THE REDEMPTION TRAIL

PHOTOS AND ARTICLE BY ROB BETTASO

This past July, I took two long hikes along well-established trails in the headwater country of the Little Colorado River (LCR). Both trips were within the same Wilderness Area on our National Forest lands. Both trips started at approximately 9,300 feet in elevation and went as high as 11,000 feet in elevation. Each trip included over 13 miles of roundtrip hiking. Both trips traversed gorgeous landscapes and diverse habitats. All of that said, I can add that one of the trips went rather well, while the other was nearly a disaster. Let me now elaborate.

I’m happy to say that, in the latter half of my 60’s, I still enjoy occasional, fairly vigorous exertion in the form of hiking, biking, and cross-country skiing. Don’t get me wrong, mostly I engage in mellow strolls and gentle bike rides -- enjoying both Nature and getting the old, “40-Weight” blood moving through the system.

My main reason for not taking more frequent hard hikes (lots of miles and/or very steep and rugged terrain) is that my knees have reached the point where they can start hurting fairly suddenly and quite intensely. Suffice it to say, I don’t exactly relish the idea of being choppered out of remote country. Nor would I ever want to put anyone through the ordeal of having to improvise a stretcher and schlepp my carcass back to the trailhead.

That said, the siren call of a high mountain view or the distant back-country, is, at times, irresistible; especially when one of my friends says: “Hey, I’m gonna go check out a little-known natural spring, but, it’ll be about a 12 mile round-trip hike, do ya’ wanna’ join me?” Under those circumstances, I generally can’t resist the “call of the wild.” Typically, when I know ahead of time that I will be embarking on a demanding hike, as long as I am both mentally and physically prepared, I am enthusiastic about participating.

So, what do I mean when I say that I must be “mentally and physically prepared?” Well, let’s start with being physically prepared (and granted, for you hard-core fitness buffs, I readily acknowledge that what I’m about to describe may sound like a litany of pre-emptive excuses, but, at my age, I consider them vital considerations). First, I need to be in a prolonged spell of not experiencing any significant aches or pains in known weak points; for me, this primarily means both of my knees and my lower back. Second, I need to be in general good health (i.e., feeling well-rested, well-hydrated, well-nourished, and free of any energy-sapping illnesses). Third, I need to have time to properly consider the site we are going to (looking at maps and weather forecasts, for example) and have plenty of time to pack properly (sufficient, but not extravagant, amounts of food and water; survival gear; first-aid supplies; maps and GPS; appropriate apparel and footwear; and, last but not least, the compression sleeves that I wear on my knees for longer or trickier hikes).

And by “mentally prepared,” I mean that I need to be in the right frame of mind for the type of outing I am planning to undertake. Generally, being mentally prepared includes having a positive attitude but also being realistic about my abilities and being focused on achieving my goals. I also need to know that the person (or people) that I’ll be hiking with are also physically and mentally prepared, experienced, and enjoyable company. Perhaps by now, I’m sounding like quite the “hot-house flower,” but, for any readers that are “over a certain age,” well, I’m guessing that you can relate.

Let me now briefly described my first hike: the one that did not go well. Two days before the outing, a friend called and asked if I wanted to go birding and hiking in the LCR drainage. Knowing that I would likely see some birds I don’t often see in the Pinetop/Show Low area, I responded that I’d be thrilled to go. We set our departure from town at a leisurely 6:30 AM and agreed that we would return in the afternoon, at no specific time but such that we should each bring a light lunch to eat on the trail. I specifically asked if we would be doing any hard hiking or climbing, and, since the answer was a clear “no,” I only brought two liters of water. Since my friend and I take such combination birding/hiking excursions at least once a month, I knew that two liters were about the right amount if we hiked our typical 4-8 miles, even given the fact that we would be at higher elevations than we normally hike.

Right off the bat, the birding was good; despite the fact that we didn’t hit the trail until nearly 8 AM on a hot and sunny day. We quickly found a family of American Dippers – a semi-aquatic songbird that bird watchers in the arid Southwest come to the high-country streams to find. We continued to stroll along the streambanks and in rapid succession found a Green-tailed Towhee and a Lincoln Sparrow; both species occur in a variety of habitats and at varying elevations, but, they are both luscious songsters and quite attractive in both plumage and in their behaviors.

