Yes, sir — that first backpacking trip with Herb was truly memorable. For this Cleburne boy, raised in the flat surroundings of Johnson County and later Tarrant County, the remarkable vistas I was able to see really impressed me.
First the Sandia Mountains outside Albuquerque; Shiprock at Farmington, New Mexico; Sunset Crater at Flagstaff; Havasu Canyon with its beautiful turquoise Havasu Creek; Navajo Falls; and Havasu Falls.
These amazing sites still remain etched in my memory since 1976 and continued to thrill me for the remaining 31 years that I participated in team teaching those wilderness courses. However, after I first viewed Havasu Falls those many years ago, Herb still had more panoramic scenery for me to experience.
After we played in the pool at Havaus Falls and swung on the rope, Herb then took us the next morning to another memorable spot. I had made the mistake of telling Herb about one of my phobias, acrophobia — a fear of heights. Unfortunately, if you are traveling to the Grand Canyon for the first time, that particular phobia is not too pleasant to possess. In addition, I also sometimes have the compulsion to jump from that said height.
Now, folks, you combine those two challenges, and I had a major problem on my hands. It reared its ugly head the next morning when Herb took us to see another wonder in Havasu Canyon. As we were hiking along, I could hear this roaring sound getting louder and louder.
Herb suddenly stopped the class and motioned to me, “Weldon — come here! I want to show you something; follow me.”
I obediently did so, and we approached the edge of this rocky terrain, with the roaring getting louder.
He then said, “Look here.“
I stepped up beside him, and we were standing at the top of Mooney Falls! I was looking down 200 feet to the bottom of this majestic, turquoise waterfall. My knees turned to absolute jelly; I had to stagger backwards and plop down on a rock. I needed to feel something solid under me as I fought this urgent demand to jump off. Naturally, Herb died laughing.
Then he led us on this treacherous trail leading down to the pool at the bottom of the falls. First we had to duck our heads and slowly make our way through this tunnel carved out of the rock. Then we came out on the face of this sheer cliff where we had to turn our backs to the falls, face the cliff and hang on to steel rods hammered into the rock face and also grab onto chains in order to scale down the remaining 80 feet of the cliff to reach the bottom. Brother, I was having second thoughts here — my heart was pounding out of my chest, my knees were trembling, but I had it to do.
There was no way I was going to back out. I gritted my teeth, never looked down, and prayed fervently until I reached the bottom.
Of course, once I was down, the scene was breathtaking — this beautiful, blue-green waterfall cascading down from 200 feet up into a seemingly tropical pool from Fantasy Island, surrounded by giant cottonwood trees. I climbed up on this 10-foot pedestal rock close to the waterfalls, dove into the falling water, and then swam through it. That sure surpassed anything I had ever experienced back in Cleburne or Fort Worth. After splashing around for an hour or so we tackled the climb back up. This was just as scary as coming down, but it was worth it to experience that beautiful place.
That afternoon Herb took us back up to Havasu Falls to play some more on the swinging rope. We would climb up into the tree a ways, grip the rope as high up as we could, then swing out to a height of about 20 feet above the water, and turn loose. Man, it was glorious.
Now back in Cleburne we caddies at the old golf course used to do something similar. On the west side of the course was a small creek, and we had tied a rope to a tree branch there, swung out, and dropped into the water, but the scenery there was not as spectacular and majestic as the grandeur all around me here in Havasu Canyon.
Later after supper came entertainment time, and again Herb’s somewhat sadistic nature came out, with me as the center of attention. As darkness fell, he stated that he could tell fortunes by reading people’s shoes, by looking inside them and reading them like tea leaves.
Naïve me, I really wanted to see this! Herb first called a male student to come forward and take off his shoe, which the student did.
Then Herb prophesied that the young man would meet the girl of his dreams when he returned home; everyone applauded.
Next Herb called up a girl, and she obediently took off her tennis shoe and handed it to him. Herb looked inside it and forecast that she soon was to inherit a million dollars from a long-lost uncle. Everyone really clapped upon hearing that.
Herb then said, “Weldon, let me see your shoe.”
Now I was still wearing my hiking boots, and I forewarned him that the boot might be a little odoriferous, but he was undeterred. He stared into my boot and calmly stated that I was going to go on a journey.
I exclaimed, “Oh, great! When?”
Herb replied, “Sooner than you think,” and then he hurled my boot as far as he could out into the darkness.
Darn him — I had to stumble over to my backpack, locate my flashlight and then hunt out in the bushes and trees for my “vacation” boot. It took me about 10 minutes, but I guess I should have been grateful that he did not toss it into Havasu Creek, for we were camping right beside it.
Well, guess what! The entertainment for the night was not over. Herb said he wanted to produce a skit for us, and he needed some help. He said to pretend he was “stranded” here in this canyon and needed to make a car to get out.
First he needed four tires, so he selected four students, who then got down on their hands and knees, playing like they were tires and spaced themselves out accordingly on the ground. He pressed an imaginary starter button, but no success. The car would not start.
He said, “Oh, I don’t have an engine” and selected another student to get down on his hands and knees in between the two front “tires.”
The car still would not fire up.
Herb then exclaimed, “Aha! I know what is missing — I need a radiator! Weldon, come here and get on your hands and knees in front of the engine.”
Knowing that I was something like the sacrificial lamb here, I reluctantly obeyed. Again Herb mashed the starter button, but the car still didn’t start.
Herb opined, “Oh, silly me — everyone knows that a radiator needs water in order for a car to run.”
After saying that, a student handed Herb a canteen, and he dumped it on my head. Thanks, Herb! I knew that more entertainment was sure to follow on the rest of the trip.
To be continued ...
Weldon Reed is a Cleburne
resident who recently
returned to his hometown.
He can be reached at
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