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Some say Elisha Reavis was crazy." That's what I tell my hiking pal, Dave Wist, as our vehicle lurches over ruts and boulders. We are far back in the Superstition Mountains on a dirt road fit for pickup trucks.

"Anyway," I continue, "Reavis came into these mountains about 1871. It's told that one night marauding Apache surrounded his cabin. Suddenly, Reavis, stark naked, burst out through the doorway and began leaping about in a wild manner. The Apache, believing that anyone who harms a crazy person will come to a similar end, broke and ran and never bothered him again. So, maybe he wasn't nuts. Maybe he just wanted to be left alone."

Dave cranes his neck and looks back down the spaghetti-loop road that wiggles its way toward the desert floor nearly 3,000 feet below. "No," he says, "anyone who would stay up in these mountains for 25 years has got to be nuttier than a piece of peanut-brittle."

The road continues from bad to worse until it finally plays out in a canyon known as Roger's Trough. We step into a silence made eerie by the stories of bushwhacked prospectors, lost gold, and skeletons in lonely gulches.

We strap on water bottles, stuff peanut-butter sandwiches into our pockets, and strike out on a trail heading northwest. We seek the grave of Elisha Reavis.

The trail winds down canyon, following a streambed that sports a heavy growth of sycamore, hackberry, and walnut trees. Far above us, malformed protrusions of ancient rock stand like ominous sentinels on the ridges.

"Reavis had no apparent interest in gold," I tell Dave. "Somewhere between here and the Apache Trail, he built a cabin in a clearing and planted an orchard and vegetable garden. He hauled his produce on burros over those mountains to the mining camps of Superior and Globe."

WHEN YOU GO

To get to the Reavis Trail from Phoenix, take U.S. Route 60 east through Florence Junction. Two miles east of Florence Junction on U.S. 60, turn north on Queen Valley Road. Go 1.7 miles and turn right on Hewitt Station Road. After three miles, turn left at the sign that says "Roger's Trough 12 miles." After 9.3 miles, turn right at the sign that says "Roger's Trough three miles." The road from this point (Forest Service Road 172A) is not suitable for low-clearance vehicles. Park in the clearing at the end of the road.

The trail is accessed through an opening in a cable fence at the north side of the clearing. After about 100 yards, you'll see a wooden trail marker that denotes West Pinto Trail to the right. Stay left on Reavis Trail. For the balance of the hike, refer to directions in the story. If you miss the grave, you will know it when you start to ascend the left (north) slope of the canyon through thick manzanita and oak brush. Return to the bottom of the streambed and look more carefully for the dead juniper and cut logs.

By William Hafford TRACKING REAVIS' GRAVE IN THE RUGGED SUPERSTITION WILDERNESS

Although the country surrounding us is almost frighteningly rugged, the hike to the grave is a leisurely round-trip of approximately 4.8 miles. After about 1.5 miles, a wooden trail marker indicates that the fork to the right is the continuance of the Reavis Trail. We take it and work upstream through a canyon angling northeast.

The critical part of this hike is the approach to the grave. The trail into this tributary canyon stays on the right side of the stream for about .6 of a mile, then crosses to the left. "Now watch for a large dead juniper tree to the left of the trail," I tell Dave. "If my directions are correct, we'll locate some sawed logs lying on each side of the path. After another .3 of a mile (give or take a few hundred feet), Dave locates the dead juniper, then points into the manzanita brush bordering the trail. Sure enough. There are the cut logs, partially covered by low-growing foliage.

A few paces beyond, we switch to a dim side trail to the left and then, after about 30 paces, break into a small clearing where a mound of boulders appears to grow out of the dry grass: Reavis' grave.

Sometime in the spring of 1896, the decomposed body of Elisha Reavis was found in this clearing. It appeared to some he was murdered.

After a few moments of reverential silence, we sit in the warm sun a few feet from his resting place, munching our sandwiches. "Would you like to camp up here?" I ask Dave.

"Don't think so," he replies. "You believe those stories about the Superstitions?"

"Not a word," he replies. Then he smiles. "But I've got a vivid imagination."

I'm like Dave. It was a nice hike, but I'll be out of the Superstitions before nightfall. Count on it.