It was mile 332 of the Arizona Trail on April 5 when I stood on top of a large rock and looked down where I needed to take another step downhill. The sun had just risen, and the dawn light was enough to switch off my headlamp. Since leaving my campsite at 4:30 a.m. my feet had already skidded several times on the loose, sandy soil on steep downhill terrain that sometimes had little rollers that attached to the tread of my shoes like marbles. I was inside the Superstition Wilderness at 4,500 feet elevation, where trees were short and scrubby, or just black skeletal remains from the wildfires that burned in recent years. There is little foliage to absorb the infrequent rainfall, thus pushing rocks to resting places on the trail I was hiking on. Every step I had taken that morning was measured and cautious.
After carefully lowering my right foot about 18 inches down from the large rock, the sole of my shoe abruptly skidded forward while my butt landed hard on the ground. Gravity took over, sending my right leg further downhill. My trekking poles did nothing to stop the slide. In that same second, my left foot was still firmly planted on the rock I had stepped off of. Inertia dragged my left ankle abruptly off the rock in an awkward twisting motion. A shot of pain was accompanied by a subtle popping sound as my body came to rest on the gravely surface.
