Hiking with Bill
Who is Bill, you ask? Bill is my next door neighbor and someone I would call a serious hiker. He has volunteered to build trails here in Prescott, recently served on Search & Rescue, and hikes multiple days a week. Since we get along well and do many activities with our wives, the discussion of going on a multi-day “guys only” outing eventually came up. There is nothing quite like a guys trip where there is space between sentences. We wanted something not too strenuous…in other words, fairly flat and not too long.
We set a goal to take a several day backpacking trip through Buckskin Gulch along the Arizona-Utah border. It would require a wilderness permit. Like so many outdoor activities to popular locations, permits are necessary for Buckskin Gulch. We tried the online system which requires one to be on the computer at the precise second the applications start and hit the button Jeopardy style. Our reflexes, among other things, aren’t what they used to be, so we lost out.
Therein came our alternate plan. It was about four hours additional drive to the trailhead for Hurricane Wash and Coyote Gulch in Southern Utah. No advance permit was required. This trip required a 42 mile drive down infamous Hole-in-the-Rock Road. The Mormons navigated this area in 1880. I am sure it wasn’t an easy task. It’s still not that easy going over the constant washboard surface in a passenger car at 15 miles per hour. Having experience with the road, I knew that my Nissan Titan 4x4 could handle it better at 45 mph, just fast enough to not let the tires drop into the bottom of every rut. If you try this, make sure your nuts are tight (on your vehicle) and wear a mouth guard to protect your teeth.
We explored Dancehall Rock the first evening (the Mormons partied there). These two guys in their late seventies set off from the nearby trailhead fairly early the next morning. We were told to carry at least four liters of water since their would be none for seven miles. That added nine pounds to the twenty five or thirty already in our packs. Knowing this ahead of time led me to really refine my packing. No razor, only little containers of personal hygiene items you find in the travel section at Walgreens. Fewer, thin underwear than what I wear at home and lightweight UV shirts. Only one pair of pants, the ones over my legs…risky in your seventies, but I had to do take a chance.
As a photographer, I had to make some decisions based upon what I expected to find. I purchased an lightweight tripod. This saved me three pounds. Coyote Gulch has a huge arch called Jacob Hamblin Arch. Bill renamed it Jamblin’ Arch just to save us from long conversations. The arch and all the walls towered above us. I determined I could get away with just one lens, saving several more pounds and valuable space in my pack.
As a photographer, I had to make some decisions based upon what I expected to find. I purchased an lightweight tripod. This saved me three pounds. Coyote Gulch has a huge arch called Jacob Hamblin Arch. Bill renamed it Jamblin’ Arch just to save us from long conversations. The arch and all the walls towered above us. I determined I could get away with just one lens, saving several more pounds and valuable space in my pack.
One thing you don’t want to do is sacrifice sleeping comfort. Despite the mild weather, I took my 40 year old North Face tent, not knowing the mosquito situation, and forgetting that its smell is somewhere between noxious and burnt motor oil. A lightweight sleeping bag, backpacker air mattress and wadded heavy shirt (for a pillow) completed my house of comfort.
We each carried some parachute cord. Bill used his to tie his food bag up on a small tree branch. It seemed like a good idea since my research had mentioned critters, including ravens, that would actually unzip backpacks to get at food. My choice was to challenge the critters with the double zippers it took to get into my tent. Of course, this would have been a very bad idea if bears could have been in the area.
They say freeze-dried food is pretty good these days. That’s because “they” either had Mountain House freeze-dried food back in the ‘70s (when it must have been developed to weed out astronaut candidates and was a step above WWII rations) or they just got out of prison. Nevertheless, it is the lightest stuff you can carry, so Bill and I each brought several dinners for two. They weren’t to share. We knew we would be starving and eat more than we should. We did! That freeze dried stuff requires lots of water. We carried a small water filtration device to make sure our water was safe and we boiled the water with our small camp stoves because that’s what you pour over flavored cardboard squares. Again, we each carried our own stoves just to prove we were still in shape.
We were both happy with oatmeal for breakfast. I did splurge on some great crackers from Sprouts and those almond butter packs for lunch. Bill decided on a big bag of Costco trail mix.
I was taking my combo backpacking/camera bag and it was running out of space. I reduced my clothing even more. Who really changes their underwear and socks every day on a backpacking trip, anyway?
Knowing that you can never trust your digestive system as you get older, I took an extra wag bag. You may not know what that is. Wag bags are required in highly trafficked back country areas to reduce waste, so to speak. A big problem was how to use it. There aren’t instructions attached. Not even a label stating "For Single Use, Only." There were many other people in the area and almost no cover for privacy. I wondered if it could be used with one hand, since balance is getting to be a bigger issue for me and support from a nearby rock could avoid a life changing event. Toppling over while squatting over a wag bag would not be a pretty picture. Using a wag bag in the privacy of a one-person tent would be a high risk activity. The thought of having to sleep in an area of waste fallout was not appealing. It is these times when you are thankful for constipation.
