Liquid gold sunlight splashed over the desert not long after dawn. Above me, the baby-blue canopy of sky was brushed with the faintest wisps of cloud, dissolving into the warming air. In the distance, craggy silhouettes of mountains looked like the edges of a torn map, their outline blurred by the morning haze – a silent promise of the adventure that can be found in Arizona.
I was jet-lagged, that peculiar blend of exhaustion and exhilaration, where time feels unmoored. My body protested against this trek through the Sonoran Desert, starting from a trailhead 25 miles outside the city of Scottsdale, a winding walk along sunbaked paths, past creosote bushes and the occasional darting lizard. But at the same time, a quiet energy captivated me.
