At this point I’m beginning to fade. The constant movement of life on the road is wearing on me. I need somewhere to just BE for a few days. Rest up, regroup, and recharge the ol' batteries. I come across a campground in Tonto National Forest somewhere in Arizona. Twelve bucks a night is more than I’d like to spend on a small plot of dirt to pitch my tent. But the security of knowing it’s ok for me to be there is enough to get me to fork over $24 for two nights. It’ll be nice to set up camp, cook a proper meal and not have to be on the look out for any rangers or officers with the “you can’t do that here” mentality.
After selecting a site and setting up camp I decide to try something new. I mark my campsite on my handheld GPS and just take off into the woods. A no-trail hike! This’ll be awesome! I’ll just use the GPS to find my way back and I wont have to follow a trail that a million people have followed before me. I stomp my way through the forest in no direction in particular, just away from camp. Eventually I find my way to a clearing, then a trail, and finally a stream that’s not much more than a trickle at the moment. Dry or not it makes for swifter travel than my earlier bushwhacking so I continue to follow it down deeper into the wilderness. After 3 miles or so the hills on either side of the stream bed are slowly becoming cliffs and I decide to make my way out before it gets too steep. I use tree trunks to help pull myself up the hillside figuring I’ll climb to the top and use my gps to find a different route back to camp. But before I crest the first hill a sound stops me in my tracks. It’s a difficult sound to describe but it’s definitely animal. It doesn't strike me as particularly aggressive, but it doesn’t sound thrilled either. The first animal that comes to mind is a moose. It’s like a mewing sound, and I know moose can be dangerous so I tread more lightly as I conitue up the hill looking as far ahead of me as the foliage will allow and wondering to myself if there ever are any mouse in Arizona. I hear the noise again and a wrestle of leaves and branches not terribly far ahead of me. I freeze again remembering all the warning sign in the campground about how this is bear country. It doesn’t sound like a bear but what the fuck do I know. Right then I spot movement and a very large, black form obscured by the trees. Shit. I try not to move as a drop of sweat trickles down my back. From my position I can tell it’s a big animal and it’s on four legs. Well, at least it’s not a fuckin big foot. Then I imagine my obituary in the paper…..Eric Skala: Mauled by bear. Last Words: At least it wasn’t a fuckin big foot.
Whatever it is, it’s aware of my presence now. We’re both frozen, feeling each other out. Slowly I move to my left as quietly as I can seeking a better line of sight. My foot hits the forest floor snapping a few small twigs and that's all it takes. The beast lets out another horrible bellow, the loudest yet and begins to move. Branches snapping and dust clouds kicking up under it’s feet or hooves or paws, I’m still not sure. This is it I think, great idea, this “no-trail” hike. I’m in the middle of the woods, on a steep hillside. Nowhere close to anything, even a trail. It’ll be months before my body is found if it ever is at all.
When I snap out of my daymare I realized the things is moving laterally, not toward me. I take another step to my left and keep searching the through the trees and finally I see it. A big black ear with a big yellow tag snapped to it flicking back and forth at a swarm of flies. Then an oblong head and a big wet nose. It’s a fucking cow! A GIANT, black, weird sounding cow…..all alone on a hillside in the middle of a forest…..I sigh in relief. I’m not going to be eaten alive and I didn’t even wet myself when I thought I might be. “You scared the shit outta me” I laugh out at the cow who just continues downhill happily munching grass a he goes. I resume my trek uphill and back towards my camp.
I make it to the summit and a quick glance at my GPS shows me I’ve got the correct heading but the undergrowth is getting thick. I fight my way through brambles and balance along fallen tree trunks but it’s just too thick. I have to change course. Try to find a more accessible route so I don’t get stuck out here in the dark. I struggle a bit further and finally stumble upon the same trail I ran into earlier in the day. I relax a bit and follow it in the opposite direction. I’m recognizing landmarks and confident I’m headed in the right direction when I hear from the opposite side of clearing, “Hey hiker!” I look up to see a small group of kids around a small fire. “Wanna beer?!” I do, and I'm quickly headed in that direction.
The group is Shea, Josh, Nikki, and Kyle. Just a group of twenty somethings who came across this spot years ago and have been coming back to it ever since. There’s also a small pomeranian dog running around their camp. They’ve got a few tents set up, a pile of food near the fire, and cases of beer spilling out of the back seat of theirs cars parked near by. Large bottles of vodka and Jaegermeister, half empty, sit on top a coolers. Their volume and excitement level tell me they’ve been at it for a while already. I’m handed a beer and shrug, when in Rome I suppose. I crack it open, thank them for their hospitality, and take a long satisfying pull. Delicious after my long hike.
We chat and drink for a while, pass the peace pipe around and fire a high powered BB gun at empties and other targets they've set up in the woods. They even give me a big cup of stew they’ve had simmering all day. I can tell the group is close knit because they playfully rip on each other throughout the evening. Whenever someone finishes a story, Kyle has one of his own that can beat it.
“Yeah, if you’ve done it, he’s done it twice…..and with a twist,” says Shea while laughing at Kyle. More beers are drank, more herbs are smoked, and more stories are told.
My personal favorite is when Kyle brings up his ex-wife. She is Chilean, as in straight outta Chile and everyone reiterates how unbelievably beautiful she is. Even Nikki, the lone female says more than once, “She’s fuckin hot.”
“She IS fuckin hot,” agrees Kyle…”But she’s also a crazy bitch.” He says this while scratching the head of the pomeranian lovingly. “I bought her this dog, but he liked me better……cause I’m not a horrible person. So I took him back when we split.” Now if you don’t know what a pomeranian looks like, that dog Boo from the internet…..he’s a pomeranian. He’s so fluffy and cute, with a face stuck in a permanent smile. He’s a cartoon for fucks sake. He’s just the type of dog a vain, high maintenance, celebrity type girl would carry around in a designer handbag. Kyle shows me pictures on his phone of the woman in question and she is quite the specimen…..and very naked in several of the photos. “So you can see how I could be temporarily blind to her bitchyness” Kyle states mater of factly.
“Blinded by hotness,” I say shaking my head. “I’ve seen it a million times.”
Kyle is barrel-chested, with a goatee and a green army hat. His choice of dog just doesn't seem to to fit him as a person. When I mention this he doesn’t hesitate to agree. “But man, that dog is a fuckin pussy magnet! All I gotta do to tell chicks how much I love him and panties disappear like dandelion spores on the wind. And I don’t even need to feel guilty cause it’s not a lie! I really fuckin love this dog!” As if to illustrate further he scratches the dogs head again and breaks into a baby voice. “Yes I do, don’t I? I love you yes I do. Good thing you didn’t get stuck with that crazy bitch huh? yes, it’s a good thing.” The dog seems to agree.
I make my exit with the excuse that I’ve got 2 miles or so still to hike to make it back camp and its starting to get dark. I fend off their offers to drive me back in the morning and with a beer for the road I once again plunge into the woods in the direction of camp. I make it back without a problem and sleep soundly.
