This weekend, we planned a 6-mile loop around Little Granite Mountain in Prescott, AZ. Due to poor instructions, we back-tracked and had to restart, which added 1/2 mile to our day’s total. No big deal.
As we abandoned the first leg of the trail to hook into the 2nd part of our loop, we discovered that this loop seriously sucked. The trail was overgrown with massive thickets of chest-high thorny bushes. As the branches snagged our clothing and scratched our bare legs, we ran into two women on horseback.
“This trail gets really rough,” said one of the middle-aged horse ladies, “hikers don’t usually come around here.”
So we turned back…adding 1 more wasted mile.
Once we returned to the original trail, we decided to continue to Vista Point, located on top of Granite Mountain.
“The map says it’s 4.1 miles total,” I said. I knew I could handle that.
After the first mile of climbing, however, I turned into a little monster. At this point, I had already hiked 5 miles and we weren’t at the top. Not even close.
I was pissed.
“Okay, you’ve got to start talking about something to keep my mind off my misery,” I told Lou.
“What do you want to talk about?” Lou innocently asked.
“I don’t KNOW!” I snapped.
The conversation ended. But I kept complaining as I realized that the map indicated one-way mileage, not the trail’s total. With our wasted backtracking and the improvised commitment to complete this Granite Mountain Vista Point trail, I estimated we’d be close to 10 miles by the end of the day.
“GodDAMMIT!” I blurted, out of the blue.
“Just take a minute and look where we are,” Lou said as he gestured toward the incredible scenery before us.
“I GET IT!”
Poor Lou. I repeatedly apologized later, of course.
“I think you handled it really well,” he said. “We just have to accept that, during this process, we’ll each have a moment where we’ve just had it. You pushed through and finished. I’m proud of you.”
This actually happened. Lou is actually this good to me.
I can’t believe my luck.