The first day on the trail blew my expectations out of the water. The GET started in the Superstition Wilderness outside Phoenix: jagged dark mountains and hills dotted with seguaro, prickly pear, and barrel cacti. The red dirt was spotted with flowers in every color of the rainbow.

The trail was gentle and easy to follow. Streams flowed everywhere, even in places that were often dry. At one such stream, I heard a day hiker exclaim, “This might be the most full I’ve ever seen it.” The abundance of water in the desert this year was fine by me.

But if “easy” was a word I’d thought might describe the GET, the second day quickly proved me wrong. As I got further from the initial trailhead, the route dissolved into a fainter path that was occasionally only a series of cairns, and often overgrown. I found myself using my paper maps as much as I did the GPS. The spectacular views didn’t let up, though.

It was also hot. Dropping straight from sixty degree coastal weather into the Arizona desert would take some adjustment. I’d started hiking early in the morning to try and beat the heat, and ended up taking a long lunch break in the early afternoon, cowering in some shade away from the white heat of the sun. It felt great. But it didn’t help my daily mileage.

Towards the end of the second day I consulted my maps and realized that after a short climb, the next few miles would be downhill. Totally doable in the couple hours of daylight left. What I didn’t count on, though, were the thorn bushes.

From the moment I started to descend, it was apparent that this trail was unmaintained. Sharp, thorny bushes reached across the trail from both directions – not just occasionally, but every few feet.

It was like trying to walk through a thicket. Even when I brushed right through them, arms clasped tightly to the front of me and face turned so as not to get a spiny slap on the branchs’ rebound, it took extra time. And this was time I didn’t particularly have. Already, the shadows were starting to knit together. Any flat, decent camping spots were far behind me. And the only way down was through.

I took my time at first. But the later it got, the more visions of camp and bed danced before my eyes, and soon I was wondering if it would be possible to camp on a forty degree slope. It didn’t take long before I was past caring if my backpack snagged a little or if new thorn-ripped runs appeared in my sleeves. I sped down the mountain, barrelling through all of the thorn bushes. I was GOING to make it to the bottom before dark. (I did have a headlamp and could theoretically night hike, but thorns were annoying and enough even in the light. And I was tired.)

The bottom lay before me and my maps promised a great camping spot just ahead. And then I saw it.

The sun had long since dipped below the ridge line, but there was still enough lingering light to see the plume of smoke rising from the campsite, quickly followed by a glimpse of two brightly colored tents. Someone else had beaten me there.

I crept back a hundred or so yards to a flattish strip right next to the trail and managed to get my tent set up before darkness fully arrived. I slept well.

The following two days were much easier trail-wise. Only sporadic thorn bushes over the trail, and truly magnificent views. The heat didn’t let up, but the forecast calls for cooler days ahead. I made it into Superior on the fourth day, and let me tell you, a cool room has never felt so good.

To end this post, here are a few random pictures from this leg.