Up here I feel safe under the big sky. I watch cars on the road below leaving dust clouds behind them and I’m glad I kept moving even when it got dark. A brown thrasher sings his one of the odd and complex songs totally stolen off other birds, and just one of thousands he has in his repertoire. Thankfully, he only lingers on one line a few times and doesn’t subject me to a memorization session.
A jackrabbit with enormous ears and feet lopes by clearly not at top speed. I pack up and know that sun is going to cook in a matter of hours, especially today, the hottest of the week. I pack up and head straight towards Water Cache #2, far ahead at a road. Clint warned us that hikers seem to get lost here and advises us to keep the mountains on our left and head straight for the next range.
That is easier said than done.
For nine miles, I walk through the wide open desert without a path and with very few cairns. The route goes up and down steeply into arroyos and washes, past pokey things all wanting to scratch and tear at my flesh. Just when I’m sure I’m on the right track, I double check the GPS and see I’m way off, heading for a rocky rise through ocotillo.
It’s beautiful in here in its own stark way, but nothing indicates the most efficient route and I tend to notice cairns only when I’m right upon them. It always makes me laugh when I speak to the trail and no one is there to hear. What good is complaining, although it gives me somewhere to blow off steam. I put on lip balm and sunscreen but dare not take out the umbrella as I dodge yet another barrel cactus and skirt a hidden cholla.
The map app tells me I’ll have a cairn ahead and this seems to height of ridiculousness. They actually need to mark a cairn on the map as if it’s the only one? And lo and behold, there it is. A giant pile of rocks enclosing a wooden post that reaches another three feet and also topped by a rock. Now that’s a cairn!
I get a few more, before a trail seems to appear and I can actually see tiny cars on the highway far ahead. I cross a dirt road first which leads to a hottest desert yet, a cracked once muddy space just as temps climb into the upper 90’s. I’m sure I see Phil’s backpack ahead bobbing on the trail, but it’s a mirage. It’s an informational sign that only appears to move since I’m moving. That sign makes shade, I think and plan to put myself under it.
But first, I find the locker and fill my bottles. I carry 3 1/2 liters and am so laden with the weight, I can hardly move. But the sign proves ideal making a large square of protection that I park under for the remaindre of the afternoon. Four solid hours! Hey, at least there’s breeze and fewer flies. I eat, read a book and doze briefly.
At 4:00, the sun loosens its grip and I prepare to go walking back to the locker and topping off my water. Just as I prepare to go, a Border Agent pulls up. He asks if I’m ok and I tell him I took a siesta under the sign all afternoon. He assures me if I have any problems, his agency will be the first to respond and can get right to me on 4×4’s. He also offers me ice cold water and assures me the trail is much better to the next highway, 20 miles ahead.
I don’t go far even with all the light still left in the day. I wonder if Ricardo thought I was a dope for not hitching to Hachita and taking a siesta at the air conditioned store. The hitch is closer from the upcoming highway, so i make a mental plan to do that tomorrow.
For now, I rise up on a dirt road looking back to the Big and Little Hatchett Mountains I have walked past as the sun sets them a blazing pink. A breeze cools the air and I look for a place to set and find a flat bench above the trail much like last night without any pokey things to damage my gear. It’s still early, but I set anyway and a hummingbird buzzes me to check out who might be sharing the space tonight.