I must have passed by Picacho Peak a million times since childhood, during road trips between Phoenix and Tucson, either as a child riding in the backseat of my parents' car or as an adult driving myself between these two cities to visit loved ones. I never thought that, one day, I would actually see it from a different angle: from its summit.

John had also seen Picacho Peak a million times, although he usually saw it from altitude or under canopy. He had heard that there were some really challenging trails there, and that fascinated him. Then, after we had purchased our "Trail Bible", he found the Hunter Trail, a 3.5 mile long trail that goes all the way to the top of the mountain. It is listed as a difficult trail in that some portions have cables set up for climbing. After reading that, John and I both decided that we had to do it.

We had been spending the weekend in Eloy because there was a skydiving boogie going on - that meant cheap jump tickets and free beer after the last jump. (Actually, John didn't have to pay for any of his jumps because he had been asked to coach for Skydive University that day.) Saturday night, John and I sat in the hanger and drank cup after cup of the free beer. I never thought for a moment that I would feel like death warmed over in the morning.

So, naturally, I had a draft beer hangover Sunday morning, but I forced myself out of bed at five o'clock anyway, only because I really wanted to do that hike.

Our plan was to be at the trailhead by six a.m. so that we would be finished with the trail before it hit one hundred degrees outside. Since we were at John's motor home in Eloy, we were only minutes from Picacho Peak, which gave us time to recover from the effects of the draft beer and to get ready for our hike. However, as we were preparing to leave, John took a moment to push the beds back towards the wall, and as he did so, his finger slid along the paneling, catching a three-quarter inch long splinter under his fingernail! He was in horrible pain, but no matter what he did, he could not remove it. I immediately suggested that I take him to the emergency room in Casa Grande to have the splinter removed by a professional, because if it stayed there, it would eventually cause an infection. As the pain subsided, John insisted that he didn't need to go right away. He opted to hike first; then, if he needed to, he would go to the emergency room. I agreed, so we left for the trailhead, a half an hour later than expected.

After paying our fee at Picacho State Park, John and I parked at the trailhead and began hiking the Hunter Trail. The first mile of the trail is very strenuous as it switchbacks all the way up the side of the mountain. I was cursing draft beer all the way uphill because my hangover was screaming at me by that point - I vowed never to drink again before hiking.

The trail leveled out towards the top, and it was there that we found an alcove and what we called "Penis Rock": a phallic rock that protruded from the base of the cave. That produced a whole series of jokes, and John made sure to take a picture of me sitting on it.

After the first mile, we arrived at the saddle. We had read in the trail guide that once we climbed over the saddle of Picacho Peak, there would be silence...and it was completely true. During the hike up the switchbacks, we could hear all of the noise from Interstate 10. Then, after descending from the saddle, we could only hear the sounds of nature -- the chirping of birds, the buzzing of insects, and the sound of the wind blowing.

That was also when the fun began. To descend from the saddle, we had to hike down a steep slope with the assistance of cables, which had been hammered into the mountain. For this part of the trail, it was recommended that we wear gloves because the cables could leave painful blisters on our hands. I put on John's workman's gloves, and John had purchased a new pair of skydiving gloves. Gripping the cables, we lowered ourselves down the slope then continued around the mountain to the other side.

There were, of course, other points along the trail that were equipped with cables, one of which was a vertical climb upwards. To do so required careful planning of each step and the ability to use the arms for pulling the body up the slope. John and I relied on our rock-climbing skills to see us to the top of the hill; and when we made it to the top of the obstacle, I was very proud of myself for having accomplished it.

At eight in the morning, we reached the summit of Picacho Peak; I proudly ran up the last switchback and leapt to the peak in victory, because I felt as though I had conquered the mountain!

The view from Picacho was incredible, but the morning haze made it difficult to see past certain points. I, of course, spied the Dairy Queen and promised John that I would buy him ice cream after finishing the trail -- as medicine for his injured finger.

We lingered for a bit to eat Power Bars and to watch planes fly overhead; each time we saw a small plane, we wondered if it was a Skydive Arizona plane. We also watched the birds circling overhead. Soon, just before we left, the sparrows began to dive bomb us; they flew by us so fast that we could hear the "whoosh" of their wings. We decided that it was time to get out of their flight path and descend from the mountain.

To return to the car, we took the "scenic route": the Sunset Vista Trail, which begins towards the summit of Picacho Peak and ends after five miles at a trailhead...which was another two miles from the car. The Sunset Vista Trail consists of one sharp descent that is cabled. Then it switchbacks down the mountain towards the bottom. Once at the base of Picacho, the trail continues all the way around the mountain, climbing up and over ridges and down through washes as it winds through the low desert, which does not provide much shade to protect from the hot desert sun. It was also a rather boring trail compared to what we had just accomplished.

By the time we reached the Sunset Vista Trailhead, John was dragging. He was tired and had run out of water; and on top of that, his finger was throbbing with pain. I had gotten my second wind, so I set the pace as we walked the road back to the car. It took a little less than an hour to reach the Hunter Trailhead, at which time John was so fatigued that I had to drive. As I had promised, I bought him ice cream at Dairy Queen; then I took him to the Urgent Care facility in Casa Grande, where he had the splinter removed from his finger.

While waiting in the emergency room, I noticed a sign that read "Fast Track Urgent Care". "Honey, they have a special room just for your skydiving team!" I joked. He thought that was so great that he took a picture of the sign.

It took over an hour for the doctors to pull the splinter, and they had to numb up his hand in order to do so. That meant that skydiving was out for the rest of the day because he wouldn't have been able to feel his brakes. (He was supposed to do some more coaching for Skydive University that afternoon, however, the winds had picked up, meaning that the students couldn't jump anyway.) After saying our good-byes at the Drop Zone, John and I drove home and spent the rest of the day in our bathrobes.

Return to Naked in the Woods.