My Friends as Cats

“If you go into a street fight thinking you’re going to lose, you’re about to get your ass whooped” Coach Thompson calmly explained in his ironically funny Mike Tyson voice emitted from his 6’3”, 400 lbs frame as he casually paced the row of young men to either side, frisson in the air. Many wise words have been echoed in varsity locker rooms across America. Phrases, expressions, idioms and the like passed down from your dad’s dad. When boys were boys, and men were men. Words that put us into a frame of mind to confront other young men on a Friday night. Words that, for those who listened, can be carried through life.

It was set to be a record hot day in Phoenix, nearing 120°F. A Sunday free of obligation, I wanted difficulty, hardship, and challenge not found in the air conditioned tech office that awaited me on Monday. Over a decade removed from Friday night light glory, I wanted to confront the record heat in the most head on way possible: a long hike through the desert mountains. Setting the app filter to ‘Hard’ in my smartphone, the path less chosen called. 60 minutes later, I stood looking up at the foot of the Superstition Mountains.

The Superstitions are beautifully haunting. They feel as old as time, offering no sense of beginning or end. Sheer rock faces remind you how insignificantly small you are. Desert flowers, cacti, and trees exist despite little nurture, giving the sense of an otherworldly realm. Being old Apache land, we know the brown dirt is blood soaked from encounters with Arizona settlers hundreds of years ago, which was already red from whoever the Apache encountered before them. According to the Apache, there’s a hole that leads straight to Hell. Spend any meaningful time in these mountains and you’ll get the sense that you’re not alone. Hear something behind you and you don’t turn around to see what it was, but who it was. A metaphysical dread.

In addition to the natural and spiritual richness, there’s folklore of the Legend of the Lost Dutchman. According to the lore, The Dutchman, actually a German, found the abandoned legendary Peralta mine in the Superstitions with his partner in what was still northern Mexico. The two hid a cache of gold in those mountains. The Dutchman's partner couldn’t tell the tale because he was made dead by the Apaches, according to The Dutchman. Misdirection, sabotage, and worse were employed to keep the exact whereabouts of the cache unknown. On his deathbed, The Dutchman described the location of the gold to his caretaker. She, and countless others have searched for The Dutchman’s mine since that day in 1891. No less than 600 people have died looking for it, so the legend goes.

There were two other vehicles at the trailhead when I parked my truck that Sunday morning. Between the heat and the remoteness, it was more than I had anticipated. Being a semi avid hiker, I was confident in my fitness, and purposely hydrated well the day before like any good Arizona man would do. While the trail I had chosen only had a few reviews indicating it was low foot traffic, it had been previously trekked. If they could do it, I could do it. It was a 14 mile out and back with some elevation gain as far as I could tell from the scant reviews. By my calculations, I would complete the trail in a handful of hours, 3-4, tops. No need to tell anyone about my hike, and no need to take a backpack as I wanted to be light. I put the truck in park, and stepped out into the record Arizona heat. I was going into this street fight thinking I would win.

There were numerous trailheads, so it was possible I’d run into one of the other few hikers, but not likely. I set off. Taking in the desert sights around me in my peripheries, my eyes were angled at 45° to see a few feet ahead of me. You’re looking for rocks and holes and such that may cause you to adjust your marching cadence to avoid a bad ankle twist. Oh, and snakes. Snake bites happen fast and could make for your last hoorah depending on the serpent. Hiking feeds the mind and the soul. Thoughts pass through you. According to psychologists, people's attractiveness is determined by the symmetry of their face. There’s no symmetry in nature, though, yet the Superstitions are one of the most beautiful things you ever will see. Breaking man’s rules, the perfection of the land that had been there long before me and would be there long after. I was never more sure of God’s existence.

Traversing through hills, I had elevation gains and drops. I left my phone in the truck so that I could improve my land navigation, but I knew I was at least a few miles in by the time I got to the wash. The trail spits you out of the palo verdes, prickly pears,and yuccas and into the open. This is an important spot to remember.

