Joshua Tree. Wherein I forget how to camp or never learned how.
I didn't bring gloves to tend the fire or coat hangers to cook on. The water boiler I bought at the drug store shorted out the fuse for my cigarette lighter. I undersold the size of my tent so Knuckles slept in the car AND I failed to bring anything hallucinogenic.
We managed a fire and some modest eats. We took a few nice scrambles up the rocks and caught an incredible sunset.
Then it got cold.
I was pretty cozy in my tent (I swear I offered it up) but Knuckles woke me up and we threw in the towel around 3:30 in the morning. We packed up in the dark and split for San Diego.
While we were out there, I missed a message from Pops telling me to be careful, because Joshua Tree is where James Dean lost his life in a crash involving another vehicle and his Porsche Spyder.
Two minutes down the road from our camp site, we stumbled upon this.
Another car was pulled over, and a local was looking around with a flashlight. We jumped out and helped him look. He'd already checked the car - no bodies, no blood - but he was making sure no one was thrown clear.
I found the note under the wiper blade. "Park Rangers, Crash occurred at 10:15pm, both passengers could walk, caught a ride into 29 Palms."
The ground was peppered with broken glass and their belongings - a box of candy, a smashed cell phone, a pair of sunglasses. A suitable reminder to drive carefully.
We pulled into San Diego in time to get one of the first meals out of the kitchen at Hash House A Go Go and a wander around the city a bit. San Diego is a great city, even though we caught the one rainy day in a hundred. I'm splitting for Calexico and Jacumba tomorrow for Valley of the Moon (thanks for the tip, Seabass). Then I'll run the Calizona border and work my way mile by mile towards that Canyon that has so captured the American imagination. I've heard good things.
Talk to you soon.
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