Self Doubt and Blisters: 5 Days Solo on the Arizona Trail Part 1

The plan was 79 miles in 5 days. Solo backpacking on some of the most remote passages of the Arizona National Scenic Trail. Mazatzal Divide, Saddle Mountain, Pine Mountain, and Four Peaks Wilderness. I was banking on averaging 16 miles per day to make this distance happen in the time allotted. I figured that was ambitious for my current fitness level, but not totally off the wall. Still very doable.  

In my planning stages I was excited. Stoked to get a chance to knock out four passages of my goal to complete the AZT section by section. I read the passage descriptions, downloaded and printed the topo maps, and started collecting my gear. Transport from my endpoint back to my car was arranged, a new headlamp was purchased.

The night before I was set to leave home and post up at my starting point I suddenly was overwhelmed with panic. Was this a big mistake? Could I even do this? It hadn’t occurred to me until this exact moment that this was the longest, farthest and most remote solo trip I’ve ever attempted. I had to sit with that a minute. 1. How had it not occurred to me before that this was such an extensive project? 2. How have I been adventuring this long and not done anything this long alone until now? The answers to both were intertwined. The thing is, my husband and I have been together nearly a decade. One of the reasons I married him was that he was my favorite adventure partner. For whatever parts of the last 10 years I haven’t been pregnant or recovering from becoming a mom, longer adventures had been with him. Because, of course they have been. We enjoyed that time together and there was no compelling reason to do it any other way. Prior to that, my adventuring had been more focused on mountain biking than anything else. Backpacking only really happening when a friend suggested a project.

It was somewhat comforting to realize that my lack of longer distance solo adventure had been simply incidental. It’s not that I have been incapable or too inexperienced until now, I just haven’t had a compelling reason to. Now that we are parents, longer adventures almost have to be solo. This was why it hadn’t occurred to me that this was the first time I was attempting such a big endeavor alone. Because it wasn’t like I was setting out to do some new, more advanced thing on purpose. I was just setting out to do something I would have done before with my partner. It's just, he couldn’t come this time.  

Even reasoning this through however, I was still suddenly sweaty palmed about it. The first passage I was to tackle is one notorious for difficult navigation. I had good maps and compass (and know how to use them), but I would have no GPS back up. (My phone has decided to give up all GPS related functioning for some unknown reason and Verizon has yet to sort it out for me.) It was silly really. I plan and lead expeditions with teenagers for a living. I literally never get this nervous while leading other people’s children through the wilderness. Why does alone feel scarier? I’m not sure. But it felt very committing. No one else to consult with. No one to check my ego with. All decisions 100% on me, for right or wrong. I was equal parts worried and franky pretty embarrassed for feeling this way. I became so nervous I even began to tell myself the story that I would miss my Little Bear too much. Maybe he’s still too little for me to go away for this long. (Nevermind that I do trips longer than this for work several time a year.) Thankfully my husband was having none of that. I would go, dammit, and I would like it.

After setting my water caches at various trailheads, I settled in at the City Creek Trailhead outside of Payson, Arizona to spend the night before starting out the next morning. It was in locating this trailhead that my adventure hit its first glitch. In planning my mileage I had not noticed that the trailhead I was beginning at did not actually intersect with the Arizona Trail. In fact, I would have a six mile, straight up hill slog to begin my hike that I had not planned on. In all fairness, the trailhead description was the only place this info was listed and why would I have read the trailhead descriptions until I needed to go to the trailheads anyway? Still, missing this detail made me second guess my entire planning. What else had I missed? Had I been too cavalier in my planning? Assumed too much? What other surprises might be in store for me? The self doubt redoubled its efforts. Oh well...I guess this means a longer daily average would be needed. Now aiming for 17.5-18 miles a day average. The 15.5-16 I originally planned already felt big for my current fitness level, this increase might just put the whole thing out of reach. But, I was still eager, still game.

That night brought another snafu. I. Was. Freezing. Like shivering in my bag all night freezing. My ten year old down sleeping bag, it turns out, has lost enough fluff to be only good for full summer-only duty. The only reason I got any sleep at all was that my huge thigh length down jacket (which I affectionately call my “sleeping bag coat”)  was in the car. I put that on my upper body, wrapped my legs in my fleece, then put the whole works inside my dying bag and was able to stop shivering long enough to catch some zzzz.

