I think that Day 3 of any backpacking trip is around the time when what you're doing starts to set in. Your clothes and body are dirty, yet dirty socks get pulled onto dirty feet. The feet are tender and blistered and probably swelling, but you're going to put them to work again. There are pack burns on your shoulders that are crying for relief - instead you load up your backpack and grit your teeth as you pull the straps down. The only upside to this day 3 for me was that I was with 3 friends who, when our forces are combined, are pretty much the most entertaining crew I know. The morning started with blister comparisons, medical tape wrapping technique, and pre-coffee selfies.

Erika showing off her foot taping skills

Me and Jen - still smiling after 3 days in the backcountry!

We checked our map, trail data and water reports before leaving our creekside camp. Having enough water is on the forefront of my mind on any hike, but on this hike it will take on an entirely new and critical role. Arizona is very dry, and there will be stretches on this trek of 20-30 miles between water resupply. Reliable data and meticulous planning will be a constant challenge Wildflower and I will face. Until Parker Canyon, water had been reliable and fairly consistent along the AZT. Now we faced our first day where we would have only 1 water source about halfway through our nearly 16 mile day. We spent time calculating and filling our water bottles from the creek. The thing about water is - you definitely don't want to run out... but carrying more than you need takes valuable energy, as a liter of water weighs 2.2 pounds. Our reports had us to our water resupply - Middle Canyon - about halfway through our day. We filled enough water to last for 8 miles, and set out - ready to conquer the Western portion of the Canelo Hills.

Our mood quickly turned from lighthearted excitement about our adventure to slight disdain over the work ahead of us. The terrain as we left Parker Canyon and traversed through the West Canelo Hills was brutal. The constant up and down over rocky terrain was made even more challenging by the heat and lack of shade. The reality of what hiking in Southern Arizona would mean was starting to set in.

One of the many 'up' climbs we had in the Canelo Hills

This section of the trail did bring with it new and interesting plants and trees. Erika perfectly described the landscape as architectural. The variety of cacti and trees is amazing. I've never looked at a dead tree as a thing of beauty the way I do here in Arizona.

It was midday as we approached Middle Canyon, where we would rest for lunch and fill up on water. Wildflower led the way with map and GPS in hand as we approached a dry creek-bed. We'd been, in part, relying on a phone app that other hikers on the AZT are using and updating. Just 2 days prior, hikers had noted the exact location of a couple of pools of water. "It's just another .1 mile!" she shouted back at us. We walked the .1 ..... just more of the same dry creek-bed.

"Maybe we were supposed to walk up the stream off-trail - I'll go check." I dropped my pack and jogged back to the first creek-bed crossing and wandered for a bit up the rocky wash to find the pools of water that were waiting for us.

More dry creek-bed.

The group was silent as we walked along the creek that once held our water and I knew the reality of our situation was setting in. I laughed to myself as I thought about Aparigraha - the 5th Yama - Non-Attachment. One of my favorite ways that Aparigraha was explained to me in yoga teacher training is in thinking of a hand cupping water. If you make a fist to hold onto the water - you will lose it all. If you detach completely, and let your palm open flat - again, your water will spill. In order to keep the water, you must allow an open, cupped palm and practice non-attachment to this water. Of course, this explanation is a metaphor for whatever it is in your life - a partner, a job, a material item that you might be attaching to.

For me, Aparigraha is the most challenging Yama and will likely be my life's work. I attach. To people, to places, to patterns... when it comes to attachment, I am a master. In this moment though, it was literally water - and I couldn't help but laugh at my very scary, very un-funny situation. I get it, Universe. I need to practice non-attachment. Thank you so much for this opportunity (note: the sarcasm font is not working right now. Hope you caught it)

Attachment - or more specifically, practicing non-attachment - does get a bit tricky when your life is on the line. I had to transition from my philosophical interpretation to actually assess my situation and our collective situation. We had another 8 miles to a guaranteed water source - about 4 hours of hiking. We had plenty of food and between the four of us, we did have enough water. Not the ideal amount of water - less than half of what we'd planned on having - but we weren't going to die. I was coming to terms with this truth when I heard Wildflower from 50 yards ahead.

"WATER!!!!"

Our 8 feet moved a bit quicker as we rounded the next corner and saw it - the most beautiful algae and bug-filled pool of water I'd ever seen. On any other hike, in any other conditions, I wouldn't have even given this pool a second glance. Today, this disgusting, frog-filled, cow drinking and who-knows-what-else hole would save the day. It was gross, but it was water.

Once we'd purified AND filtered the Frog Turd Water, as it has lovingly been dubbed, the rest of the day seemed to be a breeze. There was more climbing, rocky terrain and the heat was very present, but it all seemed manageable in comparison to the near-crisis we'd faced in Middle Canyon.

We reached a saddle in the hills about sunset and had to stop to take in the views: A beautiful sunset to the west and the nearly full moon rising in the East.

The moon was so bright we could see our shadows in the tall grass as we made our way to camp. We camped near a cow pool walking through a field that one of our fellow hikers had noted as 'the who's who of cow pies.' We camped near the dam that would supply us with water in the morning and were able to laugh about the last bits of Frog Turd Water we were boiling for our dinner.

It wasn't until the morning as I was packing up that I realized when my sunglasses had fallen off my hat during our moonlit walk the night before, I had lost a lens. My new trail name would now be One Eyed Jack. Erika had proven to be acutely aware of time - she was now Rolex. Jen's sun hat at some point in time was compared to a chips and salsa bowl... so she, as a result, was Chips and Salsa. Any stress from the day before had dissipated as we laughed at my pirate face, our new trail names, our smelly cow-pie kitchen and the now unlimited cool, clear water from the dam we had camped near.

Collecting water from the dam.

We filled up just enough for our hike into Patagonia. Not too much, of course, because the thing about water is - you don't want to run out... but you don't want to carry too much either.

Arizona Trail