Do you believe in jinxes? If not, this hike might change your opinion.

The first problem occurred a couple of weeks before the hike. Ted, the original planner, scheduler, and intended hike leader, took a test hike and decided that his left knee wasn’t up to the task. That left me, previously slotted as an assistant, as the full hike leader.

But OK, I figured. Some people aspire to greatness and others have it thrust upon them.

The next problem occurred Saturday morning at the meeting place. One hiker who’d signed up didn’t show, and we lost about ten minutes waiting for him. Eventually we left without him but we still lost the ten minutes.

Scott, however, told us he’d seen traffic signs reporting that northbound I-17 was closed because of an accident. Fearing a backup, I took city streets around the reported accident site and lost another five or ten minutes. (Several others, by the way, took I-17 anyway and reported that by then, the accident had been cleared. Oh well.)

As usual we stopped at the McDonald’s in Camp Verde. Mike was supposed to join us there but he’d arrived early and we, of course, arrived late. As a result, Mike had given up and started driving home. I contacted him by cell phone and he returned but there went another ten or fifteen minutes.

Running late, I was afraid that Lynne, Paul, Mark, and Sheila, who were meeting us in Flagstaff, might give up as Mike did. To prevent that I sent them a text message warning we wouldn’t be arriving until ten o’clock. They arrived at exactly that time but we were fifteen minutes early, so there went another fifteen minutes.

Getting from the Target in Flagstaff to the trailhead went smoothly. That was surprising, given how the day was going, but I took it.

Because the hike was a one-way, Scott, Lynne, and her husband Paul drove two cars to the Sandy Seep trailhead, our ending point. Scott left his car there and travelled with Lynne and Paul to the Schultz Tank trailhead, where the rest of us were waiting. The plan was that after the hike, Scott would drive the other drivers back to Schultz Tank to pick up their cars.

Everyone was soon geared up and ready to go but with all the delays, we didn’t start hiking until eleven o’clock. I’d hoped to start by ten. But oh well, at least it was good to be underway.

Good, that is, until three miles out, Lynne fell and twisted her ankle.

She tried continuing for a while, and Michael tried wrapping the ankle with elastic tape, but eventually she decided she couldn’t continue.

Fortunately, and with major uncharacteristic good luck, we were at the best possible spot on the trail for an injury to occur. We were right at the intersection of a marked trail that led 0.3 miles to the Little Elden Springs Horse Camp and, more importantly, to FR 556, the road to the Schultz Tank Trailhead.

An animal gate along the Little Elden Trail.

Scott asked if he could hike ahead and finish the trail early, so he’d have more time with his son, who lived in Flagstaff. I said OK, but as soon as Scott was out of sight, someone remembered that he had the only vehicle for getting the rest of the drivers back to their cars! Fortunately, Scott had a radio and answered my call (or maybe it was my shouting). So, at least one disaster averted!

That certainly didn’t keep the gremlins from interfering, though. After a pit stop, a hiker who shall remain nameless (except that he’s a club president named Chuck) somehow took a wrong turn and ended up half a mile off track!

Fortunately he, too, had a radio, and even more fortunately he was still within range when he called for help.

The wrong trail he’d taken had eventually petered out, but undaunted, he’d continued by bushwhacking through a large meadow. That left no trail, and he didn’t have a GPS unit or smartphone, and those factors made backtracking uncertain at best. The only landmark he could report was a set of power lines that neither I nor anyone else in the group had seen.

I went back to search, staying on-trail so I wouldn’t get lost as well. Neither of us could hear each other, either by shouting or blowing a whistle.

Eventually, though, I did spot the power lines through a break in the trees. They were short wooden poles amid trees, and not large derricks, and at least a quarter mile off-trail.

That told me the hiker’s position was to my east, and based on that the lost hiker started bushwhacking west. Eventually we found that both of us could see a mountain with communications towers at the summit, and we both headed for that.

Not much later he spotted me. Reunited, we had a brief, “Dr. Livingston, I presume,” moment and then headed out to rejoin the rest of the group at the Sandy Seep trailhead. While I was finding our stray hiker they’d retrieved all the cars and so we were ready to go.

The drive into town was blissfully uneventful, and our dinner at Beaver Street Brewery was great. Lynne and Paul rejoined us at the restaurant and assured us that Lynne would be fine. Everyone was in good spirits for a troublesome hike finished well. There were no problems driving home.

The next Tuesday Lynne sent me an email saying her foot had swollen and turned black and blue, but that it didn't hurt much. I hadn’t realized until then she’s a Registered Nurse, but she is, and so I trust her judgment.

1. Be prepared to handle injuries.
2. Don’t hike beyond sight of the group. If you find yourself alone, wait for someone to catch up. If you’re the last hiker and about to be stranded, shout ahead and ask someone to wait.
3. If you think you’re off-trail, either stay where you are or backtrack. Don’t continue on without knowing where you’re going.
4. If you can’t establish visual contact, try radio or cell phone.
5. In retrospect, I shouldn’t have gone on a one-man search expedition. No harm came of it this time, but see lesson 2.