From saguaros to pines: along the Arizona Trail in the Rincon Mountains
The Arizona National Scenic Trail (AZT) is one of only 11 national scenic trails in the nation. Since the 1990s, it has drawn many outdoor enthusiasts, and after six years of living in Arizona, it drew me in, too.
By Cecilia Martinez, December 9, 2025 // Western National Parks
Stretching 800 miles, the AZT winds through saguaro-studded deserts, swaths of pine forests, and deep canyons. What I found while walking this trail was more than a physical challenge; it was a way to reconnect with myself and the land.
Passage 5 of the Arizona Trail ~15 northwest of Sonoita, Arizona, Thursday, March 10, 2022.
Saguaro National Park East - March 10, 2022
The Rincon Mountains rise out of the desert, immovable and immense, their presence both intimidating and breathtaking. In southern Arizona, ranges like these are called Sky Islands: isolated mountains surrounded by seas of desert. The Sky Islands of the southwestern United States and northern Mexico are also ecological bridges, connecting the temperate ecosystems in the north and tropical ecosystems to the south.
Into the Rincons
I first glimpse the Rincons on March 10, their silhouette sharp against the horizon. Reaching the summit of the Rincons in Saguaro National Park would take three more days.
The journey demands 14 miles of steep ascent and 6,000 feet of elevation gain. My body is already tired, my pack digs into my shoulders, and my shoes pinch feet that have swollen two sizes too big (a change that three years later would prove permanent). At Rincon Creek, I give up and trade them for my camp sandals. It feels impractical and reckless, but deeply necessary. I still have miles to climb.
As I walk with exposed toes, dust kicking up around me, the desert’s heat radiates off the rocks. The teddy-bear cholla cactus glows in the sun, masquerading as something soft and affectionate, its deceptive fuzz disguising the sting of countless needles.
I leave behind the sun-scorched scrublands, where towering saguaros and coiled rattlesnakes rule the terrain.
Climbing to the conifers
The trail climbs through a series of transitions until I finally step into a forest of conifers rising like columns in a living cathedral. The butterscotch scent of ponderosa pine drifts on the air, an unexpected gift. In that moment, I understand why the transformation of these Sky Islands have been described as the equivalent of traveling from Mexico to Canada in just a few miles.
Here, the full range of Arizona’s biodiversity reveals itself in a mere 14-mile stretch. As an ecologist, I also see the scientific legacy of these mountains—where researchers uncovered ecological and geologic wonders that gave rise to the concepts of life zones and metamorphic core complexes.
Here, the full range of Arizona’s biodiversity reveals itself in a mere 14-mile stretch.
— Cecilia Martinez
A western diamondback rattlesnake alongside the Arizona Trail on passage 8 in the Rincon Valley.
Cecilia Martinez, at the northern terminus of the Arizona National Scenic Trail after completing her continuous 800 mile thruhike April 18, 2025.
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Hiking a Sky Island
The Rincons are among the most isolated Sky Islands. No road reaches their summits. To arrive, one must hike. This solitude breeds reflection. In the real world, crippling anxiety plagues me with consuming thoughts: “You don’t belong. You’re not enough.” Outside, I never feel that way. These spaces and experiences give me the confidence to feel strong, capable, and connected. By the creek I pause to rest, and suddenly the hillside stirs.
A family of coatimundi emerges, at least fifteen of them, tails arched like question marks against the pine trunks. They play with wild joy, unconcerned by me. Their presence is a reminder that life belongs here without hesitation. Tears rise unexpectedly, a quiet response to the moment before me.
This is one of the most unique places on earth—where cacti and conifers coexist, where black bears cross paths with jaguars, where rattlesnakes and gila monsters share space with coatimundi.
Cecilia Martinez standing next to Manning Camp sign in Saguaro National Park East on the Arizona Trail.
Manning Camp
At last, Manning Camp appears, one of the few designated camping spots that sits atop Saguaro National Park. The air is thinner, colder. I later learn the camp was built in 1905 as an escape and retreat for Tucson’s mayor. More than a century later, it serves the same purpose for me. I boil water for tea, burrow into my sleeping bag, and let the silence of the mountains wrap around me. Here, in sandals, in exhaustion, in solitude, these landscapes offer a rare sense of peace and belonging.
Cecilia (Ceci) Martinez is a PhD student at the University of Arizona studying how climate variability and change affect trees and forests across the West. Raised in Alaska and now rooted in the desert Southwest, she draws on her experiences in vastly different ecosystems to guide her scientific perspective. Prior to graduate school, she worked on public lands throughout the region, contributing to rare species monitoring, invasive species mitigation, post-fire recovery, and collaborative restoration efforts.
