Things are heating up

Gilbert, Arizona. So hot that I yelped when I tried to close the car door. We left the car windows cracked when we got out in case the windows burst from the heat.

We apparently broke a record today at 114 degrees Fahrenheit (around 47 degrees celsius). The last record was at 113 degrees in 1991. Crazy.

J took me hiking to see some petroglyphs (ancient etchings by Native American Indians) along a parched pottery-red trail, lined with equally thirsty cacti. Since I had stayed up the night before, catching up on all my work emails, J didn't wake me up till 9:00 am. We set out with J shaking his head, hardly believing that we were crazy enough to head out at this time. Aside from being a little surprised at the assaulting heat, I felt confident, determined even to show that I was well-fortified by the Hong Kong summers. Once on the trail, I was more generous with taking photos than sips of my water bottle. I wanted to save my H20, for the time when my cells actually cried out for it. I drank in the surrounding scenery instead, rattling off questions about the make up of cacti. 

So I was a little confused when my legs started missing their target rocks. My ankle buckled on narrow ledges. I was pricked by a "jumping cactus," which buried its sharp spines through my shoe into my foot. And my head felt light.

But otherwise, I felt perfectly fine. And I didn't even want any water. 

J became insistent. He kept stopping, refusing to go further until I took sips every few steps. He carefully led me down slopes with loose rocks. He hurried to head back once we saw our first petroglyphs. And he kept refilling my water bottle with his every time I turned my back. 

Later, when we were back in the car, J explained to me that I started to exhibit the symptoms of dehydration, especially the decreasing desire to drink water. Apparently, people died of dehydration in Arizona, found with all their hiking gear and full bottles of water all the time.

Hmm. I still think that J overreacted though.