IN IT FOR THE LONG HAUL

Howard Calvert is a retired schoolteacher from metropolitan Phoenix. That alone is quite an accomplishment. But since the final bell rang, the 73-year-old has hiked the Appalachian Trail (2,200 miles) and the Pacific Crest Trail (2,660 miles), and in 2012, he completed the Arizona Trail (817 miles). He's logged a lot of miles, but he's gearing up for even more. “I'm healthiest when I'm on the trail,” he says.

A little before 9 a.m., the parking lot at the Picketpost Mountain Trailhead is empty. Howard Calvert squints at the tall, namesake formation, backlit by the sun. When he hiked this part of the Arizona Trail a year earlier, it was from the other direction. "It's weird," he says. "It doesn't look like a picket post at all from here. It's like looking at the back of someone's head."

But the trail under Calvert's feet feels familiar. "It's nice to get back on the trail," he says. "It's like a homecoming for me." Calvert, a retired elementary-school teacher, is one of a small but growing number of people who have hiked the entire length of America's newest long trail. Spanning 817 miles, the Arizona Trail begins at the Coronado National Memorial, near the U.S.-Mexico border, and ends at the Utah state line. Calvert was 72 when he finished in 2012, becoming the second-oldest person known to have done so. (The oldest was Ed Cleveland, who was 78 when he finished the trail in 2008.) It's a notable achievement, but it's not Calvert's first or even his most impressive. He once walked the entire perimeter of Ireland, and he is a veteran of both the 2,200-mile Appalachian Trail, which passes through 14 states from Georgia to Maine, and the 2,660-mile Pacific Crest Trail, which extends from the U.S.-Mexico border in California to British Columbia.

Calvert, now 73, is a fit 140 pounds. Today, dressed in a collared T-shirt, khaki shorts and sneakers, he looks as though he's taking a stroll through a park. His only hiking apparel is a hat with flaps to cover his ears and neck. He doesn't carry a CamelBak, even on longer hikes.

"I got tired of it clogging up and the taste of the rubber," he says.

Hiking came naturally to Calvert, who ran cross-country in high school. In the Army, on maneuvers, he took his first long treks with a full pack. For him, it was easy. After the Army, while working as a schoolteacher in California, he joined the Sierra Club and did a piece of the John Muir Trail. In the '90s, he moved to Arizona and took a job in the Kyrene School District in Chandler. For years, he celebrated the end of the school year with a Rim-to-Rim-to-Rim hike at the Grand Canyon.

"I used to call that the main event," Calvert says. "Like a boxer has a main event. He practices, watches what he eats and gears himself to handle the stress. I did it maybe four or five times."

Back then, Calvert made two attempts at the Arizona Trail. "Actually, it was scary to me," Calvert says. "Certain sections weren't completed; certain sections didn't have water. So I've been hanging out, waiting for it to get finished."

Still, Calvert didn't really get serious about hiking until after he retired.

"I was driving around [the country], staying in hostels," he recalls. "I ran into people on the Appalachian Trail. They were all trim and having a great time, and I just decided, 'I'm going to do this.'" So Calvert came back to Chandler, sold his house and car, and found homes for his two dogs.

"I just thought I'd be a vagabond," he says. "I had 32 years of teaching school, obligations out the gazoo. I just wanted to get away from everything, so I did it."

There were plenty of times Calvert felt like quitting, he recalls, but he kept going because he didn't have anywhere else to go.

"Plus, I told my family and everybody I was going to do this," he says.

Calvert stops briefly to sit in the shade of a paloverde, reaching into his daypack for a canister of water and a hand-ful of peanuts.

"This is a really nice view right here," Calvert says. "From here to the Gila River is one of the prettiest parts of this trail."

For a few minutes, he sits in silence; the only sounds are the squeak of a Gila woodpecker and the whistle of a curve-billed thrasher.

The quiet and solitude are, for Calvert, part of the Arizona Trail's appeal. Unlike the older, better-known trails, on the AZT he sometimes went days without seeing another hiker.

"I think a joy for any hiker is the time you get to spend alone," he says. "I just spend all day talking to myself. I go over the happiness I've had, the sad things. Some of my best ideas came to me while hiking. I've generated goals on hikes that have changed my life."

