Up the ridge and back down into Molino Canyon. The shadows are deep now making the dichotomy of light and shadow hard on the eyes. From the bottom of Molino canyon to the top of the next ridge, we made good time. Then we began the descent into Agua Caliente Canyon with its steep grades and even steeper cliffs. As we descended the first switch back, I again found myself back on the paranoia plane. Only this time, I had an isle seat and couldn't see out the window. The driver side was now to the uphill face of the cliff face. Instinctively, I kept the truck close to the face. By now we had been off the road for over 5 hours and fatigue combined with the stress of steep grades was setting in - in spades. For one critical instant, the front of the Blazer went into the shadows, while the windshield was still in the sun. Wham!

The roll was slow, almost surreal, and only lasted perhaps 5 seconds. But 5 seconds was more than enough. In the instant of reduced visibility I had hit a boulder protruding from the face with the left front wheel. The forward momentum of the truck combined with a "toward the cliff" slope on the road, cause to Blazer to corkscrew to the cliff's edge.

The truck was leaning on the passenger side, teetering on the brink of the abyss of the north face of Agua Caliente Canyon. I remember watching as the center console between the front bucket seats disgorged its contents onto Andy. A cascade of wrenches, sockets, pliers and a flashlight fell on the side of his head. He cried out in pain and fear as we both looked down the cliff through the passenger window.

Sam was screaming "We're going to die! Get out! Get Out!". I was shouting "Hold still, we're still rocking, if you keep moving we'll roll for sure!".

For several very long seconds we all hung there from our seat belts like rag dolls. Finally, I said "We have to get out, but carefully". Initially, I thought we could kick out the back window, but that would require us to exit underneath the truck. Not good form. I finally decided that I would exit via the drive side door. I managed to undo my seat belt by bracing my right leg on the transfer case lever. Once undone, I stood on the lever and pushed on the door. Hard. Harder. The door must be jammed! No, just very heavy. Finally I got it pushed up enough to get through. I was quickly followed by Andy and then Sam. With each person's exit from the Blazer, it rocked precariously. Once I was clear, I figured that my first mission was to stabilize the truck. I got behind and below to assess the situation and discovered that only the springy, resilient boughs of a Mesquite tree had saved us from certain death. As long as the branches held, the truck would not roll. Once both Andy and Sam were out of the truck and the palpitations wore off, we had to made a decision what to do.

There was no way we could right the truck given our current set of tools. With no supplies in the truck and no flat ground in sight, it seemed that the only logical thing to do was the go for help. And fast. The twilight was thick now and would only get worse.

We assessed what we had in the truck. One flashlight, 2 - .22 pistols, 1 - .22 rifle, ammo, tools. I decided that we would take the guns with us, leave the ammo and tools. And so we went. On foot down that steep grade toward the bottom of Agua Caliente Canyon.

It took about 30 minutes to make it to the bottom of the canyon. looking back up the cliff at my once virgin truck, it looked like a speck on the hill, barely visible. Well, I said I'd fix that cherry, right?

Once at the wash, we turned downstream to the west, the glow from the lights of Tucson visible beyond the outline of the hills. For a water course, Agua Caliente Canyon is steep. We boulder crawled for the next three hours. Down steep drop-offs, between large boulder, over logs and through cracks in the rocks. By now the moon had risen in the east - good thing too, because the batteries in the flashlight was gone belly up.

Wet and cold, I was wishing for a quick end to this ordeal. I figured that once we were out of the canyon, it would be a short hike to a road, then to a house with a phone. Once at a phone, we'd call my girlfriend Holly and have her come pick us up. Seemed like a solid plan.

We exited the canyon about 9 PM. Totally soaked from the waist down, and squeaking as we walked. The backcountry equivalent of Jim Croce's "Working at the Car Wash Blues". Finally, lights! There was a ranch house ahead. Stopping to consider how we might be viewed by the occupant of said ranch house, Sam and Andy stayed close to the road with the guns, and I went to the house to knock on the door.

I knocked and knocked and knocked. Finally a voice said "What do you want". I explained my situation, that I rolled my truck, that I hiked down the canyon, that I wanted to call my girl friend to pick me up, that I had wet, muddy boots...

The rancher said "Just a minute". Several minutes, actually. When I was let in, I felt very ill at ease. Couldn't really put my finger on it, but ill at ease. I called Holly. She was waiting by the phone, worried sick, and answered it on the first ring. I explained what had happened and that I wanted her to come pick us up. I tried to tell her where we were as best I could and she said she'd come ASAP. Recognizing of course, that she was on the other side of the valley and perhaps 45 minutes away.

When I finished the phone call, I realized why I had felt so nervous: the rancher was behind me with his shotgun pointed at my back! What I didn't know was that there had been an escape from the prison camp on Mount Lemon that afternoon. And of course, if one was going to get away from the prison camp, you would come down one of the arroyos. And of course, you would have to make up some kind of bullshit story as to why you were out there in the middle of the night, wet, with muddy boots. Figuring that discretion is the better of valor, I expressed my heartfelt thanks to Mr. Rancher and hauled ass out of there. We hiked toward the Mt. Lemon highway figuring that's where we would meet Holly. We finally did, but by now it was almost midnight. Boy, were we glad to sit in a warm car. Whoever says the desert is warm even in winter obviously hasn't been there. Three sad, wet, hungry sacks of shit sitting in that car, getting a lecture from my girl friend! She's bitching about me not calling! Yo, Holly! Cellular phones wouldn't be invented for another 10 years. No pay phone in Agua Caliente canyon either.

Needless to say, given the long walk, the cold, and the stress, I didn't have any trouble getting to sleep. But, sometimes even dreamless sleep can't hide the waking world's problems.