The first twelve miles north of Lordsburg meandered through an arid desert pasture, supporting a sad handful of sickly looking cows. By 7am the sun baked the back of my calves and the breeze pushed hot sandy air in my face. When the water in my bottles, warmed by an unimpeded sun, matched the current air temperature of 87 degrees I question my choice to hike this trail.

Turning north and climbing toward the Burro Mountains I find a few trees and a lot more cows. The cow pies are so plentiful as to blend in to the surroundings and it is difficult to determine what is dirt and what is manure. A solar well, pumping water into a trough, is my water source for the day. This late in the spring surface water is rare, so hikers rely on the hospitality cattle ranchers and the generosity of folks who maintain caches of water spread throughout this section. I spread my ground sheet under some shade and enjoy a break front the heat.

The following day I wake up determined to make Silver City before dark. Ahead, a section of trail is closed for a prescribed burn, and after weighing a few options I elect to detour around the closure with a 19 mile road walk. The road walk is tough. Relentless heat and hard pavement roast my neck and chew up my feet. I have turn on some dance music to keep my spirits up and my feet moving.

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I arrive at the Triple Crown Hostel in Silver City at 630pm after 31 miles and am immediately handed a beer and a bratwurst. Salvation. A shower and laundry are on the docket, along with a handful of other errands to be handled tomorrow. My feet and back are looking forward to a day off tomorrow and my stomach is looking forward to another beer and a second bratwurst.

At 5pm on May 6th, Jeffrey, of the Hachita Bike Ranch, dropped me off at the Southern Terminus of the CDT. It’s a place called Crazy Cook because of a murder that took place on the US border with Mexico many years ago. Like most of my favorite adventures, the start of this collosal undertaking lacked any sort of pagentry. Just me and Jeffrey and angry hive of bees nesting in a nearby shade structure. He snapped a few photos, I thanked him for the lift, and I started walking North.

It is difficult to describe the breadth of emotions I felt walking up to an obelisk-shaped chunk of concrete in the New Mexican desert. A lot has happened since my last long walk and I spent my first hours on trail running through the last nine years like a slideshow in my brain. Had someone been recording, they would have seen a hiker laughing one moment and tearing up the next. I am incredibly lucky to have the time, money, and body to attempt another long trail and I wouldn’t be here without the support of my family and friends.

My goal of making it to the first water source, about 14 miles north, and a late start meant I’d be spending some hours in the dark. A comet waltzed across the sky while a rattlesnake waved hello with its tail. The myriad silver eyes of wolf spiders, illuminated by the glow of my headlamp, reflected back at me like tiny shards of a recently broken Discoball on the desert floor.

The first days miles were a mix of two-track and arroyos. When I made camp for the night, crawling into my sleeping bag felt mighty fine. I fell asleep quickly, aided in part by a cold Coors Jeffrey had stashed for me. It feels good to be back on trail. It feels like home.