I began making my way up the wash. Stagnant pools of water remained from rain a few days before, with hums from the mosquitos breaking the vacuum of silence as you approached. I was on the trail, I think, or at minimum a path that I was enjoying. To either side were the mountains. The side I emerged from, the other other side that looked much like it. Making good time with my steady pace, I carried on. A ways up the sandy wash were large rocks. None of this was familiar from my brief trail research, but I had my bearings, couldn’t resist the bouldering, and most importantly I hadn’t found the turnaround point signaling trail completion. While relatively small, the climbing and jumping from rock to rock was relatively low risk fun. 

Once through the boulders, I pressed on up the wash and followed what I thought was the trail. Since this trail was so seldomly traversed, there was no maintenance nor even cairns stacked by previous travelers to guide. In fact, it’s unclear the last time anyone was even out here. Once I was sufficiently bushwhacking through the growth and there was no semblance of even a natural trail, I had most anticlimactically decided I had hit the turnaround point. It felt like 7 miles, give or take.

Feeling chiefly fresh, it was the first time I took note of the heat. Being an out and back and not a roundtrip, you complete the trail again but in the inverse. Everything should be familiar and predictable. I worked back through the brush, back over the boulders, through the sand, and started seeing the shallow pools again. This time without the hum of the mosquitos. To my bewilderment, the terrain began to feel unfamiliar. I couldn’t have gone too far though since I didn’t find my turnoff back onto the path, back up into the palo verdes, prickly pears,and yuccas. Back to the parking lot. I scanned the mountain, looking for the brown line etched into the mountain that is the trail. It wasn’t there. Not to worry though. Missed the turnoff. Easy fix, just double back and if you see the shallow pools you’ve gone too far.

So I began the hike back up the wash and eventually came to the shallow pools. I had missed the trail yet again, but I knew it had to be close. The clearing should have been obvious. Again I scanned the mountain side for the trail, and nothing. Growing up a gringo in the desert, you know when the sun is winning. Not only did I notice the heat, I began to feel it. An inner monologue took control, calling for calm and knowing that panic was the worst thing that could happen. Some of the reference points made sense, but many of them felt so foreign. I had to be close to where the trail met the wash. Confident in the waypoints, I worked my way back down the wash.

Again, I went too far. I walked up and down the wash a few more times. For the first time, I allowed myself to realize I was getting thirsty. The sun was overhead. There had to have been six, seven hours before sunset. Taking shade meant sitting in the dirt hugging the short bush. Even then it was scarce and not much relief.

Think, I told myself. Inner monologue in full effect. It’s the thoughts that can be the beginning of the end. The chatter of the voices picks up. What would a survival guide tell me to do? No phone, no water, no one to holler to to get back onto the trail. Should I take cover in a bush and keep the sun off of me? Would the moon be full enough to light the terrain at night? There shouldn’t be black bears down here, but if there were, they wouldn't eat humans, right? If someone found my truck in the parking lot, wouldn’t it be nice if there were a handwritten note which trail I was on? Or better yet, wouldn’t it have been great to hear my family’s voice on the phone while I told them my plan for the day? Whose voices were these? What was just hours ago a peaceful, serene, welcoming panoramic beauty was quickly devolving into a nightmare.

Close your eyes. Deep breath in, hold it. Deep breath out, hold it. Do this three times. Open your eyes. Stay in the fight.

I wasn’t going to find the trail exiting the wash. Fine. There were now two viable options: climb up and over the mountain absent any semblance of a trail, or circumnavigate the mountain entirely and bushwhack around the base. It’s no fun getting caught on slippery slopes at steep angles up mountainsides and would cost large amounts of energy on the former, so I’d go with the latter. Pushing through the brush and the stick as I hugged the mountain base, I found comfort in my simple yet high probability plan. The voices quieted and my eyes were fixed back at my 45° angle. I checked up and to the right every so often as the height of the mountain lowered. Eventually I happened back onto a trail, and followed it back to the parking lot. There sat my truck, with the painted desert sky as the backdrop as the sun was taking one more look around before setting.

Confidence may take you far, but it should come from preparation. That’s the problem with pre game pep talks. Take one well intended line and run with it, and you’re out lost in the desert. This fool hearted Sunday afternoon earned me a spot on my friend’s Facebook page of endearment: My Friends as Cats. It was even more simple than it sounds. No photo manipulation, no words. He simply took cat photos from the internet that reminded him of his friends, added them to his group, and tagged you in them. When I received my notification, I clicked the link to my likeness. It was a cat looking into a mirror. And looking back at the cat was a lion.