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The First Water Hike
By Regan Gawan   
Rated "G" by the Author.
Last edited: Monday, December 01, 2008
Posted: Monday, December 01, 2008

Short Story of a hike into the Superstition Wilderness of Arizona

THE FIRST WATER HIKE

Went for a helicopter ride one Saturday morning in Janaury of 2008 with John, the owner of the company I work for, my son TJ and his fiancée’ Melanie. We flew up the Salt River, over the lakes, around Weavers Needle and the Superstition Mountains. I remarked that I was meeting some girlfriends at First Water for a hike later in the morning.. and so John flew us over that too.

I hadn’t hiked First Water in at least 20 years. I met up with Robin and Farleigh and her young step son, Sebastian, at the Trail Head and we started out about noon. There was lots of water flowing in the washes and creeks and the desert was green and gorgeous. Farleigh and Sebastian hiked with us for a couple of hours then they turned and hiked back as they had other commitments. Robin and I decided to continue on around the trial loop. It was a beautiful day, and the weather was perfect. We got involved in conversation, picture taking, and enjoying the day.

I noticed at one point and joked to Robin that somebody must have moved Weavers Needle. It was in front of us, on the right and I thought it should have been behind us on the left. That should have been my first clue that we zigged when we should have zagged. By now it was getting late in the day and we were loosing daylight. But we were confident that we were on the home stretch and would certainly be back before dark.

As the sun slowly descended behind us, it turned the canyon wall in front of us to the most beautiful blaze of glowing orange rock I had ever seen. As I snapped pictures of the amazing sight, a little voice in my head was trying to tell me that the sun should probably not be setting behind us, as that meant we were heading east when we should have been heading west…but I shushed that little voice and kept snapping pictures.

We finally reached the marker that we thought should mark the end of our trail… but it wasn’t. It was only then that we realized we had been hiking the wrong direction and were miles from where we should be. We had no flashlights, no fire, were low on water, and were not dressed for cold. The sun was almost gone, and the temperature was dropping, and now we had to retrace our steps and hike back to the trail head in the dark.

Striking out on the trail again, we believed we would make it out without too much trouble as long as we didn’t loose the trail. The sun was completely gone now and it was a new moon and too dark to see anything well. There were places along they way where were not sure if we had the trail or not. At these spots I used the weak light from my digital camera to scour the ground for tracks while Robin picked up clods of earth and sniffed them to see if it was manure from the many horses that are ridden along the same trail. Her method worked much better than mine.

It was getting colder and Robin had run out of water, so I shared mine with her as she had shared her M&M’s with me. Every now and then we called out “hello” in the hope that maybe there was somebody else still out there with a flash light to make our trek easier and safer.

I admit to a few moments of mild panic. I envisioned bobcats jumping out of the dark and making a meal of us, or of losing the trail and hiking in circles all night, or worst of all, being on the evening news as the unprepared hikers who got lost in the Superstitions and needed to be rescued! But I pushed these thoughts out of my head, silently thanked the higher powers that be for protection and guidance, and then sang Janis Joplin’s “Mercedes Benz” out loud. The singing was as much to make me feel better as to scare away any lurking wild animals.

After miles and miles of hiking, we finally made it back to the trail head. Cold, tired, and sore, we hugged each other in relief. Knowing the guys would be worried about us but having no phone signal yet to call them, we drove as fast as we could back to civilization. Robin’s husband, Tony, had already been to the trail head once to check on us and, having found Robins truck all alone in the deserted parking lot, decided a search was in order. He had gone home, hastily gathered food, water, coats, flashlights, and blankets and was on his way out the door again when he received my phone call that we were okay.

Sam was not totally convinced that we were in any real trouble or in need of any assistance, yet. In fact, he had not even gotten out of his recliner when he got my call, but he said he had spoken to Tony on the phone and told him that he was going to call authorities, as well as join in the search if he did not receive word that we were safe in a time frame comfortable to him. I have to say that I have mixed feelings about that. Mostly, it gives me a certain satisfaction to know that he has so much confidence in my wilderness survival skills, but I am also just a little indignant that, unlike Tony, Sam did not come racing to my rescue like the proverbial knight in shining armor, riding his white steed to rescue his damsel in distress.

As I reflect on this experience, I can see that it was full of important lessons that I should already have known, such as always be prepared for anything, pay attention to gut instincts, and always bring plenty of water and M&M’s when hiking in the desert. However, not in spite of, but because of the misadventures, this hike with my friend Robin will live forever in my memory as one of the best. The unexpected adventure, the hint of danger, the touch of fear, the relief and the humor of it all somehow mixed together to sharpen my senses, bring the world into the right perspective and remind me of what’s really important in my life. I am truly grateful.