We pulled into the parking area wondering if we were in the correct spot.  Could this be it?  We hoped.  Getting out to read the sign, we noticed what looked like quite a few different trail heads.  Hoping that we read the map correctly and being that it was already 8 am, we headed out.  Sedona is higher up in the mountains and so was potentially cooler than in Phoenix, we had not acclimated to the temperature just quite yet. I was already sweating.  The trail led us into a gully or a wash providing just a bit of shade.  The sun rose higher bring hotter temperatures with it as we took step after step.  Looking up at the towering rock formations I wasn’t sure which one we would be circling, nor where the over hangs were on the trail. As I searched for a glimpse of the trail ahead, I noticed a hawk catching thermals, gliding along on the hunt for food in the gully below.  It would suddenly rise 100 ft or more and then descend quickly only to catch the next thermal, graceful and effortless.  Over a small lip and around a bend, I noticed a saddle where I assumed we were headed.  The rocks were worn smooth by rains or wind or both and so we followed the painted dots that marked the path. They took us over the saddle and to the north side of the large rock formation.  Searching for the next white dot, the only marker of a trail we came upon mountain bikers.  I realized that the white dots were the actual path for the mountain bikes.  They put their tires on the dots and not deviate  going  down the hill.  It was precarious. A wrong turn, a slip could send them over and down skipping and sliding.  Someone had gone through and ridden the route painting as they biked down for the next person to follow.  Around the bend juniper trees, over head cliffs and various bushes provided shade that we gratefully took advantage of. The trail meandered along, winding up and down, back and forth until the next saddle.  Up and over to the rocky cliffs jutting out over canyons and dry creek beds.  Slowly it descended, barely a trail marked by the white dots we had so far been following.  Over an edge that we couldn’t see and into a coulee that led us to Cow Pie trail.  We followed this trail into a smooth rock river bed and I couldn’t help but think of not wanting to be here during a flash flood.  It would be something to witness as long as you were above it and not in it.  The cow Pie Trail led us to the Munds Wagon Trail so named after a man who took his wagon up to mine for gold. I couldn’t imagine driving anything up the trail let alone a wagon.  I just don’t know how it would have been able to go over some of the rocks or around the bends.  It seemed too steep and narrow.  As we climbed back into our rig, all I could think of was pizza and beer.