The Tinker's Quill: Blood on the mountain, cactus spikes in my ass

Like every Sunday, I hitch a ride to the Magdalena Mtns. with my good friends Bubba and Bob. We arrive at the gate way up Jordan Canyon, the one just before the road splits. Not a gate anywhere the last time I was up here, what, eighteen-nineteen years ago, climbing with 'Drew? Yeah, that sounds about right.

Damn. That was a long time ago.

We each get our gear together, then hold a “safety meeting” before we go our separate ways.

Me, pointing west: "Bubba, I'll be on the road til I get up near that giant boulder."
Bubba: "Or fifty yards to either side? You never stay on the trail! You’re gonna fall off the mountain again. HAHAHA!"
Me: "HA! For real. I’ll stay on the trail."

Bubba hits his Camel again, points to the east, way up on 10,000 ft high North Baldy and squeaks out through slowly leaking blue smoke: "We'll be up there. You sure you'll be all right?"

Me: "Dude..."

I hike off the trail for a while in the upper reaches of the canyon without a hitch. See a big black bear and lots of elk sign. Deer. Antelope down on the llano. Squirrels. Wild cattle. Birds singing.

It’s March. The sun feels good on my aching, titanium reinforced bones.

Winter hurts me.

Spectacular views of the Llano de San Agustin, but damn, there’s cholla, prickly pear, barrel cacti, Spanish bayonet and yucca everywhere.

I'm scrambling down a steep hill 200 yards off the trail on the way back. Gotta go around a 30 ft boulder/cliff and a serious cholla cactus patch. Lots of limestone, mostly scree and unconsolidated jagged cobbles. Could see the truck, though.

Wait... What's that? A huge, awesome rock full of drusy quartz pockets shining in the sun. Hmmmm... Gotta have it. I'll just give it a kick and let it roll down the hill to the truck. Is that serendipitous or what?
I kick the rock.
Oh shit!

Sky, trees, rocks, trees, sky, trees, rocks...
"Oomph, ow, snap, crackle, pop, oh shit..."
BAM! Oh my freaking ribs.
BAM! Oh my freaking ass.

BAM! Oh my freaking face.
Can't see for the blood in my eyes.
BAM!
Upside down, head over heels, head over heels, rolling, rolling, faster, faster.
BAM!
Where's my freaking cane?
CRUNCH! WHOOF!
Oh shit. HAHAHA! No sharp pains... Whew! HAHAHA! Oh hell! I fell off the damn mountain. Again. OUCH!... Freaking cacti... Freaking rocks.... Why can't I see?

I just sit there for 15 minutes, hoping I’m all right. I hurt, but I’ve known worse. I didn’t even lose the pistol clipped to my belt above my left hip. I landed on it though. The walnut grip is scratched and scraped. It left a vicious bruise.

Good thing it belongs to RB.

Carefully, trying to take a deep breath, I crawl back up the hill and fetch my cane from a crook in the roots of a juniper tree, then make my way very slowly down to the truck and just lean against the bed, slumped and shaking.

Bob shows up five minutes later.

Bob: "WTH happened to you, brother?"
Me: "I took the short way down the mountain. WTH does it look like, Bob?"
Bob is impervious, as usual: "Oh... well then... let me reconstruct the crime scene! High velocity blood spatter here, way up there and... damn... how did blood get up a tree? Fabric on the cholla. Skin on the rocks, landslide over here.... "
Me: "Bob. Just shut the hell up and wipe the blood outta my eyes. This ain't freaking CSI..."
Bob, wiping the blood off my face: "Dude, red, black and blue look good on you."
Me: "Up yours, Bob."

Bob: <snicker>

Freaking Bob.

Bubba shows up a few minutes after that, lights a Camel, takes off his hat, raises an eyebrow at me. His shaved head gleams in the bright sunlight. Heavy silver earrings make him look like a genial pirate... or an avuncular soul trader.

“Don’t even say it, bro... I’m serious,” I say.

He smirks at me. “Toldja so. And give me back my pistol.”

Damn it!

The half-hour ride back down primitive Forest Road 505A is brutal. 6-inch gash in my right calf needs stitches. Two holes in the left don't. Right thumb the size of a bratwurst. Cuts and scrapes on my face. Cholla spikes poking out of my ass like a porcupine. Right side, buttocks and lower back all black and blue. Right eye swelling shut fast. Can't cough or laugh, but something that has been out of kilter in my spine seems to have snapped back in place, maybe something in my head, too. When the bruising subsides, I'll be better off than when I started!