I'm calling a cab

To hike or not to hike? "Not" is the right answer . And it's never better to ,"learn the hard way" after the age of 50. My sister, who apparently has mountain goat genes , invited me on what was billed as an easy 8 mile hike with her club in Palm Springs. Ok, I was on vacation, up for something new. It sounded like good exercise and we could spend some quality time chit chatting along the way. She woke me up at 6:00 a.m. to get ready. Huh? I hate 6:00 a.m. She was busy in the kitchen packing food and water into our backpacks when I dragged my sorry ass over to the coffee pot. Not a backpack! The last time I wore one I cried. I had to go back to bed , I needed more rest to carry everything. Oh God, what if I had to pee? "You squat behind a rock" my sister calmly advised me. Were those tears in my eyes?

Richard, our hike leader was an ex Navy navigator who handed each of us a map complete with land elevations and route . He was prepared and I was confused. I can't read a map, I flunked the Brownies. He made us yell a head count which was either the closet kindergarten teacher in him , or a sign he could lose one of us. I vowed to stick to him like freaking glue. We headed into Joshua Tree National Park at 9:30 a.m. and I looked back longingly at the bathroom near the entrance. Everytime we stopped to check the map I said the same thing, "Do you know where we are? Are we lost"? Richard glared at me but I wouldn't be deterred, "are you SURE you know where we are"? How can I explain what happened next? One of the men was attacked by a cactus. A jumping Cholla got him on the calf. Since when did plants jump? Enemy combatant plants were out there and no one told me. I was practically faint as I watched the clump of needles get removed from his leg with a comb. Richard said the needles can go through your hiking boots into the bones of your feet. Had I known about the killer cactus...I needed Valium. No, what I really needed was a TAXI!

We trudged on through the sand until the path lead us into a canyon with only one way out, and that was straight up. Did I mention the trail disappeared, replaced by giant boulders? My sister referred to this part of the day as "boulder scrambling". I preferred to call it, I hate hiking. I was getting very pissy and wanted to go home, but as Richard explained the "beauty" of hiking is you have to finish. I hated him also. I crawled up and over boulders on my hands and knees for 2 1/2 miles; so much for yesterday's manicure and my anterior cruciate ligament. Btw, my sister and I never did chit chat.

I almost burst into tears when I saw the car on the horizon. I loved the car. I was hot, sweaty, beet red, and practically toxic from not peeing. Five hours and 8.2 miles later I was not a better person nor hiker. Like I said before , TAXI !