Intermission

Michelle’s travel journal

Scottsdale Arizona

 

You know how a restaurant that serves spicy Mexican or Chinese food will denote the intensity of the heat in a dish with the number of hot peppers in a column beside the menu item?  One pepper denotes a bit of zip.  Three peppers may be short-form for 3-alarm fire.  The server will often ask:  “Are you sure?” before taking your 3-alarm order.

 

Well, it seems that there is a similar rating scale for hikes in Arizona.  We were staying in five-star luxury at the Fairmont Princess hotel in Scottsdale.  Icy lemonade cooled us as we lounged by the vast swimming pool post conference.  We had enjoyed dinner and dancing under the stars.  There was no chance of rain and perfect evening temperatures.  When we went out shopping, we had been misted to keep cool like perishable fruit.  The winter weary, sun-starved Canadians that we were, we had somehow managed to forget the fact that it was May and we were there in the Sonoran desert, and that the temperature routinely hit 100 degrees.

 

I had been busy with the conference, but Tom was tasked with arranging a hike for our last day—a Saturday.  He had consulted the Concierge’s directories and made arrangement for an early morning pick up.

 

Promptly at 6:30 AM our guide arrived.  Two more fit young men joined us when we made a stop on our way out of town.  I expressed some surprise that there were three guides for the two of us—the price for the excursion had been quite reasonable.  Our guide said something about the fact that he didn’t get to do this hike very often and his friends wanted to come out for exercise.  I should have asked myself:  “Are you sure?” at this point.  The first cactus loomed.

 

We reached the base of Flat Iron and got ready for the ascent.  Water bottles and frozen drinks go into the packs.  I get handed a pair of gloves.  I remember thinking: “Why would I need gloves for a hike?  Isn’t the definition of hike something like:  To go on an extended walk for pleasure or exercise?” I had blocked out its alternate meaning:  To pull or raise with a sudden motion; hitch.”  The second cactus was staring me down.

 

I had hiking boots suitable for walking in Canada–dark heavy waterproof things.  The guides had sand-colored hiking shoes.  Tom, the love of my life my partner in all adventures, gallantly offered to carry my extra water and lighten my load.  Off we went.

 

After some of our hikes in other parts of the world, it looked like a piece of cake.  Dry and smooth underfoot.  No scree, no boulder hopping. 

 

The grade got steeper.  About halfway up Tom, usually a perpetual motion machine, started coughing and hacking and stopped. The bronchitis, he had been recovering from was reasserting itself.  He and one of the guides stepped aside for a break and so I carried on up the mountain with one of the other fellows.

 

No scree, no boulder hopping, true.  But now I noticed:  No shade.  No mercy.  The unrelenting sun was now high in the sky and beating down.

 

No water.  Tom had the extra water, my water.  Tom was nowhere to be seen.  “ARE YOU VERY, VERY SURE?”  my mind screamed.

 

The guide and I were now near the summit.  This was what the gloves were for.  My face and body get close up and intimate with the rock face.  I did as my guide did using hand and foot holds to pull myself to the top.  “Success”, I said to myself.  I pushed away the negative thoughts that were close behind:  “How are you going to get down from here?”

 

My guide was generous with the fresh fruit remaining in his pack, so my bleached bones don’t grace Flat Iron in perpetuity

 

We descended the way we came up.  If anything, I hugged the rocks closer to me on the way down.  When we reached Tom and guide, we found them refreshed, having taken shelter in a shady crag. 

 

My first question was not:  “Are you okay?  I was worried about you.” My dusty lips did not reach out to kiss his moist ones.

 

My first thoughts were not charitable I am afraid.  “You have my water!”  “ You were trying to kill me!”  I rasped.

 

We made our peace on the way down, and celebrated a successful hike at a Mexican restaurant.  Three cactus and a few beer.