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All this talk with Snick and his back injuries got me reminiscing about all of the lame things that have happened to me over the years. I have had some rather interesting injuries; I have witnessed far worse injuries. I have performed some seriously bonehead maneuvers, and witnessed individuals whose noggin’s are apparently simply filled with calcium. I have done some dangerous things, sometimes by choice and sometimes by necessity (see the aforementioned bonehead maneuvers), and I have witnessed others who for some reason or another seem fixated on shuffling off this mortal coil by performing acts of beyond suicidal nature.

So, being the sick and twisted gent that I am - curiosity has set in: let’s hear them – fellow hikers and HAZ residents – what are your all time best stories for:

:arrow: Bonehead maneuvers (acts that make you scratch your head - often in confusion, more often in disbelief)

:arrow: Suicidal actions (acts you honestly can't believe a person would ever want to do)

:arrow: Hospitalization worthy injuries (things that seriously had you concerned for the contents of your stomach)

:arrow: Merely face cringing injuries (think groin injuries men…)

:arrow: Blow your mind moves/events (seriously impressive acts of skill and prowess)

Keep in mind that since this is a HIKING forum – all tales should relate to the aforementioned hobby/sport. I would also accept hunting/biking/fishing/climbing/4-wheeling since these topics are also covered here at HAZ.

I of course leave it up to Joe to determine if these questions deserve their own topic threads – probably based on volume of response.

Pictures are always welcome if that is possible.

P.S.: I have to admit that I have am looking forward a great deal to hearing some good stories. I will share mine after a few responses.

Which division does getting drunk and bobbing for french fries in the deep fryer come under.

I'm not old enough to have done anything stupid, but bet GTG is.

I've had a few dumb moments in my hiking career. I was on the PCT in 2000, just south of Forrester Pass. Forrester Pass is the highest point on the PCT, and I was above 13,000 feet. There was a lot of snow still on the ground at that point, and I was carefully making a traverse across a snow slope, when I put my weight on my foot wrong, and slipped and started to slide down the slope. I had my ice axe in hand thank God, and managed to dig it in and arrest my fall. A couple hundred feet down the snow slope cliffed out, so that was one BIG disaster averted.

I also seem to have a propensity for getting lost. One of my "lost in the woods" stories can be found in the Pine Mountain trail comments. On another occasion, I was on a three-day snowshoe trip alone in the Manzano Mountain Wilderness in New Mexico. I had just climbed up Leavitt Peak and signed the trail register. My truck was waiting at the mouth of a canyon that started from the top of this peak. I aimed down a ridge, intending to hike along it for awhile and then drop down into the canyon, from there out to my truck. However, I somehow managed to drop down along the wrong ridge. By the time I realized I had made a mistake I was a thousand snowy feet below the crest of the mountains, and I had no intention of climbing back up all that dang snow. I stuck to the floor of the canyon I was in and kept walking. At the mouth of the canyon I hit a dirt road that I followed down to the highway. I was out of the wilderness, but the wilderness was now between me and my car. I managed to hitch a ride with a forest ranger all the way back around the mountains to my car, a thirty-mile ride.

Lizard

Yet another killer topic by the almighty olesma

However, he's has the 8O Zuma bug! He drops the topic and runs like a cheetah! Let's hear it! I believe a couple post have past

Unfortunately I have more "stupid" acts then I really care to share.
Lizard's post brought it all home in a flash. A few years ago...
I was visiting my sister and brother-in-law in Idlywild CA It's on the flip side of Mt San Jacinto you see hanging over Palm Springs, Cathedral City etc... Think Love Connection mid 80's, the tram they always talked about goes up this monster. ( Sid has actually hiked the Palms to Pines! )

Anyhow we went on this measely hike as a group from the popular area. Well, that certainly didn't cure my needs at all. So the next day I decided to fast pace it up to the Southsomething trail to Taqouitz Peak. It was a great Febuary 2nd day! Coming across the first mother of a saddle ground snow came into play. This area is INCREDIBLE BTW! I continued on up. The snow on the side of trail soon turned into the trail. Then the trail turns to ice. I'm so friggen close to the Peak I can taste it! I kept telling myself it's ONLY like another 3-400 yards. So I'm beating through the ice making steps up. Here's where the moronic part comes in. I don't know how but I hadn't looked back up to this point. I turned around only to notice I'm on one STEEP mountain side. I went from I'm gonna MAKE it, to I'm gonna DIE in the one heart beat! At this point I realized just how cold I was, my hands were claming up.

