We had quite the event-filled day. After breaking camp at 6 AM (the norm for the walk), we travelled a total of 14 miles. It was a day when blisters started to appear (3 on my feet so far), a day to realize the importance of water and shade in the desert and a day to get to know the 65 walkers on the Trail.
It was also the day of our first real migrant encounter.
About mid-afternoon (we finished walking around noon and had set up camp already), two migrants approached us. After we gave them food and water, they told their story to some of our group leaders:
They had been part of a group of 20, walking over the last three and a half days. During the morning, a border patrol helicopter flew overhead, causing the group to scatter (we had noticed the chopper during our walk that morning). The two men, along with two women, became separated from their coyote but had found each other and had stuck together during the ensuing chaos. Unfortunately, by early afternoon, they had run out of food, the women were unable to go further, and they were down to less than a pint of water each (they were about 40 miles from Tucson at this point). So the two men set out to look for help (they had seen us walking earlier that day).
Three Migrant Trail leaders went with the two men back to where the women had been. It was a treacherous 4.5 mile hike over small 
mountains, and our group leader had her ankle injured by a cactus. Once they finally arrived at the spot, they found no trace of the women. However, it was clear that the spot had been passed by another group of migrants (they might have joined the others), and the women were close to the road (they might have turned themselves in to border patrol).
The lawyers in the group then walked the men through their options (though law prevents them from giving any recommendations). One decided to go back to Mexico, and the other probably did as well, though we never found out for sure. We gave both men as much food and water as they could carry and bid them off.
This encounter was yet another reminder of the perils of the desert. Our group leader (who had injured her ankle) said afterwards that she would not be able to survive the walk from Mexico to the United States if she had to follow the terrain and avoid the road (as migrants do). And we’ll never know what happened to the two women. They might be on their way to Tucson; they might be in detention; or they might even be dying in the desert as I write this. It just shows how petty my three blisters are.
