Latest Adventure
Hieroglyphic Canyon
Late last week a good friend of mine named Steve flew out from the east coast. He's a corporate pilot an old college roommate and a pretty good athlete. We decided to get together and his idea of fun was an 11 mile hike in the superstition mountains east of Phoenix.
Now, before you go thinking I agreed too easily, trust me I didn't. I suggested golf (with a cart and a few cold beers and no real scoring rules). But his father was coming out on a commercial jet and to do this hike and if I didn't think I could hack it...
Are there any words in the English language that have gotten more people into trouble than "If you don't think you can hack it."? If there are I don't them.
Of course I could hack it. So despite the fact that I had spent five straight weeks in front of my computer working on the next draft of Black Sun without moving more than 11 yards at any one time, I decided to meet up with them on this 11 mile hike.
The plan was simple: They would start from one end, I would start from the other, and like the railroads meeting in Utah where the golden spike was driven we would meet just before the summit of Superstition peak. That was the plan anyway.
So I drive up to Phoenix, find the trail head and begin the hike. First hour goes well. I have water, PowerAde, a few snacks and a camera.
Phone contact is spotty but it'll get better as I get higher.
Ninety minutes in I encounter the first problem. Power bars I thought were in the pack are sitting on the passenger seat of my car. And I'm starving. OK I can push on, and I still have plenty of water, so maybe I can barter some other hiker for food. How's that for getting back to nature?
Problem number two: I haven't seen any other hikers, or really any sign of the trail for about thirty minutes. Could I be lost? I'm a man, I live by the man code: Chapter 5 Verse 7 tells us: one is not actually lost until they ask for directions. Besides - there's no one around to ask. So I refer to Verse 8 of the same chapter which states: If the possibility of being lost occurs, move (walk, run or drive) faster in whatever direction you happen to be pointing at the moment. Ah, the wisdom of the ages of men.
I push on.
Amazingly, I come to an area of fresh water running down the granite rocks of the canyon. I'm so amazed by the sound and sight that it takes me a minute to realize there are hieroglyphics carved all over the rocks - pictographs really, deer and hunters and what looks like a pre-Columbian snow boarder. (I'm not kidding - check out the photo.)
The code has conquered again.
So I take some photos and continue on - problem three hits, what looked like a nice trail on Google Earth is actually a dry river wash, strewn with boulders the size of Volkswagens. Some of them are bigger, like busses just tossed here and there. So instead of walking, it is now climbing, scaling, dropping down. (You ever see an ant walk across a field of gravel? That's what this feels like.
I climb an avalanche area to get a better view - almost causing another one, but that's a different story. Te truth is not good. This is the only way to go.
And thus problem number four. My friends expected me to reach them in two hours and it has already been three and a half. By the time I get to them we will be losing the light, and you don't want to be hiking down through all this in the dark.
We make contact and they head for the summit alone. I head back to hieroglyphics and wait for them. Two hours later I see a pair of ants, walking out through the gravel. Finally.
Years ago I hiked with these same two, my friend Steve and his Dad. They're no different now, in fact they remind me of Terminators. In the immortal words of Kyle Reese, "They don't stop, they never stop!" So far I've done three miles and they've done eight. So be it.
We start to hike out, Steve tells me he's thirsty. I look at him like he's some kind of Rookie. Didn't you know to bring enough water? He grins. "I guess not. For some reason I brought all this food though."
I stare jealously. Let the bartering begin!