Going up an icy slope is one thing but going down is pure terror. I was trying to estimate how far down I could slide into a tree without getting too injured. I made it out okay. Got back down to my sisters. Then my brother-in-law casually mentions "oh yeah, some guy died up there last week", I was like uh huh, gee, thanks!

Suprisingly enough this was weeks after I did Browns Peak in ice. If you've ever done that scree chute, try imagine it covered with ice! I swore I'd never get myself into that situation again. Yeah, that lasted about a couple weeks! When I got back from Cali I immediately bought crampons and two ice axes! (yes I know, overkill for a zonie!)

Well, this could be rather long - I have pulled some major stupid things in my day, and witnessed some even stupider. If we weren't sticking with hiking I would tell you about the time I accidentally set off a bomb in the kitchen of my church (wrecking about 1/2 of the place)...but sadly, that story will have to wait for another time :twisted:

Unfortunately, I have to admit that I am not a very risky hiker. I am exceptionally conservative, and I know my limits pretty well. That doesn't mean that accidents haven't happened (caught hypothermia twice for example), I just don't usually do things that I know are going to be a bad idea. Now, based on someone elses decisions - that's another thing alltogether.

Havasupai, summer 1987: I had never gone there before and had only been in the state for a year - I was 16 years old at the time. My scout troop was going to do the hike - and none of us, except for one of the leaders, had ever done the hike. We also weren't smart enough to any research about the hike on our own. Anyway, GP (the leader who had been there before) tells us that the hike "isn't very long" - when pressed, he only says it takes him a few hours, but he really hasn't ever found out the "exact" distance. (which is accurate - I still hear estimates from 10 to 12 miles, nobody seems to be able to make up their minds)

So, we get there and hike in at night (full moon, very beautiful) and at the bottom of the switchbacks GP tells everyone to go ahead and dump out their water - cause we won't need it. Remember "it's not too far!" He also suggests that if we really want, we can burry a couple of canteens at the bottom there for use on the trip out. But he personally never uses much water, so why bother? So, all these scouts dump all their water, and a few burry most of their canteens for use on the way out (remember, its night). I am the only one not to dump my water, mostly because I don't want to take of my pack, but also because I don't care about the extra weight.

The rest of the night as we keep hiking and hiking and hiking, eventually we get annoyed. Us: "How far is this place?" GP: "Just around that next bend I think." - this goes on for at least 5 miles. Us: "Quit this crap GP - where is the damned camp!?" GP: "If I remember right..." All the kids at this point are dehydrated and very tired - some of them are in no way prepared for 10+ miles. In fact, if we had known the true distance, I doubt more than 4 of us would have gone. One of the leaders is overweight and very out of shape and at one point we think he had a minor heart attack. Just crazy. GP considers all this "character building" and "good for you" - we all want to strangle him right now - especially the two other adult leaders.

We finally reach the camp and eveyrone just collapses where they are without even setting up camp. Two days later we are going to head out and GP says: "Lets just leave early in the morning - the hike is much easier in the light and it won't seem as long." Everyone seems to believe this - despite the previous track record - and the fact that it is a physical impossibility to arouse a Boy Scout before 9:00 AM.

To make a nightmare story shorter - by the time the kids woke up and hiked out, we were beginning to reach the switchbacks at like 2:00 PM - the hottest time of day (did I mention we are doing this in July?). By this point several of the boys are looking like they are in serious danger of heat exhaustion or even heat stroke. GP is in the back of the line - spread out by more than 30 minutes between kids by now - and suffering like the rest of us.

I was one of the stronger hikers and one of the first out (also the only one that had anything like enough water). So we wait up there for about 1 hour - nobody comes along so the 2 of us (yes only two of us made the hike effectively) decide we'd better do rescue duty. We load up a day pack with every canteen we have and start the "Havasupai Shuttle Service." We would go down - hike till we found a boy, give him some water, take his pack and dragg his poor little dehydrated carcas back to the cars at the top of the switchbacks and then go back for another one. Each of us did 5 trips like that. Including having to help GP. I have never worked so hard in all my life.

Seems that nobody could find the canteens they burried at the bottom of the switchbacks either. Hmmm...wonder why...

Nobody in our troop talked to GP again that day (I considered leaving the chums behind at the bottom of the canyon) and he was never again invited to a scout activity. I have talked to people as recently as a year ago that did that trip with me - and there is still animosity toward that dude.

