I filtered water and brushed my teeth along the river below Double Springs, the current moving steady over rocks like it had somewhere else to be. The days stretched out in that easy range, seventeen to twenty-two miles, the kind of terrain that lets your body fall into a rhythm without asking too many questions. South of Flagstaff, the trail flattens just enough to disappear beneath your feet.
Mormon Lake was still closed for the season, but someone had passed along the code to the laundry room. I charged my phone, leaning against a dryer, filled my bottles from the spigot outside, and stood there for longer than I’d like to admit, deciding what still mattered. Shoe insoles didn’t. I dropped them in the trash and walked away lighter, the ground coming through the soles of my zero drop sneakers like something I’d been missing.
On previous hikes, this was where I’d break west. Sedona. Tacos in Munds Park. Familiar exits. This time I stayed south, into trail I hadn’t seen before. Elk moved through the trees in the afternoons, quiet and unbothered. Coyotes echoing their voices across the night. In the mornings, the crows showed up, curious, pacing the branches above my cowboy camp while I stayed in my quilt a little longer than I should have. The cold still held onto the early hours, and I didn’t need to make any extra miles.
I passed other hikers here and there. Small conversations that didn’t ask for anything beyond the moment. Somewhere in that drift, I turned myself around and started heading north without realizing it. Not far, but far enough. By the time I caught it, my trekking poles were gone, my body felt off, edges dulling. Confused. Electrolytes. I knew it before I wanted to admit it. I climbed up to a ridge and stopped there for the night, letting the wind move through me while the sun dropped out of the sky.
Everything settles out here if you give it enough time. The noise, the urgency, the need to make sense of everything all at once.
And it leaves you with a quieter question.
If things can feel this clear with so little, what have I been carrying that never needed to come with me at all.
#AZT #sobo