This blog post was originally posted on The Trek right here.

Leaving Patagonia.

The last section to the border went by in a blink.

Goodbyes…

We go for our final trail breakfast at Gathering Grounds Café in Patagonia. Bottomless coffee is exactly how I like to start my mornings. And they have vegan breakfast — not just vegetarian, vegan! There, we meet two other thru-hikers and end up having a long breakfast chat. Eventually we remember we have 19 miles to hike, so we gather our things and head out.

There was one person we started on the same day with — Thunderbird. We saw him on our way down to the Tip Off in the Grand Canyon. Then we saw him again. And again. He climbed extra peaks, we took random extra zero days, and still we kept meeting. A couple of times Thunderbird tried saying goodbye, but we’d see him the next day. Or the next mile. Eventually we stopped saying goodbyes.

Until that one night somewhere between Colossal Cave and Patagonia, when we decided to take a longer break during the heat and hike farther into the dark. We passed Thunderbird setting up his camp, and I simply said “goodnight,” knowing we’d see him the next day — but he decided to slow down, and we reached Patagonia a day ahead of him. When goodbyes were in order, we didn’t say any, and that was a bit sad.

We step out of the café and into our ride. I look ahead and there he is, strolling with a coffee in his hand. Of course we had to run into Thunderbird!

Day 1.

We walk out of town and my tired, arthritic knee doesn’t want to cooperate today, so I half-limp along, barely noticing the beauty until the sun starts setting and we reach the grasslands. All those golden grasses swaying in the fields of gold.

As the sun sets, we reach Canelo Pass trailhead and set up camp. FarOut comments warn about drones at night and border patrol waking people up, but none of that happens. Instead, someone parks on the road below the trailhead and blasts their TV so loudly my deaf cat could probably hear it all the way in Lithuania. I have to say, I’ve never had to fall asleep to NFL sounds on trail before. Not the worst thing to fall asleep to, I guess.

Day 2.

The next day we slowly climb toward the base of Miller Peak. My knee swelling seems to have moved from the knee down to the shin, making my leg look like a weird hemorrhaged sausage, but it doesn’t hurt any more than it has for the last ten years, so I pop some preventative ibuprofen and head uphill. As much as I would love a helicopter ride over Arizona, I’m only going to accept one from the terminus.

The day goes by quickly. There’s plenty of water on this last section, so there’s nothing to worry about — you just walk and enjoy the views. Or mentally arrange fizzy drinks in the cooler in your car.

We camp in an unremarkable but very comfortable spot partway up the climb. It’s a cold night, but the last cold night is what matters.

Miller Peak and All the Plants

The morning begins with switchbacks until we reach the first top, where ponderosa pines grow. It’s nice to see them again. We started with ponderosa pines, and we’re finishing with them.

We’ve been chasing autumn ever since we left Canada. Not on purpose, but as we moved south, we somehow kept extending our fall season. We left BC just as the leaves and larches started turning yellow. By the time we drove to Colorado, the leaves had turned there too. Arizona greeted us with summer heat and greenness, but by the time we walked to Humphreys Peak near Flagstaff, the aspens were all perfectly golden. Then we saw them again on Mount Lemmon. Aspens were here on Miller Peak too — only now they had finally dropped their golden leaves, as if concluding our long seasonal chase.

Fall, just like our hike, had come to an end.

“It’s like we see every plant for the last time,” says Kez, and it’s true. Going down, we seem to notice every plant we’ve passed across the state.

Mexico Border

Soon we see the wall from above — that gargantuan dividing line. The land looks the same on both sides. The San Pedro River and the trees along it cross the border and continue south. Nature doesn’t care about our imaginary lines.

We start descending the last 1.8 miles to the border, and the wall disappears. It turns out it isn’t finished in that section yet. Soon we see the terminus. The wall reappears around the corner. There’s a tiny bit of it by the terminus, and the rest is barbed wire. Recently they’ve added concertina wire too, which prevents you from even touching the marker that ends your hike. It sits right in front of it. But that doesn’t matter. We extend our trekking poles to the max, tag the marker with them, and then sit in the shade of the wall to eat the celebratory orange I brought from Patagonia.

That’s it — after 39 days, 700 miles of the Arizona Trail, from the South Rim of the Grand Canyon to the Mexican border, walked.

I didn’t have any revelations or grand discoveries. I was simply reminded once again that people are kind, the world is beautiful, and the mind needs a little room to learn.

And that I really do like showers and coffee.

AZT Southern Terminus. Mexico Border Day.