We are still intrepid. Well, sort of.

Let's go on a hike today, I said.

Okay, he agreed.

That Steelhead Falls trail looks pretty easy, I said. Only four miles round trip.

Well, the hiking guide said "moderate", and "take hiking poles and wear sturdy shoes and be prepared for a boulder field and steep trails".

But, what the heck, we are seasoned hikers and "moderate" sounded easy enough.

By the time we lazed around on this beautiful morning, did some laundry, ate brownies and cookies for breakfast, went to the farmers' market by the fire station, and finally arrived at the trail head, it was almost noon. A little bit warm. But we were intrepid (which I have decided is tied closely to "ignorant", "naive", and "clueless") and off we went.

The beginning of the trail was easy enough.

The vistas were spectacular.

I was leading the way along what I thought was an obvious trail, but after a bit of back-tracking to find the real thing, Jeff pointed out what should have been obvious to me.

Trail markers.

Things went a little better after that.

For a while.

I ignored the gullies left by water in the springtime, which certainly looked like trails to me.

We knew we had to descend this cliff somehow.

A few more back-tracks and Jeff decided it was time for him to lead the way.

The situation started to look a little precarious.

If you know Jeff and me, we are slightly inclined to be disaster-prone on escapades like this.

It was getting to be mighty hot, and we appreciated the rocky overhangs and occasional juniper tree.

We wondered what lived in these holes.

It is a different beauty over here in the high desert, and the rivers are solace to the soul.

I think this is a ponderosa pine, which is pretty unusual in these parts.

Um, yes, this part of the trail was a little daunting. Narrow and precarious.

In fact, it doesn't really look like a trail at all, does it?

Back on stable ground, we were happy to see this old beaver dam.

I doubt this trail is navigable in the spring, as the bullrushes were growing about ten feet above us.

Suddenly, the trail seemed to dead-end in a bunch of boulders.

Oh yeah.

Boulder field.

So this is what the guide was talking about.

Want to see what a boulder field looks like from the other side of the river?

There ya go.

Only the one on the other side didn't have as much vegetation mixed into the equation.

We became trepidatious, rather than intrepid, and made out way s-l-o-w-l-y over the boulder field, which rather reminded us of the ill-fated Mt. St. Helen's climb. The trail was almost non-existent and we were second-guessing ourselves most of the time, wondering why we had ever begun this hike at all. 

I am pretty sure that this is where a woman had to get life-flighted out of the canyon earlier in the summer when she put her hand on a rock without looking and got bitten by a rattlesnake. I told Jeff that I will never judge anyone for that again. 

We finally got through the boulder field and concurred that we would never attempt this hike again.

And that we would not return the same way. 

Things got much better after that, except for the heat. 

I decided that, considering that we saw no other people on this trail, that we were the only ones stupid enough to hike it on this hot afternoon.

Jeff tried to coax me into joining him, but I decided not to tempt fate.

Supposedly, the trail to Steelhead Falls was only two miles long, but it was starting to feel much longer. I suspect I was suffering from a bit of heat exhaustion, as Jeff had insisted I wear jeans because of rattlesnakes. 

Now, my question is, will a rattlesnake bite through denim? 

Maybe skinny jeans weren't the best solution.

He also advised me to beat the bushes and rocks as we forged through them, warning the rattlesnakes that we were coming so that they could run away, which bit of folklore I'm not sure I believed.

Anyway, every time we turned a corner, I expected to see a waterfall.

And, finally, we did.

And there was much jubilation!

Large trees growing out of rocks are cool.

Apparently, the local kids like to jump off the rocks into the water, although it is discouraged because of the danger. Which probably only makes it more appealing to the younger set.

Here is the river above the falls.

We decided to take the half-mile trail to a closer parking lot and the plan was for Jeff to walk back to the first lot and get the car, as I was exhausted.

I sat on a rock in the shade of a tree and Jeff started up the gravel road. A few minutes later a man and woman (to whom we had spoken earlier) came into view and told me that we should have probably gone back the way we came, boulder field and all, as it was about three times as long again to go back on the road. I must have looked crestfallen, because he told me not to worry, that he would take care of it. 

He and his friend left in his red pickup truck and there I sat, hoping that they would find my intrepid man.

I sat and contemplated my dusty hiking boots.
Thanks, Barb, they served me well today.

And about thirty minutes later, along comes Jeff in his trusty Sebring. Turns out it was about ten miles back to the car. Gulp.
And thank you, Jeff Davis, who lives just down the road from us (as it turns out) for being our saviour today.
You know, I fully expected to be saved by someone today, and my faith was fully justified.

And after we got home and showered the dust from our tired bodies, I decided that we survived the trail quite well, and that some cooler day we might try it again.
Because we are intrepid that way.