Weavers Needle and A New Way Home

"Do you want to take the back way home?" my husband Kevin asked while we were out adventuring in the Superstition Mountains. 

We had spent the morning on a hike to Fremont Saddle, a popular destination, with a clear view of Weaver's Needle -- a 1000-foot spire that rises from the desert floor. We even stopped for a thermos of cocoa and cookies at the Lone Tree viewpoint, named for (you guessed it), one single tree growing on the cliff edge. 

(Look for the tree over Kevin's shoulder in the photo below.)

The day was perfect -- sunny -- but with a welcome crispness in the air. We had documented many varieties of cactus on the hike to The Needle: saguaro, barrel, hedgehog, pincushion, cholla (buckhorn, chain, teddy bear), and both the desert and plains prickly pear.

I was surprised the abundant winter rains had already enticed several wildflowers to appear. Fleabane, globemallow, tansy aster, deervetch, and verbena were taking a risk for beauty, even with freezing temperatures looming in the forecast. 

Did I want to take the back way home on an unmaintained trail in the Superstition Wilderness? It was a fair question. After two years of illness and recovery, with choosing safe adventures not too far from the parking lot, was I ready for the risk of wandering out of my area of comfort, where I was less in control?

Sometimes the questions we ask on desert trails are a mirror of a life. 

"Let's take a different trail home!"

We began what is known as the Geronimo Cave Trail, an off-trail descent, often steep, over slickrock and boulders, including a butt-sitting section nicknamed The Devil's Slide. 

Note:  Accurately named.

Note two: Be sure to download the map to your phone ahead of time, because you will find yourself asking, "Are you sure this is the trail?"

Note three: You will ask this question all afternoon. 

It was a day for photos. For watching a baby tarantula. For gasping at the views. 

For viewing balancing rocks.

For getting turned around, but then finding our way. 

For wearing the rubber tips off our new hiking poles.

For saying, "There's the next cairn."

For feeling small.

In a good way.

Sometimes.

We all need to take a new way home.