Arizona Trail Sections 1-4

We hiked the first 4 sections of the AZT, northbound, from the Southern Terminus at the US-Mexico Border.

Starting a long-distance trail is always a mix of nervous energy, heavy packs, and big expectations. But nothing quite prepares you for the sheer variety of the desert, especially when your journey begins at the Southern Terminus of the Arizona Trail (AZT) on the U.S.–Mexico border.

Over the course of the first three passages, our group experienced everything from unexpected alpine snowfall to desert wildlife encounters, dramatic crew shakeups, and some of the most unique water sources in the American Southwest.

Here is what it’s really like to hike the first three sections of the AZT.

Passage 1: The Sky Island Ascent & Bathtub Spring

We hit the trail as a crew of five, full of optimism and fresh legs at the border monument. Section 1 immediately throws you into a steep climb up the Huachuca Mountains, ascending Miller Peak.

Arizona is famous for its "Sky Islands" (isolated mountain ranges that rise dramatically out of the desert floor), creating entirely unique ecosystems as you gain elevation. We watched the desert scrub slowly fade into pine forests, and as we climbed higher into the altitude, the desert surprised us completely: we walked straight into a snowy wonderland.

The cold, crisp air and snow-covered pines felt a world away from the sun-drenched borderlands below. After a grueling first day of climbing up Miller Peak, we rolled into camp near one of the AZT's most iconic landmarks: Bathtub Spring.

True to its name, the water source is literally a clawfoot bathtub sitting out in the mountains, fed by a continuous trickle of fresh spring water. While it’s clean and flowing, desert rule #1 still applies: we filtered every drop before drinking. Camping in the snow next to a backcountry bathtub was easily one of the most memorable nights of the trip.

Passage 2: Wildlife, Fatigue, and the Mid-Trek Pickup

Dropping down off the mountain into Passage 2, the landscape shifted back to high desert grassland and rugged hills. This section delivered on classic Arizona wildlife quickly:

Javelina: We spotted a small band of these tough, pig-like creatures scurrying through the brush.
Rattlesnakes: A friendly reminder to watch every step; we had a few buzzing encounters as the afternoon sun warmed up the rocks.
Cattle Troughs: Water management is everything on the AZT. Sharing water sources with thirsty range cows congregating around metal cattle troughs is standard operating procedure here. My Sawyer Squeeze was essential here.

By the end of Passage 2, the harsh terrain and heavy elevation gains began to take their toll. Multi-day desert backpacking is relentless, and some of the guys were simply too exhausted to safely push forward. We arranged a mid-trek pickup at a road crossing. Just like that, our group of five was down to two.

With quiet determination, the remaining pair of us re-packed our gear, tightened our boot laces, and carried on into the expanse.

Passage 3: The Cowgirl Heading to Canada

Passage 3 took us deeper into the rolling hills and oaks of the Santa Rita Mountain foothills. The solitude of the desert settled in, making every encounter feel larger than life.

Out of nowhere, we heard the rhythmic clatter of hooves on stone. Up ahead, an incredible sight unfolded: a four-horse caravan, led by a single cowgirl.

We stopped to chat and learned she was riding horseback all the way to the Canadian border. Seeing a solo rider packing across the country was a humbling and inspiring reminder of the endless spirit of adventure that draws people to these long-distance corridors.

Passage 4: Midday Heat and Minivan Relief

We woke at dawn, made a quick breakfast, and were on the trail by 7:30. With just the two of us the camp break-down felt lighter; fewer tents, fewer decisions. We moved with a steady rhythm. Conversation kept the miles moving; we found a good pace and the hours passed.

The landscape changed from the last stretch. Passage 3 had felt sparse and, honestly, a little grim at times with long stretches of cow-sodden ground. Passage 4, by contrast, was more agreeable. We even ran into our first notable wildlife since the Huachucas: a javelina content to eat a prickly pear right beside the trail. It paid us no mind, so we gave it space and went around. Little encounters like that felt restorative.

Midway through we stopped at Red Bank Well to filter water, eat, and deal with gear. Our sock experiment did not go well: Ryan tried hiking in lightweight sleep socks that morning to avoid blisters, but his feet quickly told me otherwise. Back into the toe-socks he went, unpleasantness and all; better to manage the smell than to get fried toes.

The morning’s ten miles were straightforward. The next five were not. Old injuries made themselves known: an old problem in Ryan’s right leg flared, and I (Corey) started having lower back pains. The sun was relentless with almost no shade on this passage, and the heat began to weigh us down. We were both aware of time, too; there was pressure to reach the parking lot by five so we could get home for dinner with our families. That goal made a distance into a deadline.

We took a couple short breaks, the last about three miles out. After that we agreed not to stop until we reached Keith at the lot. The decision sharpened our steps. And at 4:30 on the nose, there it was: our gleaming chariot, a white minivan waiting at the trailhead. I wanted to hug it; instead I hugged Keith. He had chips and water waiting. That small welcome — the cold bottles, the familiar face, the offer of a ride — was everything.

On the drive home I felt a strange, comical disconnect with my legs, like I’d briefly forgotten how to walk. Tired and a little sore, we traded trail stories and quiet relief. The day had been a mix of good conversation, simple wildlife moments, gear miscalculations, and the steady test of endurance. The trail gave what it always gives: a clear picture of limits and small mercies — a javelina unbothered, a friend with snacks, and the plain joy of getting back to where people are waiting.