As was often the case in my early 20's, I split up with a chick named Gina (4 in total) and went camping alone (in a different state) in order to clear my mind .

I decided I would travel from the desert basin to the peak of Mt Lemmon in the Santa Catalina National Forest of Arizona (just outside of Tucson).

The first day almost killed me. A fat guy from Wisconsin should NOT walk thru the freaking desert, ever! Then I reached the damn foothills and it was uphill from there.

Having grown up in Wisconsin it's hard to appreciate mountains. The look pretty in pictures and all, plus it seemed like a great idea when I made the plains.

However I never really realized that mountains are a pain in the ass to climb! Add 115 degrees to the first 20 miles of the journey and I was making a mental will.

I was rewarded for my journey with a perfect camp spot aside a seasonal waterfall. It was an idyllic setting where Cacti transitioned from Pinon and Pine. The waterfall fell about 15 feet into a deep cool pool of cool water.

I set up my little backpacker tent on a small out cropping overlooking the waterfall and made a wonderful meal of bagels and tequila.

After eating I went for an exhilarating swim in the mountain run-off water. It was fantastic!

I retired to my tent exhausted after a long day of hiking and the tequila helped me sleep until the sun warmed my tent to the temperature of a toaster oven.

After stepping out of my tent I realized something had gotten into my backpack. Upon closer inspection I found out whatever it was had taken a bite out of every remaining bagel and pooped on my shoulder strap

Undeterred, I decided to go for another swim before I left the beautiful site.

My first step into the water sent searing pain and a rush a red to the fast rushing stream.

I had stepped onto a large chunk of glass and cut my foot wide open. I was cursing the idiot who had decimated such a lovely site by dropping a bottle when I realized it was my bottle of tequila from the night before. Seems it fell from my perch and into the pool I was swimming in.

After cleaning up the glass I realized I had a 4 inch gash in my foot and was bleeding pretty well. My emergency kit contained a few bandages, dental floss and a sewing needle.

After numbing my foot in the cold water and controlling the blood loss I stitched my own foot and wrapped it in gauze and a shirt I cut up.

The next 15 miles (the easy part of the hike) were agonizing at best.

When I got the the emergency room they commented that I was “one of the few idiots who stitched himself well.”