(sigh) My poor bag has been shedding feathers like this a lot lately. I guess it finally caught up with me. 

As morning crept in, with my tent surprisingly wet inside from my breath, I sipped my instant coffee contemplating the best thing to do next. I’m in a bit of a canyon, so sunlight to dry this tent won’t be here for a while. My bag is insufficient. I knew I would spend at least two of my next four nights at higher elevation than this. Driving into Payson to buy a sleeping bag was not a realistic option. Even if it had a gear shop (which it doesn’t) that detour alone would cost me too much time. And the only place to really buy a sleeping bag in Payson is Wal-mart, which would yield me something bigger and heavier, but not any warmer than what I already had. Risking hypothermia on a remote mountain range was also not an option. I would have to carry the sleeping bag coat along too. Great. More bulk. More weight. So I packed up everything but the tent and then hiked my tent up to the side of a the canyon to find a patch of sunlight and dry it out while I ate some dry breakfast.  

Already so many issues and I hadn’t even started hiking yet!? Yeesh!

Geez this pack is heavy...Up and over! 

But away I went finally, walking away from my car with 46 pounds on my back. I launched with WAY too much water. Way. I had 7 liters I hauled up to the ridge. This, in retrospect sounds extreme. But this is not an area of the world know for its abundant surface water. Quite the contrary. Stories of helicopters plucking lost, dehydrated hikers out of this exact section of wilderness are not difficult to find. I was sure as hell not going to be a news story. I could see the headlines now “Professional Outdoor Educator Needs Rescue After Getting Dehydrated In The Desert.” No siree! Not Me! My 7 liters was, it turns out, not necessary. I was hiking into one of the wettest springs in recent memory. Oh well. Hindsite 20/20.

Wet spring means many, many flowers! 

Compared to the 60lb packs I learned to carry in the 1990’s when I first learned to backpack, 46lbs wa practically featherweight. But compared to my fitness level after battling chronic illness for the last few years it was a lot. Nevertheless, I made it, after 3.5 hours, to the actually Arizona Trail! Horray!! It was one part victory and two parts frustration that it was now basically lunchtime and I was only just now arriving at the place I had anticipating starting. Good Grief Charlie Brown. What next?

Finally made it to the divide! 

Feet. That was what was next. My feet were already a mess. Blisters, Blisters, everywhere and they ached so bad the pain shot up into my hips, searing, taking my breath away.

I ate. Bandaged my feet. Texted my husband and my BFF. Carried on. My roughly 1.5 MPH pace for the hike up to the trail had me even more bummed and even more doubtful.

On I went. Self deprecating thoughts swirling in my head the whole time. I’ve done enough of this kind of thing to know that the absolute worst thing you can do is have a bad attitude. The. Worst. Yet, my badittude was persistent. Ugh...get off me grumpy lady!

After a while I finally got the constant barrage of negative self talk to slow down. Not quit but at least I could just focus on walking for a while. The day was cool and overcast. Then, in a moment, the snow began. It was beautiful. Refreshing. A brief moment of peace that cooled my agitated heart. I hiked on.

About 2:00 I had my first of many encounters with other hikers. Hiking from north to south meant I was more likely to see lots of other through and section hikers since south to north is the most popular direction. Around the corner came a grey haired woman hiking alone. We paused to chat. She told me her plans and asked about mine. When I answered that yes, I was hiking solo, she became excited to the point of nearly squealing. She exclaimed, “Oh! I just LOVE seeing other women out solo! Isn’t it a wonderful way to travel!?” Indeed! She acted like I was the only other solo female she had seen like...ever. She had been the first other hiker I had seen today and she was female and alone. Could it really be that rare? (I would later learn just how rare the solo female backpacker actually is. She was the only one I encountered the whole trip. But this is a topic for another post, another day.) In any case, that interaction gave me the boost I needed to get my head out of my backside for a bit and feel more cheerful for a while.

As the day went on my pace did not improve. In fact, it slowed. A lot. There were times I was moving at about .5 mile per hour. I was feeling really down on myself. Angry to be attempting this on so little fitness, and even angrier that what I thought was challenging but doable was turning out to be just not doable in the time I had given myself. The trail was rubbly. Soooo rubbly. A never ending ribbon of sharp rocks poking my sore feet and trying to roll out from under me. Sprained ankles and injured knees taunting me with every step. But despite the challenging terrain, I still blamed myself. I couldn’t believe I was moving so slowly! What the heck was wrong with me!? Ugh!!

