What I’d do for a Lemonade Stand in the Desert?!

Post 42

The gates of hell are apparently right outside the massive sprawl of Arizona’s largest metropolitan city. The residents of Phoenix live in a furnace that butts right up to an unforgiving devilish landscape that towers over the Eastern horizon of the city. Everything about this place screams of a land that man should avoid at all cost. Even the name it was given by the resilient original settlers evoke ideas of malevolent demons or ghastly consequences for those who venture into the wilderness. This is a little place called the Superstition Mountains. It’s a scorched landscape screaming for respite from the heat of the desert sun, splintered topography and ill-tempered flora. The cinnamon colored crumbling spires of rock that form the mountains rise up in a ghoulish manner resembling the wicked fortress of Castle Grayskull from my childhood memories. This fiendish scene is amplified by the stoic Saguaro cacti that loom on the hillsides like sentinels standing guard against unwelcome trespassers.  

I’m of course exaggerating a little, but still I’d be willing to bet that many unfortunate souls in the past stumbled into this unforgiving terrain only to meet a disagreeable end. With an early start to our hike, our plans were to avoid this unfavorable outcome and find a way to enjoy the beauty of the harsh desert.

I’m as guilty as much as the next eager hiker to be swayed in my trail selection by a good ol’ loop hike. After all why would anyone want to retrace their steps on an out-and-back hike, or even worse have to worry about the planning and logistics of shuttling a car from one trailhead to the next. Yep, loop hikes are where it’s at, right Actually more often than not they are just the most convenient option, but rarely are they the prettiest hike in any given area. The most aesthetic routes are usually those long shuttle hikes that place you deep in the wilderness where only the most devote or hardcore backpackers have the time and desire to reach. But for the ease of a day hike, loop trails tend to be the most popular itineraries. Believe it or not, trail designers and park superintendents know this. Why do you think almost all our National Parks contain some form of a scenic loop drive? People don’t like to backtrack.

Taking this instinctive need to walk in a circle into account I foolishly  planned a 13 mile loop in the Superstition Wilderness. My planned route would link three trails together bringing us back to our starting point at the Peralta Canyon trailhead. Having done my research and learned that this canyon is one of the most scenic and popular hikes in the area we were excited to explore the beguiling foreign setting. However, a 13 mile trek is no small day hike and the lengthy milage would end up stretching our ideal cool morning hours into the stifling heat of the day. Add to the fact that it became glaringly obvious that the second half of my planned loop took us on a seldom used and even more infrequently maintained path, which slowed our progress substantially.

There is a bastard of a bush that resides in the feverish climate and barren world of the Southwest. Without having any prior knowledge of this dirtbag desert plant, judging by it’s cute name, one would imagine it to be a novel, bizarre or perhaps zany plant. The creative name this despicable plant goes by is the Wait-a-Minute bush. Based off of its whimsical moniker, you might infer it to be an innocuous plant or at it’s worst maybe a slight nuisance. You’d be wrong on all accounts. The overgrown neglected trail we found ourselves on became choked by overhanging Wait-a-Minute bushes, or as I began to call them *** **** ******* ***** *** bushes.

Their unpretentious thorns dug in to any and all pieces of clothing or skin that was unlucky enough to cross their path. Like razor sharp canine incisors they efficiently sliced, jabbed, poked and probed our tender pink flesh. It became clear that we were trespassing on the Wait-a-Minute bush’s land and the toll that the evil bush required wasn’t of the cash variety. It levied its fee in bits of clothing, fabric and blood. When the plants tiny thorns grabbed ahold of you they required your immediate attention. And it wasn’t a polite nonchalant please wait a minute as the name would imply, but more like a kick to the scrotum during a soccer match, you’re not going anywhere.