A few minutes later, Calvert dusts off his daypack, pull-ing a cactus spine from the bottom, and continues. His hik-ing style is unhurried and steady. He takes regular breaks, but never for long.

"I always want to see what's around the next corner," he says.

The Appalachian Trail earned Calvert the moniker "Day-breaker," for his tendency to set out at first light, and taught him a lot about long-distance hiking.

"I learn things if I have physical pain," he says. "And I also learn things if I lose money. I thought, 'Boy, I'm going to get with all these great hikers, and I'm going to learn so much from these guys.' You know, equipment, all that stuff.

"I spent a lot of time at REI, spending all kinds of money, and guess what? I found out that the real experienced hikers don't have expensive equipment at all. In fact, they carry hardly any equipment. Their passion is weight. You can go a lot farther if you're lighter. It's safer. And when you do a long trail, you find a lot of stuff you carry, you never use.

After the Appalachian Trail, Calvert worked on a cruise line as a dance host, completed the Pacific Crest Trail and eventually returned to Arizona. The Arizona Trail, which was completed in 2011, beckoned. He hiked it in 44 hiking days over two years, and he leapfrogged over the Santa Catalina and Huachuca mountains, because of snow, and the Mazatzal Divide, which he had heard was the most difficult segment to navigate.

“I don't want to be wandering around lost and going without water at my age,” he says with a laugh.

Calvert returned to the Catalinas and Huachucas in the spring and saved the Mazatzals for last, tackling that segment with David Hicks, the former executive director of the Arizona Trail Association. He finished on May 10 and ranks it his favorite long trail.

“It's so beautiful,” he says. “You're doing high mountains, you're doing desert, you're doing everything. You can lay out on top of your tent without putting it up. Watch the stars. Bugs don't bother you. Try doing that on the Appalachian Trail. You'd be covered in mosquitoes.” Calvert admits it wasn't always easy. One of the biggest challenges on the Arizona Trail is water. There were times he'd arrive at a stock tank he'd scouted in advance, only to find it almost completely dry. When times got tough, he'd remind himself, This too shall pass.

“It happens in life, and it happens as a hiker,” he says. “You're lost, you're hurting, you've sprained something, the weather's horrible. I could get away from those bad times. I could stay at home and watch TV every day and go and do this, do that, and never do anything. Bo-ring.” When he's 75, Calvert plans to hike the Pacific Crest Trail a second time. And then he wants to do the Arizona Trail again.

“[In October 2012], I'll be 73, and I have no pain,” he says. His doctors credit his hiking.

“To be honest with you, I'm never healthier than when I'm on the trail,” Calvert says. “You don't have time to think about your little ailments. All you think about is moving. When I go to sleep, I don't have worries. And everything is heightened.

“When you're eating three meals a day, it's not as exciting as when you're hiking and you get into a restaurant and you're starving. Every morsel of food explodes in your mouth.” Once, on the Appalachian Trail, someone offered him a can of peas.

“I don't even like peas, but I took those peas, and they tasted so wonderful. Oh, my God.” There were times he'd arrive at a stock tank he'd scouted in advance, only to find it almost completely dry.

Calvert also enjoys the challenge.

“You don't have bragging rights, really,” Calvert says. “Other people I tell these stories to, and their eyes glaze over. I had a sister-in-law who thought there was a sidewalk we used. And then there are people like my girlfriend, who thinks it's dangerous. She thinks there are all kinds of animals out here ready to bite me. She doesn't realize it's a joy to see an animal.” Calvert still walks about 50 miles a week, though these days he considers himself an urban hiker. He's explored Usery Park, South Mountain, Papago Park and Camelback Mountain. He walked from his home near Old Town Scotts-dale to downtown Phoenix — it took him three and a half hours — then took the bus home. He walks 10 to 15 miles a day, Monday through Thursday. He doesn't own a car or a television. He takes a book and tries to read 100 pages a day.

“My only goal is to stay alive, stay healthy, make as many friends as I can, enjoy life,” he says. “I only have a brother and a sister left, and they both suffer from Alzheimer's disease. They've always been 10 years ahead of me. So I figure whatever happens to them is probably going to happen to me. So I have 10 years before I start falling apart, because you can't stay here forever. I tell people I'll go until I pass on.”