For whatever reason, we opted to not stay along the stream and instead returned to the well-traveled hiking trail. For a while, we hiked and were content to hear other high-elevation birds (Clark’s Nutcrackers, Hermit Thrushes, and Red-breasted Nuthatches) but we didn’t spend as much time birding as I had thought we would and instead quickly covered ground so as to get out of the open country (with its intense sunlight) and up to where the trail is surrounded on all sides by tall, shade-providing conifers.

Before long, it seemed like we had abandoned any pretense of birding and simply started a fast and serious uphill pace. My friend seemed to be intent on “making time” and since I was feeling fairly strong, I followed willingly, even though such a determined march was absolutely NOT what I had in mind when I packed for the trip. To cut to the chase, let me just say that at some point we both seemed to be compelled by a dangerous combination of: first, a “what’s-around-the-next-bend” mindset; later, a case of “summit fever” (much more so for my friend, than me); and finally, foolish pride (much more so for me, than my friend).

We made it to 11,000 feet in elevation when I firmly decided that it was reckless for me to have gone this far, as I was running low on water and my knees and back were hurting. My friend went a bit further while I rested, and when we reunited, we turned around and started the long slog back downhill (always much more difficult on my knees than the ascent). By now, of course, it was early afternoon and quite hot. To make this story less long than the trail we hiked, let me now just say that about halfway down I ran out of water and quickly began to feel light-headed. A mile or so past that, I began to suddenly feel very nauseous. At first, I attributed the light-headedness to my having forgotten to take my daily B-12 (which I take for “pernicious anemia” – something I was diagnosed with a few years back). But when the nausea commenced, I began to think I was either sick with a bug that was just now kicking in, or, I was in one of the stages of dehydration and/or heat exhaustion.

Fortunately, my buddy stuck with me and offered me water, his hiking poles, and also invited me to put some of my gear into his pack-back. However, since I didn’t want to deplete his water, didn’t want to use poles, and had a very light pack, I didn’t initially take him up on any of these kind offers. Instead, I pushed myself and by the time we got to within a half-mile of the vehicle, I nearly collapsed and told him that I would have to rest in some of the sparse shade for as long as it took for me to recover my strength. At this point, he stopped letting me call the shots and simply said: “Yes, you rest and I’m going to hike down to the truck and get you some more water.”

Suffice it to say, thanks to my friend, we finally made it out. I felt weak and dizzy the whole ride home and then immediately headed for bed once I entered my house. I stayed up long enough to drink a bunch of water and then fell into a deep and long sleep. When I awoke, I was still woozy and was also suffering from a terrible back-ache, but I knew the worst was over and so I got up and ate, watched TV, and before long fell back into another sound slumber – this one lasted up until the first light of the next day.

When I awoke I was happy to discover that none of my muscles hurt (other than a dull ache in my lower back). Additionally, both knees were tender but without any acute pains. After my morning coffee and toast, I felt good enough to take a bike ride and after cycling I concluded that a) since I didn’t feel weak, I doubted that I had been suffering from a flu or other illness; b) that I hadn’t done any significant damage to my body; and that c) all of yesterday’s second-half-of-the-hike miseries must have primarily been due to dehydration (which meant, that I had been foolish by not being properly prepared).

Naturally, I was ashamed of myself for my poor hike preparation, and, within a few days, I swore that I would redeem myself by taking a very similar hike in the same general area. When I asked my hiking bud if he would be willing to do such a hike, he said “Sure” and so within a week’s time, we were off again for the LCR, leaving Pinetop at 5:30 AM, an hour earlier than before. We also brought another friend with us and, this time around, all of us were well-prepared to execute our very specific plans for the day.

The second hike lasted about as long as the first, but it was much cooler weather (threatening rain for the entire second half of the journey). We hiked earnestly, but not with grim determination, and we enjoyed conversation, wildlife watching, and the overall scenery for our entire 9-hour trek. Because of the possibility of lightning, our descent was significantly more rapid than it would have been had it been clear, but, I had my compression sleeves on and the only time I felt any significant knee pain was when I obliviously rammed my upper tibia into a stout branch that had fallen across the trail.

When we returned to the truck, we were all grateful for not only having achieved our goal, but also for having done so while simultaneously feeling healthy and very happy. We pulled out of the parking area and within a matter of minutes, the rain finally began to fall.