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

Stats:

Miles: 163.6- 230.6
Days: 4- 9

Big storm coming.

I’ll start where I left off last time.

Two more days until we reach Flagstaff — or so we planned, but the weather had other plans.

Nature is a powerful thing.

Back in civilization, it’s easy to think money runs the world. But out on trail, walking through miles of wildfire burn or landslides, you’re reminded that with just a flick of lightning or a few degrees’ change, nature can turn you into a pile of ash before you can even say the word “money,” and it doesn’t matter how much of those you have in your bank account. The harder you fight against nature, the more reminders you get.

Last time I tried to outrun a storm cloud, it caught me right at the summit and reminded me—loudly, and with ground-shaking authority—that you do not compete with nature.

Enter Wednesday…

Somewhere about six miles away from our planned camp for the night, I see two hikers sitting under a juniper bush, so I stop to say hi.

They tell me someone is picking them up to wait out a big storm and that there’s space in the car for us too.

I knew a storm was coming, but I hoped it would hit Friday night—by then we’d be close to Flagstaff. Ten minutes of weather-page scrolling later, I realize it’s coming early. This time, I’m not even pretending to outrun it. We’ve got a car in Flagstaff; we’ll wait it out in relative comfort.

The driver texts that she’s making dinner and we can stay the night.

In the last three months, we’ve slept in a real bed about a handful of times. A bed, a conversation with a local, and food sound divine.

Since I didn’t ask if I could use their real names in the blog, I’ll just call them “the nicest couple in Flagstaff.”

The nicest couple in Flagstaff live in a cozy house with a fireplace, two friendly dogs, and stunning views. We instantly like them both. We chat as we help out with dinner. Lightning flashes on the horizon. There’s a flood watch issued for the whole state of Arizona and parts of Utah. Everyone seems to think this storm will be a big one. We shower and go to bed expecting chaos. The night passes suspiciously quietly—but the bed is so soft I probably wouldn’t have noticed if an orchestra performed “Entry of the Gladiators” by my bedside.

Thursday…

We wake up to cloudy peaks, but no rain, no thunder—nothing. Hurricane Priscilla seems to have skipped town day. We check the forecast: rain in the afternoon, with Friday and Saturday still looking terrible.

Before the storm starts, we do laundry, go to REI, wander downtown, and visit the Museum of Northern Arizona. When we come out, the sky looks dramatic enough to justify a disaster movie. Still, nothing. By now, the “terrible storm” has become a running joke. It rains lightly at night—barely enough to call a storm.

Friday…

It’s raining in the morning. Kind of peacefully. Kind of annoyingly too, because we could be ticking off miles right now in that drizzle. We check the weather. Saturday still looks pretty bad. Then Sunday is sunny and Monday rainy again. The nicest couple in Flagstaff insists we can stay as long as we like. We already feel like we’re overstaying, but their stories are so good I secretly want to hand them adoption papers and stay forever.

We spend the day by the fire, playing with the dogs. By evening, Saturday’s forecast improves—so we plan to walk.

Saturday…

Two days to Flagstaff, then one more around it. The nicest couple offers to keep our car so we can resupply later—they’ll even pick us up from the highway. Deal.

Saturday ends up being really sunny. By the evening, we reach aspen groves and pitch our tent. It’s pretty windy and rains a bit at night.

Sunday…

We’ve finally reached those golden patches we’ve been seeing. I don’t think I’ve ever seen trees that are so uniformly golden. Morning sun filters through golden leaves that sound like a river and fall to the ground with every gust of wind. It’s beautiful!

By day’s end, we can see Flagstaff from the hills. We get picked up from the highway by—you guessed it—the nicest couple in Flagstaff, and stay another night.

Monday…

I scroll Facebook. It throws an alert at me: “Tornado watch in Coconino County.” Excuse me, what now??? I decide this is fake news. Scroll again—same alert, different source. Nope, still fake. I go downstairs and find out a friend of the nicest couple in Flagstaff also called them about that. Naaahhh. We’re walking. Today is the day to see Walnut Canyon—the reason we made this route around Flagstaff instead of cutting through it via the urban route. Angry clouds hang low, so we shortcut along the highway, passing an impressive collection of discarded bedding and empty booze bottles. We finally get to the canyon, and guess what? It’s closed due to the government shutdown. In case anyone is in doubt it’s closed, there’s a big flashing billboard saying it’s closed, orange plastic barriers, cones, and a stern-looking security guard. We pretend we don’t see any of that and still go up to the guard asking if it’s “really closed.”

“Yup,” he says. So there you go. All that looping around for the canyon that wasn’t open.

Rain starts as we hit south Flagstaff. Our friends from Peaches (the orchards in Canada) happen to be in town, pick us up, drive us to our car, and we all go camping in the woods. In true Peaches fashion, we have frozen pizza for dinner. We make a fire, drink some beer, and sleep in the car one last time.

Goodbye Flagstaff…

In the morning, we take it back to its parking spot, get dropped at the trailhead, and keep walking.

It feels like it took forever to walk around Flagstaff—but now, this section is finally done.

Also, about three different strangers in and around Flagstaff have given us their numbers, telling us to call in an emergency or if we just wanted company. As eager as I was to go back on trail, Flag had a really good atmosphere to it. I have my new favorite trail town.

Things I learned along the trail.

I decided to add this bit at the end of my blog posts because I like learning about the places I walk through. I’m not local, so if you notice that I’ve misunderstood or missed something, please feel free to point it out in the comments.

The Navajo language was used as a secret code during World War II and proved to be unbreakable by enemy forces. It was primarily a spoken language, and very few people outside the Navajo community could understand it. Navajo men were recruited to “send” and “receive” coded messages.
Pack rats, the little thieves that sometimes steal hikers’ stuff, turned out to be surprisingly useful to researchers. They have a habit of collecting all sorts of things, piling them up, and using their urine to crystallize the piles into what are called middens. In Arizona’s dry climate, these middens can last for up to 50,000 years. Because pack rats gather seeds, bones, twigs, and other bits from within about 100 meters of their nests, researchers can use them to understand what the vegetation and climate were like in the past.
Wildflowers! There were so many along the way that I ended up photographing most of them.

The Big Storm, the Golden Aspen, and Never ending Flagstaff