Monday, August 31, 2009

Yesterday was Mike's and my 6th anniversary. He wanted breakfast at the Jerome Grille, and then said that we would do whatever I wanted.

I remembered him saying a long time ago that he knew where there were some Indian ruins - they're protected but you're allowed to walk to them. This is what I want to do!

Mike (being the perpetual voice of reason) pointed out that Arizona is having record heat for this time in August, the humidity is up, we've just eaten a heavy breakfast and this plan of mine is not a good one.

But I am stubborn and I've got an idea in my head and I insist.

So about noon we get to the hill that we need to hike up. When I say "up" I mean UP with capital letters. It's about 2 miles of rocky bad trail, the grade is at least 30% and it's 105 degrees and there is no shade.

Did I mention that I am stubborn and I've got an idea in my head and I stamp my little feet and insist? Mike shakes his head and shoulders his bag and we head up.

Neither one of us is having much fun, but I'm seeing random pieces of pottery and every time I look up it seems as though the summit where the ruins are is Right There. We forge ahead, sweating a lot and cussing occasionally, Mike asking once again if I don't think it's time to turn back because this is stupid - we can come back some other day. Since this story continues you know what my answer was - if I'd been smart and agreed to turn back it would end right here.

Now, I was born and raised in Arizona and I know full well the dangers of this place. However, I seem to have been made with a deficient sense of self-preservation. I have no fear of snakes or scorpions or spiders (centipedes totally creep me out and I got treed by a herd of javelina once) and for God's sake I could see our house from where we were. What's the worst that can happen?

We trudge some more and finally get to the top - there's the ruins. It's hot. It's damn hot. There are no trees up here, just one sad little juniper and a few crucifixion thorns.

I'm not sweating anymore, which is a very bad sign. I have a headache, my hands are shaking and I'm confused. I go to the edge of the cliff to see how close the creek is and wobble. Mike sees this and realizes that I'm in trouble and steers me over to a miniscule patch of shade under a crucifixion thorn and makes me sit.

I'd been giving Mike a hard time about this bag that he's carrying. He's been grunting and cussing at it since the first step, and I'd suggested leaving it at the side of the trail repeatedly. Now, bless the man, he pulls from this bag a bottle of ice water and makes me drink it - all of it. Then he pulls out another bottle of ice water and dumps it over my head. Then he pulls out another bottle of ice water and makes me drink that one, too. Then he pulls out a beer and he drinks that.

I'm scared. Mike is really scared - we still have to get down and he's not sure how to accomplish that, what with me needing shade and being stumbly. Mike mentions calling the rescue chopper, but I'm coherent enough to be horrified at that idea, at the embarrassment and expense. (Mostly the embarrassment. When I see people who have to be rescued, I always call them Boneheads and ask "Well, what did they think was going to happen, going for a little stroll at high noon on the hottest day yet in August? Nimrods.")

Mike thought about calling our friend Brain and having him come get us in his WallCrawlerJeep. To do that Brain would have to knock down the locked gate and drive up the protected trail and risk a $10,000 fine. Brain would do it in a minute if Mike called, but this did not seem like a viable option to me.

In the end we didn't have to do anything. The shade and water worked and after about an hour I got up and walked down to the trail head and we went home. I took a long nap and was just fine.

My point in writing all this is to remind us all that even though it's almost Fall, even though you're close to home, even though you're competent and comfortable in this country, it can be lethal. Human beings are not constructed to stroll around in this sort of heat. Thank goodness Mike was smarter than me and came prepared. Thank God I didn't take it into my head to go up there alone, which was a possibility.

Happy Anniversary, and be safe up there.