Day 2 of my AZT thru hike froze my older bones and made me wonder what the hell I was doing out there! But sometimes, when life presents adventure after a crappy divorce, you take that opportunity.
AZT NOBO Miles 9-20
| Date: | March 14, 2020 |
| Trail: | AZT (Arizona Trail) |
| Miles that day: | 11.5 |
| Total Trail Miles: | 20.0 |
Freezing, Forests & Finding Myself : Day 2 of the AZT
The second morning on the Arizona Trail wasn’t the cozy camp morning I had imagined. You know the kind—just cold enough to make coffee feel magical, but warm once the sun hits your tent. Yeah, this was not that.
Instead, I woke up freezing. I couldn’t feel my fingers. The air bit at my nose. My sleeping bag, mummy-shaped and new, had done its best, but I still shivered as I packed up. But that’s the thing about hiking the Arizona Trail as an older woman—you don’t wait for ideal conditions. You get up, you move, and you find warmth in motion, not comfort. And maybe that’s what starting over after a divorce feels like too.
Read also : Day 1 on the AZT
Waking Up Cold, but Not Miserable
I was on day 2 of my first-ever thru-hike. After just a few weeks of planning, hesitation, and personal grief, I was finally walking the Arizona Trail. I’d made it through the intense 3,000-foot climb on day one. Now here I was, camped just past Bathtub Springs at around 8,500 feet, feeling exhausted but oddly energized.
As I fumbled through breakfast—instant oatmeal and a sad, lukewarm instant coffee—I realized I couldn’t eat much. My stomach turned at the thought of food. The altitude, adrenaline, and sheer life change of being on this trail were affecting me. And yet, I wasn’t miserable. Not even close.
I was alive. I was doing it. Hiking the Arizona Trail as an older woman, as someone trying to piece herself back together, was messy and hard and so damn worth it.
Rebuilding One Mile at a Time
The day’s hike started with a slow but steady rhythm. Trees surrounded us—tall, protective, and calming. After living in the desert for four months, the forest felt like home again. Shafts of sunlight cut through pine branches, and the scent of pine needles filled the air.
This section of the Arizona Trail reminded me that even after the worst storms, growth still happens. For me, starting over after a divorce felt like wandering in a desert for months. But now I was stepping back into the forest, reclaiming peace one mile at a time.
We crossed paths with deer, walked ice on the trail, and even strapped on micro spikes to keep from slipping. That’s the trail’s way of humbling you—just when you think you’ve found your groove, it reminds you that nature doesn’t owe you ease.
But guess what? Ease isn’t why I’m out here. I’m out here to feel everything.
Eating on Trail: A Struggle I Didn’t Expect
Throughout the day, my appetite barely showed up. I forced down some cold-soaked couscous at lunch, knowing my body would crash without fuel. I snacked on dried fruit and nuts here and there, but it wasn’t until camp that I finally craved food again.
That night, I devoured a warm meal of freeze-dried lasagna. And it felt like a five-star feast. It wasn’t just the warmth—it was the normalcy. After a day of navigating unfamiliar terrain (both literal and emotional), that little pouch of pasta made me feel like I could handle this life.
A New Kind of Comfort on the AZT
That night we camped just past the mile 19 gate, tucked under trees, near a stream. We’d hiked 10.5 miles that day, which felt like a small victory. The elevation had dropped to around 5,600 feet, and I finally felt my body adjusting to trail life.
I tossed and turned in my tent, of course. My sleeping bag rustled every time I shifted, and the cold made it hard to stay still. But I was warm. I was safe. And more importantly, I was doing something that terrified and excited me in equal measure.
When I reflect on hiking the Arizona Trail as an older woman, I don’t think about speed or strength. I think about resilience. I think about getting up cold, packing up stiff gear, and still saying “yes” to the next step. The trail doesn’t care how old you are or where you’re coming from. It meets you exactly as you are.
Just like life after divorce.
Starting Over After a Divorce Isn’t Linear—Neither is the Trail
Divorce wrecked me in a way I didn’t expect. I lost more than a relationship. I lost routine, identity, safety. I even lost my sweet dog, my best hiking buddy. Grief layered itself over everything. I didn’t recognize myself for months.
But starting over after a divorce doesn’t mean pretending it didn’t happen. It means honoring the hurt and hiking through it. Every mile on the AZT is part of that healing for me.
On day 2, I realized: the trail is the metaphor. Sometimes you’re freezing and forcing food down. Sometimes you’re walking through sunshine with deer staring curiously at you. Either way, you keep going.
20 Miles In and Just Getting Started
As we ended the day 20 miles into the Arizona Trail, I finally felt like I belonged out here. My gear wasn’t perfectly packed, I didn’t eat the right food, and I still needed to Google how to layer properly in the cold—but none of that mattered.
What mattered was that I kept going.
That’s the gift of hiking the Arizona Trail as an older woman. You’ve been through things. You don’t need to prove yourself to anyone. You’re here because you chose to be. Because you’ve learned that showing up is the bravest thing you can do.
More about the AZT
- Arizona Trail
- Guthooks Guide for AZT – App we used to navigate
- All AZT posts on AllieRambles
FAQs About Hiking the Arizona Trail as an Older, Divorced Woman
1. What’s the hardest part of hiking the Arizona Trail as an older woman?
Honestly? It’s not your age—it’s your mindset. Your body might need more time to recover, and you’ll have to prep a little smarter, but your life experience is your superpower. The real challenge is trusting yourself and tuning out the voices that say “you’re too old.”
2. How does the Arizona Trail help with starting over after a divorce?
The trail creates space—physically and emotionally. You get time to reflect, breathe, and step into a new version of yourself. For me, every mile was like a breadcrumb back to who I really am. It gives you confidence you can’t get from therapy alone.3. What should I pack for cold mornings on the trail?
Layers, hand warmers, and a warm meal you actually want to eat. My biggest mistake was assuming oatmeal would always hit the spot. It didn’t. Bring food that comforts you. Also, test your gear in advance—it can make or break your morning mindset.
Thanks for stopping by!
~Allie
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Hi, I’m Allie, obsessed hiker, explorer of our world and reinventor of my life in my 50s.
Here at AllieRambles I explore what it means to rebuild and chase freedom in your 50s and beyond—because life doesn’t end at midlife, it begins.
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