I went to Arizona with one big plan: hike till my legs complained, then hike a little more. I packed my Osprey daypack, broke in my Altra Lone Peaks, and told myself, “Slow is smooth.” That was cute. Arizona had other ideas. For the full play-by-play, I pulled those first impressions together in My Arizona Hiking Trip: Dust, Sun, and A Lot of Water.
I went in April. Warm days, cool mornings, yellow brittlebush in bloom, and that dry wind that sneaks up on you. It felt like someone turned a hair dryer on low and forgot to turn it off.
Why Arizona?
Red rock. Big sky. Real trails that make you earn the view. Also, I wanted tacos after every hike. That part worked out.
I started in Phoenix, slid over to Sedona, then up to the Grand Canyon. A simple loop. Simple-ish.
Day 1: Camelback Kicked My Shins (and My Ego)
I hit Camelback’s Echo Canyon at 5:15 a.m. The lot was almost full, no joke. Headlamps flickered up the ridge. The first part felt easy. Then the rails started. I put on light gloves. The rock was steep, polished, and a little slick with fine dust.
For trail nerds who want every data point—rail locations, mileage markers, and safety notes—here’s a comprehensive guide to hiking Camelback Mountain’s Echo Canyon Trail that covers it all.
I passed three people who were already panting and thought, “I’m fine.” I wasn’t. The last push is a scramble that uses hands and knees. My heart thumped like a drum. I carried 2 liters of water and finished most of it. Poles? I left them in the car. You need both hands.
Time up and down with a snack break: about 1 hour 50 minutes. The sunrise washed the city in pink. I stood there, sweaty and happy, and ate a peanut butter tortilla that stuck to my teeth. That’s when I felt the first tiny rock in my shoe. Welcome to Arizona.
Tiny tip: parking fills fast. Be nice to the rangers. Also, sunscreen sticks better than lotion when you’re sweaty. I used Blue Lizard and a goofy hat. No shame.
Day 2: The Superstitions Taught Me Respect
Flatiron via Siphon Draw. This one humbled me. If you like a deep dive before you lace up, bookmark this in-depth overview of the Flatiron via Siphon Draw Trail—it lays out the chokepoints, elevation profile, and must-pack gear.
The trail starts strong, then turns into a rock chute. The rock looks smooth—almost like poured concrete—but it’s real and steep. Near the top is “the Wall.” It’s a short, hand-over-hand move. Not hard, but you feel it.
I carried 3 liters, plus a packet of electrolyte tabs. Halfway up, my calves started to twitch. I forgot salt the day before, so this time I mixed a bottle with lemon electrolyte powder. Tasted like a melted lemon drop. Worked like a charm.
I followed the cairns (those tiny rock piles) and took breaks where the wind slid through the notch. My hands got dusty and a little scraped. I didn’t mind. The view from Flatiron looks like the whole valley got rolled out like a map. Plan on 5 to 6 hours. Mine took 5.5 with photo breaks and a very slow down-climb.
Did I get a cholla spine in my leg? Yes. Did I pull it out with a plastic comb I keep in my first aid kit? Also yes. Learn from me: carry a comb and tweezers.
On the way out, I bought prickly pear lemonade at a stand near Lost Dutchman State Park. Sweet, cold, and a tiny bit sticky. Worth it. If you’re scheming your own assault on those crags, don’t miss my honest take on hiking the Superstition Mountains.
Day 3: Sedona’s Red Dust Stained My Socks (I Loved It)
I set my alarm for rude-o’clock and aimed for Devil’s Bridge. I parked at Dry Creek Road around 5:45 a.m. The 4×4 road to the closer lot is rough, so I walked it. The air smelled like sage and red clay. My shoes turned the color of paprika.
The climb to the bridge is short and punchy, with stone steps and a little scramble near the top. It’s wider than it looks in photos, but I still felt my stomach flip when I stepped out. A couple from Houston clapped when I made it across. We passed a phone around like a hot potato and took photos for each other.
After that, I drove to Cathedral Rock. The trail is steep sandstone with tiny ledges you grab with your fingers. If your shoes have sticky rubber, you’ll grin. If not, your heart will talk to you. I saw a guy try it in flat sneakers. He slid. He turned around. Good call.
I ended the day with red dust up to my ankles, and a bag of Haribo in my car. The gummy bears melted into one giant bear. I ate it anyway. No regrets. Sedona whet my appetite for nearby peaks—my saga on Four Peaks lays out how rugged those summits get.
Day 4: Grand Canyon — Down Feels Easy… Then You Look Up
I did a safe sampler: South Kaibab to Ooh Aah Point at sunrise, then later walked part of Bright Angel to the 1.5 Mile Resthouse. I didn’t go to the river. Don’t try that in a day unless you really know your body and the heat. People get in trouble fast here.
South Kaibab has no water, but the views are ridiculous. The ridge-line feels like a roller coaster with cliffs on both sides. I watched a mule train pass—bells, dust, and that slow, steady pace. On the way back up, I counted steps and breathed slow. Hike a bit, pause a bit. Simple rhythm.
Bright Angel has water spigots (check season), shade, and a kinder grade. I used poles for the climb. My knees said thank you. Total time, both parts, with long gawking breaks: around 4.5 hours. The wind on the rim cut through my sweaty shirt. Funny thing—I thought the sun would be the worst. It wasn’t. The wind stole my heat. I pulled on a light puffy and ate an RXBAR while watching a raven do lazy loops over the cliffs.
If you’re heading south instead of north, my gritty, sun-scorched recap of hiking in Southern Arizona covers what the desert down there throws at you.
Tiny Fails That Taught Me Stuff
I forgot to reapply sunscreen on Camelback. My nose peeled. That fiasco is partly why I toyed with ditching the clothes altogether—my very candid thoughts on nude hiking in Arizona live elsewhere for the brave. I also tried new socks on Flatiron—dumb move. Hot spots showed up fast. A little strip of tape saved me, but still.
Another fail: I packed poles for Devil’s Bridge. They got in the way on the scramble. I stashed them behind a juniper and grabbed them later. Don’t worry—I remembered where.
Also, I almost skipped breakfast before South Kaibab. I ate a banana and half a bar in the lot instead. Huge mood shift. Food is pace.
Long hours alone under that desert sky can also spark a craving for company once the boots come off. If that rings true after your own mileage, take a peek at Uber Horny—the site makes it ridiculously easy to meet like-minded adults nearby so you can trade more than trail beta when the sun sets.
On the more practical side of post-trail recovery, my calves were so knotted after Flatiron that I would have paid gold for a legit deep-tissue session. If you ever limp back toward the Pacific Northwest and pass through the Tri-Cities, browse Rubmaps Richland—the crowd-sourced listings break down which parlors, therapists, and price points actually deliver relief, so you can swap trail pain for a proper rubdown without any guesswork.
If You’re Planning
If you want a single source that breaks down trail distances, water points, and current conditions, browse the detailed guides on ArizonaHikingTrails.com before you lace up.
- Start early. Shade is your friend.
- Tell someone your route. Reception drops a lot.
- Don’t count on water unless the park says