This...was....what most of this day looked like. I don't much remember the scenery from this day. I do remember the tread. It was rough.

By 6 PM I was utterly spent. I could feel myself getting frantic because my exhaustion was leading to a lot of serious second guessing of my navigation. I thought I was maybe only a mile from a campsite listed on the map. But I was so unsure of my pacing, I wasn’t totally certain about that. And even if I was that close, how long would that take me? 2 hours!? I couldn’t. I just couldn’t. I found a place with water nearby and a slight bench in the trees just barely flatish enough to hack out a spot to plop my tent (huge immovable rock in my back not withstanding). Food was consumed. I contemplated the reality that a change of plans was imminent, without being completely sure what that would look like. But having made it about 12 miles on day one and feeling like a mess, there was no way this trip was going to finish as planned

I passed out before the sun fully faded from the sky. Rock at my back be damned.

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Empowering Females Worldwide: An Interview with Gina Bégin of Outdoor Women's Alliance

Being female and breaking into the world of outdoor recreation isn’t easy. For many of us, we grew up with messages, some subtle and some not so subtle, that physical prowess, survival skills, and navigation in the backcountry were simply not for us. This was the domain of men. The boys were taken out to split wood with dad. Girls learned to cook with mom. Boy Scout troops learned to backpack and canyoneer while Girl Scout Troops sold cookies and did crafts.

As adults, not only are women having to push through this deeply embedded psychology, but we are also working against an outdoor culture that still treats outdoor women with suspicion and disbelief. (As a woman in a leadership role in an outdoor organization myself, I could fill an entire article with stories about being treated like I’m incapable while men 20 years my junior are regarded with respect.) On top of all this, when women want to learn new skills in the outdoors they often don’t have other women to learn from (see back to the things we were taught as children). Men teach and learn very differently than women. The way men approach teaching each other, is not a comfortable way for many women to learn.

Gina Bégin, founder of Outdoor Women’s Alliance saw these obstacles and is turning them into an opportunity to change the experience for women looking to break into adventure.

Asked what exactly OWA does Gina responded, “Outdoor Women’s Alliance (OWA) is a volunteer-run nonprofit media and adventure collective that engages, educates, and empowers females worldwide. Through the lens of human-powered adventure, we work to inspire confidence and leadership in women of all ages, believing that confident women have the power to build healthy communities and — quite literally — change the world.”

No big deal...Let’s just change the world. And the way OWA is growing, I have no doubt that they will.

Empowering women outdoors is important to Gina for the same reason it is important to many of us, because she herself has been transformed and shaped by experiences in it. She shared with me one particularly memorable experience.

“Sleeping under the northern lights in Yukon Territory in 2012. I was on my way to Cordova, Alaska and decided to drive rather than fly. I lived from my car for three years and at this point, it was much more natural to sleep in my car or a tent than it was to get a room with a bed. (Besides, lodging in the winter in the Yukon is hard to find when you’re not in the towns.) Being that it was -14ºF out, I knew I’d be sleeping in my car, rather than a tent, that night.

There was no moon. Mountains ripped into the sky as black silhouettes, lit only by stars. The road was desolate, single-laned, and its borders were uninhabited.

It was then that I saw it.

Shapeless, white, and faint. It was like a city illuminating a cloud cover, but I knew there was no city other than Whitehorse, and no cloud cover in this moonless night. Anyway, I had passed Whitehorse ages ago. There was nothing here — except that light.

And suddenly, realization. I pushed down on the brakes and moved onto the shoulder before cranking on the e-brake and turning my lights off. The window rolled down, frozen air rushing in to replace the heat. My numb fingers fumbled with a camera lens, trying to focus on something that wasn’t quite there yet. But it was growing, it was shimmering, it was beginning to dance.

The northern lights.

I hung out of that car window until my stomach, pressed against the sill, ached and my fingers were nearly drained of color from the cold. I cranked the heat and chased the lights, looking for a place to sleep for the night. Once I found my car campground, I watched until I fell asleep underneath the lights’ movement.

