles in that time, which was, to us, a burger-worthy stretch of hiking by any standard. Sitting at the bar wedged between a souvenir shop offer Native American-themed paraphernalia, and a display case filled with over a dozen cookie flavors, we ordered juicy burgers, charged our electronics behind the bar, inhaled everything on our plates, and then utilized the luxury of indoor plumbing…in that order.

Through a hasty resupply of chips and AA batteries (for that weather meter I mentioned earlier) we sat near the fireplace of the main lobby to organize our packs before everyone took off on a 1 hour drive back to the northern terminus, the same stretch that had taken us 1.5 days to travel by foot. The fire was down to embers but still gave off a faint glow and welcomed warmth from the cold seeping in through the windows. There was even a decorated Christmas Tree adoring the center of the space. Joey came over and swapped out the batteries for some of our equipment (1 DSLR camera, 1 mirrorless camera, 2 Osmo Pockets, lav mics, and plenty of ounces in batteries and battery chargers) and made sure we didn’t need anything else.

Packed and reluctant to leave what felt like our tramily (trail family), Boondoggle drove us all back to the Orderville Trailhead and we said our farewells. We wouldn’t be receiving anymore Boondoggle chauffeuring or Joey/Nina drone footage for the rest of that trail, nor would we be hearing any more of Nina’s isms, which we’d already coined “Ninaisms” over the last day. She would randomly blurt out things like, “My brain is half a meatball.” or “My flip hexor is acting up!”… or one of ten different iterations of the word “honey” they would both use to speak to one another speckled the conversation. Different tonal inflections of the word meant different things in their ‘micro language’.

Basecamp, Yeti Legs, and Boondoggle (left to right).

With heavy hearts and heavy packs filled with a 5-day food carry, we headed south away from the parking lot and our friends. For the rest of the evening, we followed what appeared to be a Forest Service access road, covered in snow. It wound through silent wood padded with muffling snow amongst aspen, pine, fir and spruce. After 4-5 miles, we were approaching a water source marked on our map, and the sun was all but gone, leaving a pink and red ghost along the horizon. Pulling out our headlamps, we waddled along a rusty barbed fence to a water tank. This one was oblong and covered with only one small hose exiting close to the bottom . There was no obvious flow, so I crawled on top of the rusted container, creaked open the lid, and saw water inside…about 5 feet below me with not a bucket for scooping in sight.

“Damn!” I said, “There’s no way I can reach it.”

“Oh well,” responded Basecamp, despondent, “there’s another water source just around the corner, according to the FarOut.”

Turns out, there was indeed a water “tank” just around the corner. In that moment, we also learned that “tank” did not always refer to an enclosed water vessel, but rather an open-air pond created for livestock to drink from. It was frozen solid. I threw stones as high and hard as I could to try and break the surface up, hoping to see a few air bubbles shooting up, or ripples from liquid water. No such luck. They would either burst on impact or bounce away. So, we were there, roaming in the dark looking for a flat spot to camp, with about 1 liter of water shared between the two of us. Luckily, there was snow all around us, and we had camp stoves to melt it down. We were forever thankful that we hadn’t taken up cold-soaking.

Closing | Podcast

Oh, tales from the trail. I believe the last actual trail tale I wrote (before this one) was for Week 15 (out of 26) on our Pacific Crest Trail Journey back in 2022. That blog was back in the summer of 2023. Well, if you didn’t already know, we have a podcast covering ALL weeks from our PCT trek- Week 19 is being released this coming Monday (May 19, 2025), so give it a listen! The podcast name is: Yeti Walks Into Basecamp: Talking. Thru. Hiking. and you can find it wherever you get your podcasts. We are absolutely completing our tale from the PCT trail, just in a different format. I do want to mention just how much we love Backpacker Radio, as well, and how much of an inspiration it has been for Marie/Basecamp and me in creating our own podcast.

Photo Credit: Nina Taryn of The Rinis Photo & Film