I
don’t know what first attracted me to the desert. Maybe it was surviving within
the inhospitable conditions. Or it could have just been the emptiness and
solitude. But I finally made it out there last week after a few years. I had
wanted to make a habit of taking a yearly sabbatical, where I just go off by
myself for a bit, take my little 4WD truck and have some alone time.
I had been to
Joshua Tree, then Death Valley and the last place I went was the Mojave
National Preserve in 2010. My last sabbatical was right before I changed jobs.
I wanted to go to Death Valley again next, but couldn’t in 2011 or 2012. This
year I finally got my act together, but because of the government shutdown and
the road conditions I couldn’t go to where I wanted to in Death Valley, so I
picked a place in The Mojave National Preserve.
Roadside camping
is where there is an established spot. There is a cleared area, perhaps with a
fire ring. They’re all over, including national parks. The park’s website
listed them, including the one I had been to last time. And I found another one
that I remembered considering. This one was in Caruthers Canyon. It was
accessible only with four-wheel drive. Like all roadside camping spots, there
was no water, no facilities. I planned my trip and made this my destination.
October seemed the
right time. My truck’s air conditioning doesn’t work so the drive wouldn’t be
too hot. But it wouldn’t be too cold either. Plus, it would be just a couple
weeks before National Novel Writing Month. Before the month begins I like to
write up story outlines, character biographies, and backstory. I would take
notebooks and pens and write. I would
sit out in the desert and write, how utterly cool would that be? It’s what I
wanted to do last year. I ended up going to Starbucks to do it. This year I
would do it right.
I left at 5:00 am
on Monday and got to the Costco in Victorville right when the gas station
opened at 6. I got a cup of coffee at the Starbucks nearby and lamented that
their Wi-Fi was down and I couldn’t use my iPod to check in. Then I got back
out on the road headed northeast on interstate 15.
The drive was
wonderful. I stayed in the slow lane most of the time. The air was cool. I
passed through Barstow without stopping and kept on. The sun came up to my
front right. I kept up with big-rigs as cars passed on the left. I stopped at
Zyzzx to take a few pictures and then drove into Baker where I topped off the
gas tank, grabbed a Subway sandwich and a can of Coke and texted Prajna that I
was well.
I put the coke
into the 10 gallon cooler strapped into the back of the truck. I had put two
bags of ice in it the night before and topped it off with hose water.
Then I headed out.
I was now farther on the 15 than I had ever been. I drove on through Mountain
Pass where the scenery was stunning. Shortly before the Nevada Boarder, I
turned off onto a highway. After the highway, I entered the Mojave Preserve.
I drove on a road
for several miles. The pavement ended and it became pretty rough. I looked at
my printed directions and my odometer to figure out when my turn would be
coming. It seemed to take a long time and I wondered if I had missed it. But
finally there it was, New York Mountain Road. The road was two ruts with grass
in the middle and pretty sandy. I put the truck in 4WD and second gear, drove
on and watched for my next turn.
I drove slowly.
The last vehicle I had passed was the previous rough road about 30 minutes
back. I had no cell signal. There was my next turn. I got onto Caruthers Canyon
Road, still in 4WD. And now the road was uneven too. Parts of the road were
washed out and there were ruts off to the left of it going around. At one
point, I stopped and backed up to the alternate path. Then at one point, the
newer path joined the old one in a rough dip. I stopped the truck, got out and
assessed the road. I could make it. And I did. First gear, four-wheels, it
wasn’t a problem, but it was a rough jolt. Once past it I looked in my mirror
and saw my water cooler on its side. All my water had spilled out.
I got out of the
truck and jumped in the bed. Ice was everywhere. I righted the cooler and began
hand-scooping the ice chips back in. I was just a short way from my
destination. But this was almost all my water. Aside from this, I had two 16
ounce containers. If I lost my water, I would have to go get some. I would have
to brave those roads again for hours. I scooped and grabbed, not worrying that
the bed of the truck and my hands were dirty. I kept at it until I couldn’t get
any more. The cooler now was about 1/3 of the way full of ice. Once melted, it
would be about 2 gallons.
I strapped the
cooler down again. I had not slacked in securing it before, it was just a
significant jolt. Then I drove on. I was jittery. The road split and I went to
the left. A few minutes later, the road ended in a little circle. There was a
fire ring. I had made it.
I pulled the truck
around so it faced out and shut it off. Water was dripping out of the back. I
still was awfully tense. I got my gear out and pitched my tent. I ate half my
sandwich and drank the Coke.
It was absolutely
silent. The wind made noise in the tree or flapped the tent, but there wasn’t
even the sound of birds or insects. I was there. Now what? I couldn’t relax.
For a minute I thought I had lost my iPod and almost flew into a panic. There
is was next to the driver’s seat where it had come off my belt. There was a
little tree there at the campsite and I set my chair under it with my writing
materials. I got my composition book out and sat in the chair. Then I spent a
long time journaling. And that is what I did more than anything for the time I
spent there.
I got out my big
notebook and worked on the outline for my November novel. I took my time with
it and tried to write a lot. But I was still jittery. Someone who had camped
there before had fixed a rock into a part of the tree I was under and it made a
little seat. I sat on that for a bit and did some writing. Blue Like Jazz and watched a Jerusalem Beetle crawl to some shade
my tent made.
I felt a little like
a biblical prophet, but it wasn’t comfortable like my camp chair. I journaled
more, read some of
The air was cool
in the shade, perfect in the sun. I figured when the sun went down it would get
pretty cold. I cooked my supper just as the sun went down. There was hills
surrounding me and the sun disappeared before 5 pm. It was dark by 6. I bundled
up and lit my camping lamp. Then sat next to my truck and read my book. I
plugged speakers into my iPod and listened to soft music.
I kept getting up
and walking away from my light to look at the stars. There were more stars
visible in the sky than I had ever seen, even on my previous trips, now I had
eyeglasses. At one point, I looked to the west and saw the tops of the
mountains lit up with moonlight. The moon was shining on them before it reached
me on the ground.
I watched the moon
come up later. It was coming up on 9pm. I was tired and went to bed. It was
cold and uncomfortable, but I managed to sleep off and on. The moonlight was
brilliant enough that I could almost read by it.
I finally got up
when it was light. I made coffee and breakfast. There was a lot more I wanted
to work on for my novel. But I just couldn’t seem to focus on it. I was worried
about getting through the big step on the way out. I was worried about the rest
of the roads. And I finally broke down and admitted the truth to myself:
I was not having
such a good time being farther than I had ever been from another living soul.
This was a little too lonely. I was shocked at myself. The über cool loner
wasn’t as much of a loner as he wanted to admit. This was too much, too far and
I just couldn’t relax. Maybe it was losing all of my water, I don’t know. But I
felt a little better when I finally just accepted the fact that I would have done
better to spend an afternoon in Starbucks.
I packed up everything
I had brought in, including the firewood I was going to use, but didn’t for lack
of water to put it out. I selected a favorite CD and prayed to God that I would
make it safely out without getting stuck or disabled.
I made it past the
big dip and out onto the rough 4WD roads. I took one wrong turn and made it back
and had no more trouble. By noon I was at the Kelso Depot, which is the park headquarters.
I texted Prajna that I was alright and that I missed her.
I had a wonderful drive
home though desert communities. As I drove past homes that were isolated, my first
thought was how much I wished I could live there. But the thoughts faltered right
away and something I never thought before replaced them. I don’t want to live way
out in the middle of nowhere. I like living in the town I’m in.
I got home and everyone
was watching MacGyver on Amazon Prime. People were happy to see me, but everything
was just as it had been. Nothing had changed but me.