We were really quite proud of our tired selves when we arrived at camp, right under Jamblin’ Arch. It was beautiful. Coyote Creek ran right by us and fresh spring water just a few hundred yards away. We rested, chatted and generally just enjoyed our surroundings.
We were really quite proud of our tired selves when we arrived at camp, right under Jamblin’ Arch. It was beautiful. Coyote Creek ran right by us and fresh spring water just a few hundred yards away. We rested, chatted and generally just enjoyed our surroundings.
One of our camp stoves wouldn’t light that evening. It was a fuel canister problem. So we were going to have to share after all. After a bit of problem solving, we smacked our lips around each bite of reconstituted card stock flavored Mushroom Risotto and annealed Spanish Rice with Beef. It was delicious! The unnecessary extra weight the second stove was far from our minds.
Sleeping without a memory foam mattress is not something I relish. My level of tiredness, however, resulted in a reasonably comfortable night sleep. Dehydration from the day’s hike dried me up enough that the usual four trips to the bathroom was reduced to one trip to the bushes. Bill’s night was not so good. His air mattress worked for about 30 seconds. The rest of the night was on a rather rocky bed of sand. Bill was further justifying my opinion that he is a real man. He basically did not complain, just let me know his air mattress was not holding air. I tried not to let him know how bad I felt for him so as not to diminish his manliness.
This left us with some choices. Was I going to offer Bill my good air mattress so we could balance the good and bad sleep nights? Absolutely not! We were going to have to cut our trip short. The problem with this is that I (in particular) had a goal to hike another three miles downstream on that second day to see and photograph Swiss Cheese Falls and Coyote Arch. I wasn’t about to think I could do this trip a second time. Bill agreed that we could do the hike in the morning, then hike out of the canyon in the afternoon after a bit of rest.
The hike downstream was very relaxing. Eventually we got to Coyote Arch where Bill sat and enjoyed the canyon while I took a few photos. The Coyote Arch blocks the canyon like a roadblock for fugitives., essentially forcing everything to pass through it. That is exactly what a raven did…it was the only raven I saw in the canyon on our entire trip. He looked very happy, but not at all like a fugitive.
When we got back to camp, it was time for lunch. Bill went for his trail mix. The bag was torn open and empty. I don’t doubt that the culprit was a very overweight black bird we had seen 90 minutes earlier. Again, I was faced with having Bill buck it up and starve or sharing some of my vittles. This time I shared.
By two o’clock we had added nine pounds of filtered water into our packs and headed out. The first mile out seemed twice as long as the last mile coming in. The last mile out seemed 50 times harder than the first mile coming in. Our hike earlier that day, now hiking uphill, or should I say trudging, through sand and gravel, and the intensify afternoon heat all contributed to a very tough hike for two old guys.
Distance athletes learn various distraction techniques to get themselves through challenges. Neither of us were consider ourselves athletes, but we were using some of their techniques. At some point, I started counting our strides. “Stride” is a misnomer for me, but not for Bill. He has long legs. I think they end just below his shoulders. Bill wears a size thirteen boot and I wear size 12. I noticed that I took more steps than him over a certain period of time but could not gain ground. No wonder I was tired. He wasn’t working as hard as I was! Also, if his heel went down the same place as mine, he would gain about 3/8 inch at his toes with every step. This was hardly fair. I started feeling sorry for my beautiful wife whose long legs at five feet one are no match for normal legs at close to six feet of height. This sports psychology stuff wasn’t working for me. I considered slowing down and gasping more loudly more to work on Bill’s sympathy nerve… or at least to slow him down. But we have hearing issues and even gasping would take more effort. He would get there before me and have to wait since I had the car key. Or I would die and he would come back for my key. Nothing worked to make it easier. It was grueling.
It did help to remember that Bill has a bad hip and he wasn’t complaining about it. And that he is a year and a half older than I am. I know it isn’t a contest, but Bill is quite an old guy. I should have been able to keep up. The thought of burgers and beer at Escalante Outfitters were on each of our minds without speaking about it and I do believe that is the only thing that cold get us through, especially a cold beer.
Eventually we made it out. Two old coots had hiked six miles without packs and seven miles with 35 pound packs, including our unused wag bags. We were pretty proud of ourselves (about completing the hike, not about the wag bags) and very tired. Bill said, “I’m giving away my backpack.” I can’t give away mine because it carries all my camera gear most of the time.
Life is about memories and at a time when you can’t remember lots of things, its great to have some new ones. I’ll always remember hiking with my friend Bill.
RS
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