Though I’ve never shunned off-season outings, this experience forever cemented my preference for them. I loved that no one else was around and the wild thrill from this private showing. The only regret was that there was no human-power involved in “earning” this experience, but the impact shaped my perspective deeply.”

The idea and impetus for OWA came from first hand observation of how positive and powerful outdoor adventure can be for women, especially for young women.

Gina tells us, “The concept of using adventure sports to empower women came to me after I returned west from my home state of Florida and discovered a connection between self-confidence and participation in adventure sports.

Born and raised in Florida, I spent a few years of grade school living in the West. I learned to love skiing, hiking, camping, climbing, and exploring but, with my return to Florida for middle and high school, I found access to these healthy activities out of reach.

As I grew away the outdoor lifestyle and aged into high school, I saw many of my female peers—in their quest for acceptance—become pregnant, end up in juvenile court, or drop out of school.

It wasn’t until I moved back west for college that I rediscovered adventure sports and with it, a boost in confidence. I credit my growing confidence to adventure sports’ focus on individual skill progression.

Thinking back to my high school experience and the female friends who fell prey to social pressures, I realized adventure sports would have been a positive avenue for these young women to gain confidence, choose healthier paths, and pursue life with clearer purpose.

It was then that I began planning a way to connect young women with this tool for self-empowerment, with the intent of rerouting young people from risky paths to positive avenues of self-value.

As I continued with the idea of helping young women, I was approached locally by adult peers who wanted to participate in adventure sports but felt uncomfortable in co-ed situations. Achieving confidence in one aspect of life can spill over to all areas of life, and here, I saw the interplay between outdoor adventure and leadership qualities and confidence for all women, regardless of age or environmental upbringing.

Out of these realizations—and over the next several years—Outdoor Women’s Alliance grew into what it is today: a volunteer-run nonprofit organization that serves women worldwide through the lens of adventure.”

Outdoors Women’s Alliance isn’t just about inspiration. It’s about action. Through their Grassroots team OWA works to connect women with opportunities and community to grow their skills and confidence outdoors.

They provide meaningful mentorships and internships for women looking to learn the behind the scene skills they need to grow careers in the outdoor industry. Their media mission is to provide channels to support and uplift women for their skills and accomplishments in the outdoors, rather than for their sexuality. And let’s face it, we can use more recognition of women that is unrelated to their appearance.

On a personal level Gina is working to recover from a serious knee injury that has left her sidelined, with all the emotional roller coaster and self doubt that goes along with it.

When I asked her what was next for OWA she said, “We’re building an online platform that women everywhere can use to connect, grow skills, and build in-person communities right where they are. This new platform will bring the offerings OWA has at the team level to those who wouldn’t otherwise have access, allowing smaller groups of women to meet together in their locations to get outdoors, put on events through OWA, and continue our mission of instilling confidence and leadership skills in each participating member.  

Starting February 6th and through March 3rd, we’re running a crowdfunder to get this new platform and program on its feet. With OWA, we’re very organic in growth, relying on the feedback of needs from our community and the efforts of volunteers. We have no debt, no investors — just a community and hard-working women determined to meet the needs of #outdoorwomen.

We hope women will join with us to help provide for each other’s needs through this crowdfunder.”

We are all called to do big work in this world in some way. Gina and Outdoor Women’s Alliance are stepping up to their work and answering the call. If you too want to support getting more women outdoors and the incredible mission of OWA, please consider a donation to their crowdfunding campaign.

Want to keep up with all OWA is doing? Follow them online!

www.outdoorwomensalliance.com/about-owa

Facebook: http://facebook.com/outdoorwomensalliance (@Outdoor Women’s Alliance)

Twitter: http://twitter.com/womenoutdoors (@womenoutdoors)

Pinterest: http://pinterest.com/outdoorwomen (@outdoorwomen)

Instagram: http://instagram.com/outdoorwomen (@outdoorwomen)

This post is the second in the "Women, Work, Wits" series. Read about the why of this series and find each interview linked HERE. 

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Are You Badass Enough To Hang With Me?

Her matter-of-fact, straightforward words smacked me in the face like hitting the ground cheek first crashing my bike.

