Santa Cruz River
The true story of Karsten Hansen on an Arizona hiking trail
There arises in south central Arizona the Santa Cruz River that swings south into Arizona eventually merging with the Gila River. In the 18th century the Santa Cruz River flowed year round, and the Spanish established a mission at Tumacacori, and a few miles north a Presidio (fort) at Tubac. Tumacacori is approximately 30 miles north of the Mexican border, and currently the river is generally considered dry, and the only ongoing river flow is related to effluvium discharge from Nogales, Mexico and Nogales, Arizona and this water sinks into the sandy river bottom long before Tucson, approximately 30 miles north of Tumacacori. Running north from Tumacacori to Tubac, a distance of approximately 4 miles, is the famous San Juan Bautista de Anza trail. Tourists come by the busload to walk this trail.
The trail along the Santa Cruz River is usually in the riparian basin and essentially follows the river, sometimes on bluffs above the river and other times in the trees and shrubbery bordering the river. The river itself is crossed twice, once at the beginning, and the second time towards the end of the trail.
Karsten Hansen and a nephew were visiting another nephew, and niece, in Southern Arizona and Karsten's hiking ordeal started one sunny August day, following a morning monsoon cloudburst in the Tumacacori area. He was enticed by his silver tongued nephews to walk the San Juan Bautista de Anza trail from Tumacacori to Tubac. Little did he realize that he was about to enter a twilight zone of trail hiking. Approximately a quarter of a mile into the walk the trail crossed the Santa Cruz River, which the early morning rains made about a foot deep, swift and muddy. On each side of the river were wide flats of dark sticky mud that had to be negotiated.
Karsten started the walk with heavy brown socks and two pair of shoes. He was wearing lightweight slip-ons ordered from Haband, and carrying a pair of strap on shoes from K-Mart that cost $7 dollars. Upon close questioning, he has never revealed just why he had two pairs of shoes for the hike, or why he brought four different pairs of shoes along on his visit to Arizona. At this point the story digresses briefly to Karsten's youth when he was young and poor. As the youngest child in his family, his shoes were hand-me-downs from older siblings, and as his next oldest sibling was a sister, he learned to walk in high heels by age four, although he preferred pumps. Perhaps this where Karsten's fascination with shoes and socks started, although it does not explain his preference for the color yellow in socks and shirts.
As Karsten and his nephews (who are no longer in his will) started across the mud flats and muddy river, a herd of free range cattle crossed the river above them, stirring up the effluvia and mud in the river. It was at this juncture that Karsten began questioning the hiking venture, including the intelligence of his nephews and his own intelligence for letting them talk him into the hike. He proposed returning to the van where they had been left off for the hike, and seemed surprised and upset that the van driver had gone up to Tubac to pick them up at the end of the hike. He had no choice but to continue the hike. Thus began the mumbled invectives, questions about the parentage of his nephews, and continuous verbalized discontent.
It was also at this point that he began to point out the plethora of ants along the trail, raising the point that any pause in the hike could result in being overwhelmed by swarms of ants. He never lost an opportunity to point out the ants along the trail. According to him, there were large ants, small ants, black ants, red ants, and miscellaneous ants. Not once did he mention the leafhoppers, grasshoppers, butterflies, birds, lizards, Fremont Cottonwoods, Hackberry trees, or scinic vistas of the Santa Rita Mountains. He was fixated on the damn ants and his nephews began to think he was seeing ants that no one else was seeing.
Not long after the the first crossing of the river Karsten began having problems keeping his lightweight slip-on shoes on because of the mud in the trail. Soon the backs of the cheap Haband shoes began to break down making it even harder for him to traverse the various mud puddles and mud flats scattered on the trail. He was counseled by his nephews to remove the slip-ons and brown socks, clean his feet, and then wear the $7 dollar leather shoes that had Velco strips to keep the shoes on tight. Karsten declined the advice, continued to carry the clean leather shoes, and increased the level of his vocalization of his discontent with his nephews, the muddy trail, and now his slip-ons.
