Despite my kicking and screaming, Wildflower and Turtle managed to get me out of Cienega Creek and on towards Vail.

Final look back at the railroad tracks we'd slept near at Cienega Creek

We said our goodbyes to Turtle at the trailhead - he was headed down to La Posta Quemada ranch nearby to collect his resupply box and we were headed into Vail. We were hopeful we would see him again.

My mother would be glad to know that I have never hitch-hiked before... until Vail. And as it turns out - I'm not particulary good at it. But after a few cars and a van full of kids who took our photo (good enough for a photo, but not enough for a ride, apparently) an SVU pulled over with a familiar face in the passenger seat. It was Sean, a hiker we had seen - but hadn't met - in Patagonia. Another Phoenix resident, Sean was spending the day with his cousin who lived outside of Vail and recognized us as well. The three of us chatted about our experiences thus far as his cousin, Richard, took us into town and to the only restaurant open on Easter Sunday - Nico's Taco Bar. It wasn't my mom's Easter sausage, coffee cake and hard boiled eggs, but for hungry hikers - it was good enough to eat.

As far as trail towns go, Vail, Arizona is about as unimpressive as it gets. Perhaps it was our timing of arriving on Easter, but I'm not sure that I would have a whole lot more to say about Vail had we arrived on a busy Wednesday morning. Come to think of it - I'm not sure 'busy' and 'Vail' belong in the same sentence.

We ate with Richard and Sean and made our way across the street to the gas station and then to the Walgreen's - the two best (and only) options for our resupply for the next section. Sean had mentioned he'd camped the night before with Red Shirt Guy, our friend from Kentucky Camp, and thought we might run into him in town. Sure enough, as soon as we walked into Walgreen's, there was Red Shirt Guy. We all lamented for a few minutes over the lack of fuel in town and how we would have to go cookless for the next section. We bought out Walgreen's supply of blister pads, pop-tarts and a variety of chips and snacks to get us through the next few days. I'm fairly certain my High Fructose Corn Syrup counts will be off the charts by the end of this hike. Red Shirt Guy left us in front of the store to sort through our purchases. We suggested he wait to hitch a ride back to the trailhead with us, but, in true Ultra Athlete fashion - he though the additional 4 mile walk would be a pleasant way to spend the afternoon. A warm down, I suppose.

When it did come time to hitch back, we got our thumbs ready, our smiles on and within moments we had a ride. I know what you're thinking, but actually, it was a woman. Thank you very much. Linda, a Tucson resident who was out for a Sunday drive, was curious to hear about what we were doing and excited for our adventure. As we chatted with her she mentioned her sons, one of which was a Hatha Yoga Instructor in Tucson. Wildflower and I laughed - of course he was. Of course a yoga instructor's mom would be the one to give us a ride. Our world got a little smaller as the three of us figured out that her son taught at the same studio we'd taken class in the day before we left for our hike. Linda was a lovely trail angel and because her grandkids were with other family on Easter, I think we might have also brightened her day a bit. It made me happy that we had found a teeny thread of a yoga connection - yet another bit of Sangha to complete my Easter.

We said our goodbye's to Linda at the trailhead and passed our info along. If ever you are in need of housepainting or repair services in the greater Tucson area, I would highly recommend Linda's Paint and Repair in Tucson. Namaste, Linda.

We were anxious to get back on trail and away from the lackluster town of Vail as the afternoon was quickly coming to a close. We started back on trail and as we hiked away from the public park area there were remnants of an Easter egg hunt amidst the cacti.

I smiled thinking of the hunt that had happened at my parents house and had a slight tinge of my homesick return knowing they were all gathering again at my Aunt's house for dinner. I took comfort in the fact that despite my distance from family, I'd managed to create a pretty interesting Easter Sunday for myself.

It only took a few miles before we saw him... about a 1/4 mile ahead, slow and steady... our Turtle. Apparently he'd had quite the fiasco getting his resupply box. A warning to anyone who might be interested in hiking the trail and sending a package to La Posta Quemeda Ranch - there is a former employee who has stolen the ranch's number in an effort to steal ranch business and hikers are the casualty. Hikers who call to inquire about sending their resupply are met with a very kind woman who gives her personal address for the boxes and then, apparently, doesn't do anything with the boxes. Turtle's parents had been helping him with resupply boxes and when they found out that Turtle was without his box were NOT thrilled. One call from Mama Turtle and the ex-exployee turned resupply-box-thief was on her way to the trailhead with his box. I have a feeling Mama Turtle and I would get along very well.