Single worst hiking experience of my life. I hope I never have to repeat it again.

Not Havasupai's fault though - I've done it twice since, and really enjoyed it.

I wish we had a forest ranger to chip in on this topic. I talked to a Grand Canyon ranger once and he had some incredibly good stories about some of the biggest idiots I have ever heard of.

I went there on a college choir trip (we were on tour) in 1993 (2?) and we spent a day at the Grand Canyon. A few people decided to hike to the bottom - and a very few of us decided in ADVANCE we would hike to the bottom and prepared for it before we left by bringing shoes and a canteen or two.

I bet at this point I don't even have to tell the story - you can see it coming. The group starts down thinking "Hey, this is cake!" The group is about 20 strong and includes one guy who is 5' 8" and easyily in the 350 lb range - out of shape for this hike is an understatement. Of all 20 - maybe 3 of us are wearing hiking shoes and have more than an "Arrowhead" bottled water bought at the gift shop.

We got to Indian Springs - water there - and turned around. The group wasn't really a coherent group, we just sort of did the hike at the same time. Anyway - I made it back up to the top in short order and was a surprisingly tired. That is not as easy a hike as it looks. 4 hours after I got to the top, the last guy (our big man) got to the top. He was the last, and he only beat out his competition by 30 minutes.

I have seen worse blisters, but not often. I have also seen worse sunburn, but not often. And I have seen exhausted, but rarely that bad. And I am not just talking about the big guy - almost everyone in the group was beat pretty good. (I bet you can guess the number of people that weren't totaly hammered...) As for the big guy - a ranger had to go down and nurse him up to the top.

We left for home that night, and we heard at class the next day that he was laid up in bed - unable to move his legs or back because they were so sore. We didn't see him at class for the rest of the week.

According the the park ranger - this kind of thing happens every day - some times as much as 10 or 12 people like that each day. The donkeys usually take care of the idiots - but our boy was too heavy for a donky.

Last post for a bit - then I'll let other responses pile up.

While hiking Camelback one day the Phoenix Mountain Rescue crew was out to get some idiot off of the rock that had climbed up and gotten stuck. I was talking to one of the firemen and we were sort of joking about the inteligence level of someone who would just start climbing a sheer rock face with no gear, no plan, no skill, no experience, and no apparent brain.

I said to him "Man, these idiots must seriously annoy you guys." He laughed and yelled what I said to the rest of the team - they all laughed pretty heartily.

He turned back to me and said: "No way man! We LIVE for idiots like this! It gives us a chance to practice what we love doing - climbing and rescue. And we get paid for this! As far as we're concerned, the more idiots like this dude the better."

So - go ahead and be stupid, engender the love of your local mountin rescue crew.

I'm not sure if this fits under "Bonehead Maneuvers", maybe we should add a category for "Directionally Challenged Decisions" or something like that.

My first dayhike in the Grand Canyon, in October, of 96 or 97, don't recall which for sure.... I hiked down the S. Kaibab with a group of friends. We left that morning in a light snow at the rim. By the time we got to the river, the weather was very pleasant, most of us had shed our layers down to shorts and tshirts. We ate lunch by the river, on the rocks, then started out along the River Trail, to the Bright Angel. At Indian Gardens, we were noticing the sky was looking darker, get cloudier. We later found out that the village had more or less been getting snow all day. We started out of Indian Gardens, and about 1/4 mile up the trail, we met a German couple, in their late 50's or early 60's. They stopped us and asked us in their broken english "How do you get to shuttle bus". We, of course, pointed up to the top of the rim and said, "you need to go up there, to the village." However, they insisted that they needed to continue down, toward the river. No matter how hard we insisted, we were never able to convince them to turn around and hike up to the rim. They were dead certain that we had no clue, and that they needed to keep going down to catch that shuttle bus they were looking for. The last we saw of them, they were headed toward Indian Gardens. Shortly after we left them, it began raining. Between 3-Mile Resthouse and Mile & Half Resthouse, the rain became mixed with snow. And within a mile of the rim, it was dark and we were in a pretty hard snowstorm. Hopefully, those folks talked to others, finally realized that they were never going to see any shuttle buses down inside the Canyon, and turned around to hike out.

Olesma - you need to read the book GTG and I recently read... Over the Edge: Death in Grand Canyon by Michael Ghiglieri and Thomas Myers. It is basically an anthology of everyone who has lost their lives at the Canyon. Although a rather morbid topic, the author does a good job of lightening the topic without making fun of the deceased. Some of these people have taken the term "bonehead" to a higher level.

