The class consisted of all male students who easily fell in step behind him. I pulled up the rear. I was the only female on the trek. I wondered how I was going to keep up with them for this week - long trek. They all looked hardy and a lot more fit than I. 

 I had taken some healing courses at Reevis Mountain and thought that now I needed to learn how to survive in the desert, just in case I got stranded sometime. A simple decision but, as we started to plow into the thickets and down the trail into the mountains, I wondered how sane I was when I made the commitment to go on the trek.

 We were allowed one pound of food and one quart of water. That was it. We had to forage for everything else we needed during the time we were out. Before we started, leader Peter had gone through our packs, tossing many 

items out.  

 In my pack, he frowned upon and pitched my toothpaste, hair brush, any high-energy bars and a host of munchies and toiletries. I let him toss out everything except when he came to my toiletries. “No!” I groaned. I envisioned myself having to make do with stiff coarse wild plant leaves or worse. 

 “All right,” he said with a slightly amused grin on his face.

 We stuffed our packs with the “proper items,” departed the ranch house and headed up the trail, Peter Bigfoot in the lead. Nicknamed “Bigfoot” for his feet needing size fourteen shoes, a commodity not easily found. In his truly self-sufficient manner, he made his own shoes using tire treads for soles and leathers from dubious different animals. His long gait was a challenge to keep up with but I was determined to be part of the pack. 

 From the initial side glances the men trekkers gave me, I felt it would be a challenge for me to prove myself. However, I was determined to achieve the best performance possible.

We foraged and ate the wild foods that we had learned about earlier and I saw that it took less food to feel satisfied. Less concerns of city life mattered as well as less concerns about who I should be, what I should be doing. It seemed healthy to only pay attention to what was happening in my next step. Living in the now -- moment by moment -- one step at a time -- made me much more aware and grateful for being on the trail. My feet in their sturdy hiking boots became my friends and each step of the trek became my teacher. 

 Four days later, we were getting low on water. I kept having thoughts of digging holes or sucking on barrel cacti we hacked down. The thought sounded austere. 

 It was midday; the sun fiercely pierced down. We walked in silence with our mouths closed to preserve our moisture. Time clicked slowly by but suddenly, I saw a glint off to the left of me in the distance. I stopped and gazed over in that direction.

 There it was again. Like a mirror reflecting just a hint of something shiny. I walked over to the Palo Verde tree about 200 yards away. To my surprise, there was a large canteen – the old-fashioned kind with fabric covering the wide sides of a metal, round container and a heavy webbed wide strap. It was wedged into the crevice of the tree. I pulled it out and found it was over half full of water! And when I opened the top and took a drink, the water was cool. 

“How can this be?” I thought. Then I saw a name on it. It was the surname of my mate! I recalled that, just before I was leaving home for the trek, my significant partner at that time said, “I wish I could know you will be okay. I wish there was something I could do to help you on your trek.”

 He wasn’t an outdoor kind of person so I could not imagine anything he could do to be helpful. So, I assured him I would be in good hands and that I would be fine.

I looked again. Yes, there it was on the side of the canteen. His surname was definitely printed boldly in black block lettering. 

 I was surprised to find that canteen and stunned to find the name on it.

 How that happened I cannot say but that day, I experienced something beyond my normal understanding and was reassured that all our real needs can be met -- even when there is 

no water.