For us, it meant the band was back together and we were thrilled. Wildflower and I knew that Turtle would be with us until Tucson when we would take our first rest day with Papa Miguel and Mama K - a fact we were quite happy about. We made camp that night in a sandy wash outside of the Saguaro National Park boundary and shared BBQ ribs that one of the families at the trailhead had forced on Turtle while he waited for his resupply thief. As the sun set, we looked towards the Rincon Mountain range directly ahead of us. The next day would be big- a 5000 foot elevation gain climbing through this range, passing through Saguaro National Park and up to the top of Mica Peak.

We are the blue dot on the left. Manning Camp is at the top of the peak!

In our local hiking, Wildflower and I do a lot of hiking UP. We rationalized that this would be like home. Sure, 5000 feet was a big climb - but it was spread out over 14 miles or so and a lot of the local hikes around the Pacific Northwest were big climbs. Our legs were ready for this. Just another day, we though. Turtle wasn't as convinced.

We started out early that morning, leaving before Turtle and knowing he would catch up at some point (probably while we were lounging somewhere). It was going to be a hot day climbing on the southside of the mountain and we wanted to get at least to Manning Camp - near the top of Mica Mountain - by the end of the day. Saguaro National Park is one of the most stunning places I've ever been.

Wildflowers and cacti in bloom as we entered Saguaro National Park

Walking through the variety of cacti and desert wildflowers felt like we were walking through someone's manicured garden. Everything beginning to bloom and the variety of color and texture made for one of my favorite sections of the trail thus far. I even saw two Gila monsters within a matter of minutes - pretty incredible considering their endangered species status - temporarily changing my trail name to Gila Whisperer.

My wonderment was short-lived. Not too far after entering the actual boundary of the park we began climbing. And climbing. And climbing. We were ahead of Turtle, but I was sure he'd be nipping at my heels before too long. Wildflower felt much stronger than I did, as evident from the increasing distance between us. Temporary relief came over me as I arrived at Grassy Shack, our water source and an established campsite about halfway up the mountain. There we rested and ate lunch, soaking our hot and swelling feet in the cold creek nearby. Of course Turtle arrived as we were lounging in the shade and the three of us ate together, trying to make light of the hard work still to be done. Not too long after Turtle had arrived, Red Shirt Guy popped through the trees. He'd camped at the campground near the Vail trailhead the night before and intended on climbing up, over and back out of the park in one day - an additional 6 miles or so to our itinerary. I was almost too tired to be jealous of his seemingly endless energy. He was light on his feet and stopped for only a few moments to chat before throwing his pack (which looked like it weighed about a 1/4 of mine) and saying, "Well, would love to stay, but I've got to get going!" and up he went. I'm not sure if it was just dehydration setting in, but to me it looked like he was running.

The second part of the climb proved to be even more challenging for me. I picked up the rear, moving at a pace even slow and steady Turtle would pass. Slowly, mile after excruciating mile, I climbed. I began to think of all of the reasons I was a failure in this moment. I began to get angry - at myself, at the mountain, at Wildflower for being quick and at Turtle for being slow and still being quicker than me. I finally stopped, alone on the side of this mountain that had become my personal hell and threw my pack down. I might have kicked it. Twice.

Looking out from the side of Mica Mountain

I sat and looked out from where I'd come. It was beautiful, but it only made me more angry to think that as far as I had come, it was not even a quarter of the way through this hike. I felt defeated. The wind had started to pick up and there were hawks lazily riding the wind, circling in the sky above me. Their wings reminded me of a sentiment from Buddhist nun Pema Chodron I often reference in my teaching - Awareness without Compassion is Warfare. I thought of these two wings - compassion and awareness - and realized that I had allowed myself to become a one-winged Yogabird. I was all awareness and no compassion; waging my own internal war. I thought about all of the negative things I'd spent the last several hours telling myself. I should be able to do this. This should be easy for me. I'm an experienced hiker, I'm active, I'm strong - I'm a yoga teacher for goodness sake - I should be like the energizer bunny up this mountain.

I'd spent the entire afternoon 'shoulding' on myself, and I'd made quite a mess.

I picked up my pack, and finished my climb. I didn't move any quicker, but everytime I thought "I should...." I would catch myself.

Ahimsa. Compassion.

Eventually the challenge of speaking kindly to myself became my focus and before long I could see Wildflower and Turtle, taking a pack break near a pretty little creek, patiently waiting for me. I stopped, dropped my pack and looked helplessly at Wildflower.

"Good job. That was hard." She said, knowingly.

Turtle looked pained as well, "I don't know about you two, but I'm not going any farther tonight."

It was clear we were all spent. We'd made it to Manning Camp at dusk, elevation 8,000 feet. We made camp amongst the trees that had changed from Saguaro to Ponderosa Pine and as I drifted off to sleep that night it almost felt like I was back home in the North Cascades, a comfort I was thankful for. There would be tougher climbs and hotter days to come, but for me, learning self-compassion on that first ascent into the Rincons would serve as my toughest challenge and most valuable lesson.

Arizona Trail