Our day began with a trip to Tonto Natural Bridge; John had been promising to take me there for about a month, because it was a curiosity that I really needed to see. Finally, we set aside a day to go there.

The road to the Tonto Bridge is just off of Highway 87, between Payson and Strawberry. It is a steep road (about a thirteen percent grade) that switchbacks all the way to Pine Creek, where the bridge is situated. John said that the last time he was there, the road was unpaved; it seemed to have been paved recently, within the last few years.

The park itself is very well maintained, from its parking lot to its trail system consisting of three trails. John and I took two of these trails: the Gowan Loop Trail, which leads down to the bridge; and the Pine Waterfall Trail, which leads from the bridge back to the parking lot.

The Tonto Natural Bridge is just that: a natural bridge through which Pine Creek flows. Centuries of water erosion from the creek created a smooth tunnel through the stone. Visitors can go through the tunnel, but it takes some boulder hopping that can at times be challenging, as all of the boulders in Pine Creek are smooth, as if they have been polished. Of course, John and I accepted the challenge and climbed our way to the other side of the bridge. From there, we continued to boulder-hop until we found the Waterfall Trail.

The Waterfall Trail, of course, leads to a waterfall; at that point, the only place to go was up. UP? Yes, up! We had to climb up a waterfall. It wasn't as hard as it looked; it required some careful rock climbing, but it wasn't at all strenuous. As we reached the top, we found a cave with water dripping from the ceiling; a friendly lady and her two sons took a picture of us together then pointed out the way to the trailhead.

Before leaving the park, John and I stopped at the ranger station/gift shop, where we purchased the first section of what would become our "Trail Bible" - a four inch thick book of most of the trails in Arizona. (John would later buy the other four parts at Popular Outfitters - his favorite store - and put them into a four-inch binder, which would accompany us on all of our adventures.)

For lunch, we headed up to the Mogollon Rim. John turned onto FR 300 and took that to Lee Johnson Springs, a burned-out area, which gives a spectacular view of the valley below. We stopped there and ate sandwiches and macaroni salad as we admired the view. Then we found our way back to FR 300.

The goal for this trip was to take FR 300 all the way from Highway 87 to Highway 260. This involved about forty-five miles of travel on a well-maintained light-duty road. At first it didn't seem to be a problem. Then...disaster struck, and it came in the shape of a sharp rock that punctured the left front tire.

We pulled off to the side of the road to examine the damage; and without a second thought, John pulled out his toolbox and the donut spare. Within fifteen minutes, we were back on the road and continuing towards Highway 260.

Then...disaster struck again, this time in the shape of a cattle guard. We were at the halfway point of FR 300, where the Coconino National Forest ends and the Apache-Sitgreaves Forest begins, about twenty-two miles of dirt road in either direction from either highway. We hit the cattle guard at thirty miles an hour, denting the rim of the donut spare and deflating the tire. John stopped the car, looked out the window, and said, "Honey, you don't want to know."

"You blew the spare, didn't you?"

Now we were stuck. Our only hope was to flag down a passing motorist to hitch a ride into Christopher Creek or Strawberry to get a new tire. Although it was Sunday afternoon, we didn't see anyone for about twenty minutes. Finally, a man driving a Honda Civic stopped to assist us. He had all of his kids in the car, and there was only room for one of us. Instead of taking our chances that another car with room for both of us would stop, John accepted the ride from the stranger and left me alone with the car...for two hours.

It was a frightening experience for both of us. I was completely alone on the mountain, in an area that did not provide any shelter from the elements - the scene of the Dude Fire of the 1980's. There was no place for me to hide from danger, nor was there any shade to be found to protect my skin from the sun's rays. I stayed in the car and worked crossword puzzles to try to take my mind off of the situation.

After about two hours, I was getting frustrated and worried that John was not going to make it back...and I had to pee! Nearly in tears, I walked around the area and tried desperately to find an area where I could squat in private. Off in the distance, I found a small patch of trees, which would provide me with enough coverage to do my duty. I started towards them; and just as I unzipped my shorts, I saw an Oldsmobile - one with a USPA sticker in the rear window and a personalized license plate that said "ERIKA". John's parents had come to rescue us! Forgetting that I was going to relieve myself, I dashed back to the car.

At that point, John had already seen that I wasn't there, and he was worried that something had happened to me, that I had given up on him and hitched a ride back to civilization - or worse, that I had been killed! Then he saw me running towards him; with a huge sigh of relief, he hugged me tightly, saying, "Honey, I'm home!"

He told me that the man took him into Christopher Creek and dropped him off at the service station. John tried to offer him money to compensate him for the trouble, but he refused to take it. He did, however, let John buy sodas for him and his kids before leaving him. John took the tire into the service station; the mechanic told him that the tire was too badly damaged to be repaired, so he sold him a new tire. In the meantime, John tried to think of a way to get back up to the Rim to rescue me. Then he remembered that his parents had been camping on the Rim that weekend, so he called his father's cellular phone. They were in Payson at that time, getting ready to return to Phoenix because Erika had broken her ankle during a hike. However, she insisted that they rescue John and me before going for medical attention. Twenty minutes later, they were in Christopher Creek, and they took John and his new tire back up to the Rim.

John's parents followed us all the way to Highway 260 to make sure that we didn't blow another tire on FR 300. Fortunately, that was the end of our disasters for the day; once we hit paved road, we zoomed home and tried to put that frightening experience behind us. John promised that he would never leave me alone on a mountain again.

Return to Naked in the Woods.