Joshua Tree Part 2: Pine City
Things were a little scary for a minute or two today. And I’m gonna tell the story to maximize the impact of the scary *evil laughter*.
After a leisurely stroll around the Barker Dam area, I decided to try for a real trail and some peaceful alone-time in the desert. I found a trailhead at the end of a dirt road, the name of which gave me the impression that the trail led to a place called “Pine City.” Pretty irresistible.
—
Cut to a couple hours later, I’m at a fork in the trail, facing this sign:
Being the smart, responsible hiker I am, I’d taken a picture of the map at the trailhead. I took the fork on the right, to where Pine City was on said map. The trail was indeed a bit sketchy, sometimes being a little hard to make out where it was. I followed as it zig-zagged down a slope until I found myself overlooking this canyon.
I hung out for a minute. There were no pines within sight. I heard noises back behind me - a bird? Or footsteps? I was pretty deep into the wilderness here and hadn’t seen another human soul the entire hike. I turned back.
The trail was still hard to make out. But I have a pretty good sense of direction, and I knew it basically cut south from where I had stopped. So I just kept heading in that direction.
I was finding paths between the scattered desert plants, but I’d been hiking a few minutes now, and I hadn’t seen the “Trail Not Maintained” sign again. I stopped and looked around. I couldn’t see the sign anywhere. And where I was walking was feeling less and less like a trail. I had passed a familiar landmark on my left, but it was a bit closer than it should’ve been, so I scrambled over a rock formation to my right to see if I could get a better view of the area, and possibly see the trail. I figured I should be parallel to the maintained part of the trail at this point.
From the top of the rocks I look around. No sign, no obvious trail…but maybe that’s a trail up ahead? I go forward and find a creek bed that essentially serves as a trail. I see a shoe-print, so someone walked here. But pink/orangey rocks are lying around the ground, and I would’ve noticed those if I’d seen them on the way up.
A friend of mine who was in boy scouts once told me: one of the first rules of survival is to sing to yourself. It calms you down, so you don’t go into panic and tire yourself out or make bad decisions. I try to muster up the will to hum the Dr. Dog song that’s been playing in my head.
How can it be that a fish in the sea
Could feel like it's completely alone?
The world may never know
Somehow, singing wasn’t making me feel too much better. I could turn back and retrace my steps to find where I’d lost the trail, but I’d only lost it because it was so difficult to make out in the first place - what if I missed it entirely and just wandered deeper into the desert? And how could I know if I’d retraced my steps exactly? Practically speaking, I could just end up more lost and more tired. And emotionally speaking, turning around felt like admitting I was actually lost-lost, and I was trying to keep my spirits up here.
So I keep trudging south, where I know the main road is, keeping an eye out for any sign of the trail or landmarks.
When I checked my phone, I think I had forgotten. I was just trying to see where my dot was. And maybe Google Maps would show where the main road was - or even better show the dirt road - even better show the trail. (I don’t have service on trails because Sprint is terrible, but sometimes it’ll still show unlabeled versions of the main roads.)
So I opened Google Maps and saw roughly this:
That’s my blue dot, and off to the west is a point of coordinates, a pin I had saved in my phone.
—
Cut to a couple hours earlier, I’m walking along the trail, unknowingly to my own doom. I have some snacks and a great book in my bag, and that’s what’s on my mind when I see an inviting clearing with boulders and pines off the trail to my right. I’m ready to relax a bit, and sink into nature. I walk into the clearing and pause.
This trail is a designated area for backcountry camping. And this would be a reaaalllyyy nice spot to camp. I work through my indecisiveness. Should I just go back to the van and grab my tent? Really immerse myself? I could…but then I’d have to worry about water, and the van is so comfortable…but if someday I’m more in the backpacking mood, this would be a phenomenal spot.
I pull out my phone, and sift through Google Maps’ un-intuitive interface to save a pin. Then I lounge on some rocks and get lost in my book.
—
Cut back to me staring at my blue dot. Facing south, the trail is just to the right of that pin. I start moving to see how my blue dot moves relative to the pin. I have to zoom pretty far in to see the blue dot move.
I’m way, way to the left of the pin.
Meaning the trail is way, way, way off to my right.
Holy shit.
I make for the pin. Which is a bit tricky. I’m really traversing some real country now, navigating around, weaving through, and climbing over rock formations. I’m keeping an eye out for snakes, going out of the way to find safer paths to avoid more dangerous obstacles, and sweating through my shirt. I scramble straight west for about 10 full minutes before I hurdle through some boulders and see a pocket of clearing with pine trees.
I made it. I pass by the rocks I had been reading on earlier, now in full shade. Back about twenty feet, two crows perch atop a taller rock overlooking the scene.
Not today, fuckarooskis.
I make my way through the clearing and onto the actual, real, blessed trail. Slow, gratifying fist pump. I hike non-stop back to the trailhead, thinking it would be maybe 30 minutes tops, but even at a brisk pace it takes closer to an hour.
Returning from hikes, I’ve often felt relief at the first sight of Weewoo. But this was probably a new record.
I throw my stuff in the back and make for Keys Point to watch the sun set behind Mt. San Jacinto. Wondering what would’ve happened if I hadn’t dropped that pin. Shook.
I found a needle in the hay
I found the sunshine at the end of the day
Lessons from the day: If you reach an ambiguous part of the trail, save a pin on your phone. Better yet, just get in the habit of doing that once in a while anyways if you’re hiking alone. And have a flashlight with you at all times, just in case. Also an extra phone brick to charge your phone in case it dies. Be safe out there, kids.
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Song: The World May Never Know, Dr. Dog. Curse this song for being in my head that day.