Personally, my bonehead moves usually include 4 factors:
1. My friend Tony
2. The phrase "hey, what do you think is up/down/in/out/around there?"
3. A reply of "doesn't look too bad"
4. One of the following: steep slope, scree field, cave, flooded river, mountain peak, dark woods, mountain bikes on ice in February, distracted belayer, alternative route, off trail hike, adventure races, Bright Angel in a blizzard (96?), fire ants, rattle snakes, mud, ice, hail, rain, snow....

I'd share a specific story, but they seem to all blend together...and nothing seems to be an "oh my god" moment, rather, it is something we look back on and think, "damn, we are idiots."

Edward Abbey writes about exploring a slot canyon in which he reaches a drop into a pool. He knows that once he jumps there is no turning around. The guy goes for it. He keeps hiking and encounters another "point of no return"...he keeps going. Finally, his luck runs out and he cannot proceed. At first, he panics because he doesn't think he can retreat, but eventually he is able to get himself back out the way he came in. At the time, he felt in over his head, but upon reflection, he considered it to be his best day hiking.

Now although Frost says that "the road not taken" makes all the difference, perhaps sometimes the bonehead move does the same...[/u]

ck1 wrote: At the time, he felt in over his head, but upon reflection, he considered it to be his best day hiking.

Now although Frost says that "the road not taken" makes all the difference, perhaps sometimes the bonehead move does the same...[/u]

You got it! I don't advocate trying to get your self into a dangerous situation or any kind of trouble but all to often it seems, I do just that to myself. They are some of my finest days on earth.

I wrote this up in 1999--I was trying to capture a memory that was fading fast. The blunders occur at the Little Colorado and at Havasu.

"1982 Grand Canyon River Trip"
Date: March 19 1999


I have been searching my brain for the last few days for details of the Colorado River trip that my husband
and I went on in 1982. I wasn't into taking trip notes in those days. I only have a list of the folks that were
on the trip and the "not so good" photos (the backs of people's heads and overexposed ones) I loaned the
good pictures to somebody and never got them back. I was still young enough to think that I would
remember forever?

At that time I knew very little about the canyon and for some reason on that trip I didn't want to know the
names of places or rock layers. I just got into the flow of the place. It was the best of all the river trips that we
have taken.

It was late May or early June when we left the boat ramp at Lee's Ferry. Everyone on the trip was related to
each other in some way. I count 29 people plus 4 boat persons. Allison, a boat driver had a figure to
entertain the boys and she had at least a dozen sexy swimsuits.

Three souls from that trip have died since
then. My older sister Jean, a beloved uncle Mike and our head boatman Timmothy Kazan are gone. Tim
was killed along with his wife in a head on collision with a drunk about a half mile south of our place at
Cameron a few years ago.

My Aunt Betty Jo had organized this trip. She and my mother had gone from Height Utah down through
Glen Canyon and Grand Canyon in 1958(before the dam was built at Page)
with her friend Mary Sanderson and all of Sanderson's crew people. Betty organized the trip with
Sanderson's again for us in 82. One could feel the hand of a woman behind everything on that trip. The
food was exceptional, the toilet was set up in a little toilet tent and we had military cots to sleep on.

I don't remember too much about the first day or two. The two big boats were pontoons with small motors.
We took turns riding on the pointed "horns" of the boats. Coming into a rapid the water is silky smooth.
Riding on the front of the boat is a wild ride when diving into a rapid. My mother fussed at us about being
unsafe for awhile until Aunt Betty came up with the slogan "let 'em die!", which was used a lot before the
trip was done.

The morning we were coming up to the confluence of the Little Colorado River we were cold and wet. Our
cheap plastic rain suits (later dubbed brown in bags) were woefully inadequate. Bottles of peach brandy
were being passed about and I had more than my fair share. My only memory of the Little Colorado is
sitting with my head in the lap of our oldest daughter Janet losing my breakfast. That was the first and last
time I imbibed on that trip!

At Phantom Ranch we picked up Betty's son Paul who had hiked down to join the party.
At a north side of the river camp beyond Bright Angel Creek we had a graduation ceremony for a mentally
handicapped young cousin. He had brought his cap with tassel and his folks had his diploma. We hummed
Pomp and Circumstance and afterward made speeches and had a great party.

