Meet one of the 'water angels' on Camelback Mountain

Under a piercing blue sky, with the air temperature peaking just over 100 degrees and humidity near 21 percent, the man in dusty sneakers points a digital thermometer at the blacktop.

He’s mopping beads of sweat from his brow in the parking lot at the base of Echo Canyon Trail in east Phoenix. He’s already navigated the winding pathway once on this Tuesday morning, pounding past dry desert brush, climbing a stairway carved into the earth, making his way closer to the Arizona sun.

After wrapping a Band-Aid around a cut on his finger, Scott Cullymore would climb Camelback Mountain again, 2,704 feet to the highest peak and about 1.3 miles each way, on a trail Phoenix has given a rating to warn novice hikers: “Extremely Difficult.”

Cullymore hikes this trail every day and he likes to know what kind of heat he'll face before making his way upward. He glances at the thermometer.

“The blacktop’s 130 degrees,” he says, shaking his head, “and with the humidity … it’s brutal.”

He reaches into his carpet-cleaning work van to refill his orange backpack. He fills the bag until it's bulging at the seams with icy water bottles. Then he pulls the thin black straps over his shoulders. He’s ready to go.

By the time Cullymore returns to the lot after his second hike, he’ll have given away 17 water bottles. Each one went to someone who underestimated the heat, how much water they needed or the difficulty of the trail.

They call him the 'water angel'

Cullymore has earned a nickname.

People call him the "water angel." He’s part of a small group of Arizonans who hike Camelback Mountain religiously.

They carry extra water, snacks and watch out for hikers in distress. Some like Cullymore are so good at hydrating 24 hours beforehand — when most experts recommend drinking water before undertaking an arduous physical activity in the scorching Phoenix heat — they don’t even need to carry water on the hike.

Cullymore had gotten to the point where he was drinking water before and after his hike, but avoided carrying water on the trail, a round-trip he can now make in about 45 minutes.

But he had second thoughts when he saw people suffering on the trail.

“They underestimate how much water they need,” he says. “If you’re seeing them and they’re just hunkering down trying to find any shade and their face is just flush red, they’re not sweating anymore.”

Cullymore was on the mountain last July when firefighters found a 48-year-old English woman dead in a ravine. She had been hiking Echo trail at about 9:30 a.m. with her son and husband, who went back down the mountain ahead of her.

Rescuers searched for nearly six hours before a police helicopter spotted her body.

Cullymore remembers the sound of the helicopter circling above him and the whining emergency sirens.

“They underestimate the mountain and they overestimate what they can do, and they get themselves in trouble,” he says.

So Cullymore started carrying waters and snacks, handing them out to passing hikers. A few times he’s walked people down the mountain where they called for help.

In the city, but in the desert, too

Dirt and rocks crunch under Cullymore's sneakers. He stops to look at the bird's-eye view of the city. He stares down at distant backyard pools at nearby houses nestled against the peak.

“It’s misleading that we’re in the middle of the city and you can actually die up here and no one would know,” he says.

Cullymore said he thinks of Camelback Mountain as an Arizona treasure. He likes the idea of being among a community of hikers who want people to make it home safe.

“It’s all about coming here and enjoying our state," he says. "Let them have a positive experience up here and they’ll be able to take it home and have a good story instead of a bad one, which there’s too many of those that happen up here."

On Memorial Day, Cullymore handed out popsicles on his hike. On the July 4 weekend, he'll do it again.

On the hike up Camelback, where the view of the city stretches across the desert, a father and his 21-year-old twin daughters are about a quarter of the way up the peak.

They stop to read a trail sign with details about the Echo trail. There’s a checklist of recommended safety gear. At the top of the list: "Water (at least 1 liter per person)."

There’s a photo of a young man; he’s smiling in the picture.

“Clint McHale was a young, fit, avid hiker who loved hiking on Camelback. Clint chose to hike off the trail, slipped and died from the fall.”

In red at the bottom of the checklist: “Now is a good time to STOP and consider whether you should continue to the summit!”

The trio take sips of their water and decides to keep hiking. They say an Arizona friend told them they shouldn’t leave Phoenix without getting in a scenic desert hike.

“We’re here to see the Phillies play,” Gabby Bamberski says. “We wanted to check out the view. It’s beautiful.”

They read the warnings about the heat and the tough trail.

“If you’re halfway through your water, turn around,” Jackie says, reciting something she'd read on one trail sign.

Joseph, the twins’ dad, lifts up his water bottle. He shakes it and says he’s down to a quarter of a bottle.

They round the trail corner, deciding they’ll continue upward.

Heat takes a toll on hikers

Over one weekend in June, six hikers died statewide. Phoenix leaders are concerned that warnings signs about excessive heat and people who have died on the trail may not be enough. The city was considering a proposal to close its hiking and biking trails during excessive heat, hoping that closing the trail will save lives. But the city decided to keep trails open in extreme heat after a backlash from hikers.

Cullymore worries a ban would keep experienced hikers who watch out for novices off the trail.

“I think it may make things worse,” he says. “When people come from out of town and want to hike, they’ll find a way. Now you have someone with no experience up there alone.”

About 10 minutes after the Bamberskis continued hiking up the mountain, they’re making their way back down to the warning sign.

“We got up a bunch of stairs, and it was straight up after that,” Gabby says.

“We’re not that skilled,” Jackie says.

Joseph puts his arms around his girls before hiking back down the mountain. His shout of “Go Phillies,” echoes across the rocks.

Cullymore handed out seven or eight waters on the first lap up Camelback. On his second time up, just near the top, he hands out more water.

Austin Hill is visiting with a crew of high school friends. It’s a last hurrah before they all go to separate colleges. They’ll spend a month hiking America’s national parks.

“You think you know the heat, but then you get out here in the desert and it just feels like it surrounds you like a blanket,” he said. “We ran into this Good Samaritan here.”

Cullymore makes his way down the mountain. He’s near the same warning sign where the family from Philly turned around when he runs into a couple visiting Arizona. She's from Atlanta. He's from New York City.

“Do you guys need any water?” Cullymore asks.

He hands them each a water. His orange backpack is empty now.

“When you’re half way out of your water, turn around," he says. "It’s not worth running out of water up there, OK?”

“Thank you so much, that's nice of you to be the man with the water,” says Allison Hayn, 33, as she catches her breath.

“Just be safe up there," Cullymore says.