“I’ve missed out on too many opportunities to ride and have fun with friends because I was afraid I couldn’t keep up. I was worried I would hold everyone else back...you know?”

I could. Not. Believe. My. Ears. It’s not that I’ve never felt this way or that the concept was unfamiliar. Quite the contrary. This has been me nearly every group mountain bike ride I’ve EVER been on. Every time I’m invited to ride with someone I know is faster and/or more technically skilled than me. For sure everytime I’ve been invited to ride with a new person who’s rhythm I don’t know. In any given group, in any given activity, my inner critic shouts at me that I’m not good enough. I’ll never keep up. Everyone will think I’m lame. I will hold everyone back. The anxiety takes hold like you cannot believe.

No, it wasn’t the concept that floored me. It was the source of the comment. My friend who said this just happens to be the former professional mountain bike racer friend. You know, like US national champion pro racer, turned professional cycling coach. Fastest little lady on the mountain? Yeah. Her. SHE was the source of this comment. It rocked my world and shifted my entire perspective.

Wait? Do we ALL have those anxieties? Do we ALL worry that we will not be good enough, strong enough, fast enough, badass enough? Does it actually have NOTHING to do with our skill and fitness level and everything to do with some kind of inner itty-bitty-shitty committee? Really...it seems so.

Where does this come from? This notion that we must do a mental measuring of ourselves against everyone else, place ourselves into some badassery pecking order, and then apologize profusely to everyone we perceive as “above us”? Why do we think we can only hang with the friends who skill and fitness levels are exactly the same as ours? Why do we feel ashamed of our efforts?

Is this a female thing? Do men have this issue too? Maybe they do internally, but I don’t think I’ve ever heard a man giving a constantly rambling apology for how he is showing up to ride, climb, or paddle on any given day. Maybe a quick, “Dude. I’m so hung over. I’m gonna be riding like a little fat kid today” by way of letting his companions know where he is at.  But not the nervous, apologetic, repeated self flagellation to make sure everyone is clear that he isn’t worthy to be here. But women? I hear it ALL. THE. TIME. I see it in her eyes, I hear the tremble in her voice as she dodges my invitation to join me for a ride. As she explains that she doesn’t think she can. That this might be way over her head. That she just isn’t as “badass” as me so she doesn’t want to hold me back. Do we feel this way because we are stepping into a formerly male dominated activity? Because we have internalized the messages that women are weaker, slower, or less capable than men? Have we had experiences of being put down by someone about our abilities and now feel like we must provide context for our existence every time? I’m not entirely sure where all parts of this attitude comes from. But dang it needs to stop.  

This day. This ride. It was a shit show in so many ways. Bike issues. Shoe issues. But that doesn't matter. It was an awesome day because it was a day on the trail with my bestie. How far, how fast, how epic...unimportant. Image Credit to Kelsey Colby

Mama, let’s clear some things up. If I have invited you to come play with me, that invitation is without condition. I didn’t invite you with a “but only if you can keep up with me at every moment” clause. You don’t need to feel badly about yourself or excuse your existence, your value, your worth. If I have invited you to play with me it is because I want your company in the beautiful outdoors. Because I want to share an experience with you. If you fall behind, I will wait for you at the next intersection and cheer for you when you come into sight. I will help you learn the skill you are lacking, or more likely, we can both laugh at our shared difficulty with that particular skill.

Listen, I am no olympic athlete. Heaven knows the chronic illness of the last 3 years has left me unequivocally in the worst physical shape of my life. If I thought I couldn’t keep up before, I really can’t now. But you know what? It’s ok. I still get to hit the trails, the slopes, the crag and I get to do it without hand wringing and self deprecation. And so do you. Yes, inform your adventure buddies of where you are at today. It’s important to know if one party was planning an 8 mile trail run and the other was thinking 2. But once we are all clear on what we are doing today, can we just go have fun together?

Yes mama. You ARE badass enough to hang with me. If you are getting out there and doing it...it counts. There is no pace or special trick required to be in this club. The outdoors welcomes everyone. Whether you can hike 2 miles or run 20 is irrelevant here. You are out there. You are showing up. You are lapping everyone who is on the couch. And you are a stone cold badass.

And if you have friends who do try to make you feel bad about where you are in this journey? We need to get you some new friends. Ain’t nobody got time fo’ dat.           

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