Sometime later at a south of the river camp I spent a whole morning doing laundry. I had brought just what I
had been told to bring (nobody else did) and our clothing was sadly insufficient.

I remember climbing up and jumping in the pools at Elves Chasm. That is a beauty place.

At Tapeats Creek my cousin Bobby insisted that we all hike up to Thunder River falls. The water at the
falls comes out of the redwall with tremendous force and lots of noise. The place is green and cool in the
hot red canyon. We heard from someone that day that there was some kind of a trail coming down to the
falls from the north rim. That is when we got the G C hiking bug that has resulted in well over 100 trips
into the canyon. That place was so beautiful we just had to go back.

We camped that night across the river from Deer Creek. The next morning we went across to the falls. We
climbed up so we could see the narrow slot canyon and followed the creek up into the valley where the
stream comes out of the redwall a mile or two up.

Later that day we stopped at Havasu Creek. I asked Mike (a young inexperienced swamper newly hired for
this trip) if this would be a good place to bathe. Our boats were tied up on the eastern side of the creek, still
in the big river. I proceeded to dive into the water off the east side of the boats and was caught up in the
underwater current which pulled me under them. For some confused reason I decided that the boat was
moving so I kicked myself further out into the river so as not to be hit by a prop. When I surfaced I realized
that the boats had not moved and that the current was sending me sans life jacket into the rapid below
Havasu Creek. Fight or flight took over and I swam hard. I'm no swimmer but I was that day. I could see
where I could get to a ledge at the side of the river but someone threw me a life jacket which got in my way.
I threw the jacket out of my path and reached the ledge literally one foot from where it ended.

Our last camp was on the south side somewhere after the water slowed down because of Lake Mead. It was
strangely quiet after the constant river river tune of the last 10 days.
I have never wanted to go on another trip so much as I did that day. I felt I could go back to the top of the
slide and go down over and over forever.
The soul quiet of that trip stayed with me for weeks and when I slept I was on the moving water again for
many nights.
Mary Phyl

ck1 wrote:At the time, he felt in over his head, but upon reflection, he considered it to be his best day hiking.

Now although Frost says that "the road not taken" makes all the difference, perhaps sometimes the bonehead move does the same...[/u]

Very well spoken CK1 - very well spoken. I too had that sort of "it all blends together" feeling - it took me a while to pick out one experience to list. But I will say that for the most part, you are correct, my "worst" days also tend to be my best experiences.

Funny how that is. I guess it is the thrill of reaching your limits or surpassing what you thought were your limits, and living to tell the tale. Then you could also make an argument for the thrill of discovery. Good stuff.

Thanks for reminding me of why I go hiking to begin with...

olesma wrote: Funny how that is. I guess it is the thrill of reaching your limits or surpassing what you thought were your limits, and living to tell the tale. Then you could also make an argument for the thrill of discovery. Good stuff.

Thanks for reminding me of why I go hiking to begin with...

You are welcome.

The scary thing is that if you think about the experience too much, you realize that it could easily have gone the other way...a missed trail, handhold, pullout, not enough water, bath weather...that's why I think so "many" people end up in trouble when they go hiking...sure, they are just out for a walk, but look at what can happen on the walk...

A few years ago I started putting together a little scrap book of sorts...I had tons of outdoor magazines and catalogs laying around...each with these amazing photos of people doing "outside" things...hiking, climbing, riding, etc....so anyway, I started cutting a few out, and, well couple years later I have two scrapbooks full. I enjoy just looking at the photos, it motivates me to get out there, it allows me to get out there when I can't, it's just one of those things...anyway...I have an add in there that has a great quote...it kinda works with regard to this topic

YOU COULD GET MAULED BY A BEAR AND DIE
YOU COULD GET BIT BY A SNAKE AND DIE.
YOU COULD FALL OFF A CLIFF AND DIE
YOU COULD GET GORED BY A BISON AND DIE
YOU COULD GET STRUCK BY LIGHTENING AND DIE
YOU COULD GET SHOT BY A HUNTER AND DIE
YOU COULD GET ATTACKED BY FIRE ANTS AND DIE

OR YOU COULD STAY HOME ON THE COUCH, EAT POTATO CHIPS AND DIE.

I guess it could explain one of the reasons we allow ourselves to get into the situations listed above...

