Published Friday, August 19, 2005 in East Valley Opinions of the Arizona Republic as “Risking death for a better life.” Have you ever sensed death in the desert? I did once.
At 6 a.m on Tuesday, May 22, 2001, 12 miles north of Payson, I left on my bicycle bound for Tempe. I stopped at Bashas’ in Payson to pick up some food for breakfast and departed with 4 liters of water; it wasn’t bad at first but the sun and dry air were unrelenting, sucking moisture from my body. I drank. Sixty miles and a few mountains later my water pack was dry, and then I accidentally spilled my last water bottle refilling it. My legs got limp; my speed slowed. Thankfully I arrived at the Bush Highway and a few miles later eagerly jumped into Saguaro Lake, drank from my refilled bottle, and called my wife for a ride home.
That’s nothing compared to what 26 brave souls endured who, unbeknownst to me as I cycled, wandered in the unforgiving Arizona desert just north of the border in 108 degree heat. As recounted in Luis Urrea’s The Devil’s Highway, they hailed from the southern Mexican tropics and had no experience with desert. All had taken out a loan against future earnings in los Estados Unidos to pay the coyotes. Fourteen died. Death did not come swiftly. Their mouths dried and tongues swelled. Some tore off all their clothes as their nerve endings stung from the faintest brush of fabric. They baked from the inside out. Their body’s organs shut off one by one, trying to stave off death. Read the rest of this entry »