Fourteen miles we hike
that clear warm day
in the fall of '73
when we come upon one of many
beautiful bends beneath the cliffs
of the headwaters trail
within this pristine wilderness
of the Gila River National Forest

We find the stream teeming
with rainbows and discover
salmon eggs their favorite bait
as we fast-fill our stringer
hunger shouts loud from our bellies
when we are suddenly surprised
by a setting sun
and we are forced
to make camp quickly

Teenage boots crunch the dried twigs
beneath our hurried feet
as we race to clear a place
as we lose the light of day
and we quickly gather a huge pile
of dry hardwood for our fire

It is dark and cooling fast
before we begin
feasting on fresh fish
roasting slow over the hot fire
Our hunger sated
we soon find ourselves being boys
propped up by our packs
as we face each other across
the glowing coals of our dwindling fire
shadows dancing across our faces

Our two-man tent sits as sentinel
as we tell tall tales and stories
of childhoods written by images
of school, girls, games and more girls

And I still remember sitting there
a feeling of awe sweeping over me
then turn to my Army buddy,
"Tonight, my friend, we sleep on hallowed ground
for this is the land where
Geronimo and his Apaches
were born, raised then savagely erased
by the hands of our westbound fathers"

On that day
in that land
little changed
since the proud days
of his people
and his own youth

in an instant became one of my own

06/21/2007

Author's Note: I still look at the faded photographs of that three day hike up the Gila River headwaters. There are many things that we saw and felt on that trip and I am sure my friend remembers it fondly as well wherever he is.

Posted on 06/21/2007
Copyright © 2026 Tony Whitaker