Great topic. I guess there are two poor souls who come to mind. Two years ago I backpacked into the Grand Canyon with my brother. We hiked in on Thanksgiving day, overnighted under the stars and hiked out the following day. There was snow at the south rim and it extended down to about 1500 feet below the rim. As we hiked out we passed a poor fellow who had fallen on the trail about 1000 feet below the rim. He'd slipped on the ice and broken his hip. There were a couple of rangers with him and we passed four more as we hiked on to the rim. The second group were taking a one wheeled litter down. That guy was going to have a very uncomfortable ride out of the canyon. What made it bonehead was the guy's preparation. He'd chosen slacks, button up long sleeved shirt and leather soled oxford shoes for his hike. Spur of the moment hiking can be a killer.
The second guy I met in the Superstitions. I was hiking the Peralta loop counterclockwise last July. I had started the hike at first light and took 4 liters of water with me. As I was approaching the Dutchman trail from the Terrapin trail I met a guy on the trail. I don't recall his name but we talked for about 5 minutes. He had set out from second water trailhead with two small bottles of water, maybe one liter total. He had never hiked the Supes but decided that would be a good day for it. He was prepared with a map drawn on a napkin. Unfortunately, it did not have enough detail and he was actually about 2 miles from where he thought. I pulled out my Beartooth map and showed him our location, where I'd been, where I was going, and how far he'd come. I strongly recommended he hike back to his car and do more exploring another day with more water. He thanked me but decided he wanted to see more trail and headed south on the Terrapin trail. I kept track of him as I hiked the opposite canyon wall until I saw him disappear over the ridge. I did keep an ear out for any reports of missing people but never heard any. I truly expected to see him on the news.

I knew you looked familar!

Everybody seems to have a story that includes Leather Oxfords, Ice, and the Grand Canyon...

Was just wondering if there is an urban legend stalking about somewhere.

I heard the same story from a bud of mine who showed me around south mountain a few years ago, when I first arrived here.

Kinda reminds me about the story we have all heard about the cd-rom drawer being called a coffee-cup holder, a funny story but did it REALLY happen??

Hey, dont yell at me, Im just making an observation.

Alright, I'm usually a very smart camper, especially when backpacking, but sometimes car camping and bordom can get the best of you.

Recently I went car camping with a few friends for the weekend. We were camped near the Maxwell trail head at West Clear creek. At first we just had fun hiking around and talking about absolutely nothing. I'm sure you all know that a trip out of the city does wonders in the fight against stress. Later on we began to get bored of sitting and staring at the fire. My not so smart friend came up with a brilliant idea for entertainment. He bet me (pride not money) that I couldn't push over a tree. So I figure, no biggie I think I can do it. I'm a big guy. Now I picked an almost limbless dead tree so as not to needlessly kill a living tree. It was tough at first but after I started rocking it back and forth I realized that the roots were pulling out. All of a sudden when the tree rocked back in my direction, it snapped a few feet up from the baseand the tree ended up falling on me (MAJORLY bruised shoulder) and my friends tent which didn't fare as well as me. Never again.

I have a coule stories about my dad and his friends back when they worked in the forest service. There was a guy they worked with that they nicknamed "Gene Gene the Dancing Machine" He was a genius (read physics books for fun) but he had no common sense whatsoever. Once when they were clearing some trees he cut one down right on top of his car. Another time they were doing a prescribed burn and in his absent mindedness, gene somehow looped around and ended up drip-torching a circle around himself. One other time he decided to punt what he thought was trash but actually turned out to be a yellow jacket nest. Needless to say he wasn't feeling too happy after that.

If I think of anymore I'll be sure to post them. :P

The most painful thing I've done on a trail ( I will leave rugby out for now ) was on the Terrapin trail a couple of months ago. I was jogging down the cinder part where it descends about a half mile before it meets with the Peralta trail. As I jogged I was letting my mind wander, just thinking about odds and ends. I failed to examine one rock well enough before setting my weight on it. The rock came loose and for a moment I was doing my circus bear imitation, backpedalling as the rock tumbled down the trail. Then the rock stopped and my body lurched in front of my feet. Keep in mind that this was on a downhill part of the trail. I had just enough time to try to aim my body for the best landing possible. On the right of the trail was a cholla. The trail was rocky cinders. On the left was a prickly pear. I steered away from the cholla and split the difference between the trail and prickly pear with my chest, arms and shoulders. I was surprised that I only ended up with a couple of dozen spines from the cactus and happily had no broken bones or twisted ankles. It would have been a long drag out from there if I'd damaged my walkers. I did slow down a bit afterwards and paid more attention to the trail.