Approximately two miles into the hike he would sometimes shed his slip-ons, and eschewing the leather shoes, begin to walk in his brown stocking feet. After a while he would again try to wear the slip-ons. A new level of invective was reached as he continued the hike. Of course he continued to carry the leather shoes. It should be noted that while Karsten had reported that he had lost the use of one third of his original lung capacity, on the hike he was never so short of breath that he could not revile his nephews or point out the plethora of ants, with less than a second's hesitation to draw each new breath. His unrelenting discourse concerning the hike caused the nephews to believe that their uncle's original lung capacity could only have been slightly less than an elephant.
The second crossing of the Santa Cruz River, about mile three, presented a much wider body of swiftly flowing muddy water of undetermined depth. The tallest of the nephews crossed first, claiming that the water was less than knee deep. Karsten protested that knee deep on the nephew could by up to his waist, and was very hesitant to cross. The other nephew took the leather shoes from him, and carried the shoes across the river. This apparently was the carrot to a bulky mule, and Karsten followed the nephew across the river in his stocking feet, carrying the slip-ons. Once across the river, and now up on a bluff above the river, he tried for the last time to wear the slip-ons, without success. This trial with the Haband shoes was accompanied by a torrent of ugly language directed at the mud, the river, the shoes, the trail, and his nephews. He did take time out from the tirade to comment on the ants. Not once did he seem out of breath. Wearing only his brown socks and carrying his clean leather shoes, Karsten continued his hike.
With less than a half a mile to go, the trail entered a large muddy area, and the nephews deviated over a small berm, under some mesquite trees, and through a barbed wire fence. Karsten stopped at the fence and held up a very large mesquite thorn and claimed that he had pulled the thorn from his foot. His manner implied that since he had a thorn in his paw, his nephews should also. The nephews were skeptical about the thorn. They had not heard any outburst from Karsten when the thorn allegedly lodged in his foot, and based on experience on the trail, their uncle was not one to suffer in silence, especially a thorn over an inch long. Once through the fence, and while seated and adjusting his socks, he claimed that he actually had three thorns in his foot, a significant deviation from his original story. He did not remove his socks to show the wounds, but did announce that it was a good thing he had not put cotton between his toes, or his feet would really hurt. Later it was learned that his sox were full of cotton, apparently originally placed between his toes. It was also at this point that Karsten verbally gave his slip-ons to the nephew that wore his same shoe size. Earlier on the trail he reported that he was going to leave the slip-ons along the trail for migrant Mexicans. But now that his slip-ons were ruined beyond all use, not only was the nephew out of the Will, he was now the recipient of shoes that could not be worn, wet or dry. The nephew was given a pair of shoes that his uncle did not think even an illegal migrant would try to wear.
Karsten finished the hike in his brown sox, carrying his slip-ons in one hand while a nephew carried his leather shoes. Once at the pick-up point, a hose was found and he removed his brown socks, cleaned his feet, put on clean socks without showing any spot on his foot that would reflect being impaled by an inch long mesquite thorn. Once his feet were clean and he had put on his clean socks, he put on the leather shoes that had been carried the four miles. His nephews cleaned their shoes, and put on clean socks and drove home in silence. The silence was only interrupted by their uncle's repeated announcement that never again would he listen to his nephews, or go hiking with them. This was the only good news they had heard for over two hours.
Epilogue
Once back at his nephew's house, and after a soak in a spa, Karsten put on a pair of tennis type shoes, very similar to the shoes that his nephews had worn on the hike. The question is why didn't he wear the tennis type shoes on the hike, since he was advised at the house before the hike that his nephews were wearing tennis type walking shoes, and he should do the same. It should be noted that in addition to the commentary on the ants during the hike, the nephews were also told, over and over and over again that leather shoes breathed and that is why they were better shoes to wear than nylon and leather walking shoes. The closest statement from Karsten that can be construed as an answer to the above question as to why he did not wear his tennis type shoes on the hike is his report that the tennis type shoes cost more than the slip-ons. They were mostly nylon and hot to wear, and the leather shoes he carried on the hike were more comfortable to wear because the leather breathed.
(I couldn't resist adding pictures to this funny adventure)
