Road-tripped to Arizona, Found the Terminus by Accident. That’s how I Start my AZT.
This blog post was originally published on The Trek, right here.
It started in Canada.
Before setting off to hike the Arizona Trail, I spent July and August working as a fruit picker in British Columbia. We called the place “Peaches,” probably because the word was printed in big letters on a sign nailed to the wall.
While I was there, I spent my free time searching for flight combinations, trying to figure out the most sensible way to start my thru-hike. I never imagined I’d actually end up driving to Arizona. But since we were already planning to buy a car to explore more of Canada, we figured — why not take it even farther?
So we did.
We bought a car, built a bed and an extending table — which I’m especially proud of because I made it myself and it earned plenty of compliments — and threw together some less impressive curtains.
Then we headed south.
The poor old Dodge Caravan had spent its previous life driving elderly people around as part of an outreach program in Lake Country, BC. It had probably never gone farther than the next town. And then, suddenly, it was rolling through Montana, Wyoming, Colorado, Utah, and finally, Arizona.
Terminuses…
A couple of days ago, we visited Stateline Campground and touched the AZT’s Northern Terminus. Because of the recent Dragon Bravo fire — and the closures that followed — we decided to begin our hike from the South Rim of the Grand Canyon, about 100 miles south of the terminus. So, we touched the monument, explored a nearby canyon, climbed back into our old Dodge, and drove off to park it in Flagstaff.
The funny thing about that terminus is that I didn’t even know it was there until a day before. Since we weren’t starting at the terminus, I hadn’t researched its exact location and assumed we might pass it later. We were in Stateline Campground to hike the canyon, so finding out the terminus was also there was a nice surprise. And another great, unexpected thing while there? I got to shake hands with a man who had built the Pacific Crest Trail’s Northern Terminus. He happened to be camping at the very same campground. Encounters like that are one of my favorite parts of thru-hiking — meeting the people who support these trails, whether by maintaining paths, acting as Trail Angels, caching water, or doing the countless behind-the-scenes things that make the hiking so special.
Terminuses are weirdly important to hikers. They’re markers of time, progress, and achievement. That wooden, stone, or metal monument becomes your goal for months. In the end, it’s not the terminus that truly matters — it’s everything that happens in between. You might not even reach one, and that won’t make your hike or your accomplishments any less significant.
Even so, terminuses are probably the most photographed structures on every long-distance trail, so it helps when someone like Loren puts effort into making them impressive. Each season, about five thousand thru-hikers sit, stand, lean, and hang off them — and year after year, they stand strong, waiting to witness the start or end of someone’s adventure.
This is my third one. This time I’m not starting solo.
This time, I’m not as scared of bears and rivers (although the AZT is not known for any of that), still as scared to leave my tent in the middle of the night to pee and still completely terrified of being the tallest thing around when a lightning strikes (been there, done that, no thanks).
We’ll see how it goes this time.