The Joshua Tree Post (aka Dave almost died)

So we got back to California at 9:20 a.m. on Friday and spent the day doing laundry, napping and wishing we were still combating swarms of pesky mosquitoes. I was very happy that I planned my vacation so that I wound up back in California before coming home. It meant another trip to Joshua Tree National Park, which has now fallen to #2 on my list of favorite National Parks, behind Denali. Sorry JT.

We decided that we'd camp at Joshua Tree on Saturday night after I spent the day with my Aunt Mary again scanning more stuff and making sure I had everything. A GIANT thanks must go to her for allowing me in her house for hours, yet again, and telling me EVERYTHING she remembers from her entire life. Aunt Mary rocks!

We left Mary's at around 5 p.m. and headed straight to the campsites at JT. As you saw from the previous post, we got there at sunset, which was a bit too late for a hike, so we pitched the tent and built a fire to rustle up some grub. That's prospector talk for "eat." We decided to set the BlackBerry alarm for 6 a.m. so that we could get in an early hike up Ryan Mountain, a 3-mile hike up a 5,400+-foot mountain in the Mojave Desert. The earlier the better in the summer desert heat. This photo shows me happily ascending the Ryan Mountain trail. Notice the glee.We did the Ryan Mountain hike in less than two hours and got back to the truck and headed to another area of the park Phil wanted to explore - the sand dunes. On Friday, Phil used Google Earth to find a rarely used gravel road in the park that "led" to some rarely visited sand dunes. After about a half-mile, we'd have to "off-road" to reach the dunes, but we decided to try it. So we started down this road...We began this hike at about 9:30 a.m. and for the first third, the temperature was nice and the air was just starting to feel warm. It was quite awesome, actually. Then, at about 11 a.m., it was though the 8 pound, 6 ounce newborn baby Jesus flipped the "Bake Dave in the Desert" switch previously used only in the Gospel According to Judas the Apostle. Look it up.

About a mile into the hike, I asked Phil, "Should we just turn around? It's already getting hot and I don't want to die in this heat." It got so ridiculously hot, so fast that it became almost unbearable to finish the first leg of the hike. We were hiking a gravel road in the desert not really knowing where it led. After what seemed like 40 years in the desert with every possible bush burning, we saw what looked to be a shanty in the distance perhaps another mile away. I slowly plodded along the road like a tired sloth hoping to make it without passing out. Luckily, I had a pair of hiking poles and a ridiculous oversized straw hat protecting my melon. Without these items, I would have fallen to the ground in a heap and would have become Dave Jerky in about 2 hours.

We reached the shanty, which had a No Trespassing sign on the door and many metal items used for large caliber target practice throughout the years. It appeared that the shanty residents were not at home, but we didn't want to take a cap in the buttocks to find out. So, basically, were did an about face and headed back through the furnace that is Joshua Tree in the summer. That's when it got worse.

It seemed to be even hotter by this point and I tried to trick myself into thinking we were still in Alaska or that the truck was only a few hundred feet away or that the shade from the clouds only a few steps ahead wouldn't move on by the time I got there. Nothing worked. Nothing cooperated. I felt like a complete moron. I had become one of those people on one of those "When People Do the Dumbest Possible Things on the Planet" shows on Fox. I honestly felt that my life was in danger. I said to Phil, "Don't let me die out here." I said it several more times.

As I tried to convince myself that the truck was much closer than it actually was, I surveyed the land for shady spots. There were none. The elevation in this part of the park is such that Joshua Trees do not grow. There are only shoulder high bushes, cactus and other desert plants and with the sun directly overhead, no shade to rest this soon-to-be-Dave-Jerky's rapidly deteriorating ass. But Phil wouldn't let me quit. As dumb as we were to have ventured out there in the first place, he wouldn't let me give in to sitting down and resting. I wouldn't have gotten up. I'd still be there in some form, but probably not a living one. Rest assured, we had plenty of water, we just happened to be conserving it and not drinking enough in the heat. So we weren't totally stupid, just mostly. I'd say about 80% stupid. Maybe 90%.

Phil later said, "When you started slurring your words and saying incomprehensible things, I knew you were in trouble." Great. I was a babbling idiot. I remember stumbling down the road ready to fall to the ground any second. If it hadn't been for those hiking poles, I'd have fallen on a number of occasions. Several times, I told Phil that I couldn't go any further, but he would hear nothing of it. He knew that if I stopped, I would never get moving again. We kept going and finally we hit the turn in the road that would lead us back to the truck. Unfortunately, the last 3/4 of a mile was an incline mostly constituted of desert sand, which made me feel like I was spinning my wheels and getting nowhere. I had stopped sweating and Phil now poured our precious water over my head and shoulders. I think it kept me alive. I wish I was exaggerating. I would have rather been nose to nose with the moose and her calf at Horseshoe Lake in Alaska than in that desert feeling dehydration and heat stroke coming on.Finally, after what seemed liked an eternity of desert furnace wind in my lungs, I could see the gate that blocked this road to vehicle traffic and knew that Phil's truck waited on the other side with an oasis of beverages to behold in the that beautiful blue cooler in its cab. Water and Gatorade aplenty for all desert creatures to enjoy. But that damn quicksand seemed determined to prevent me from partaking of my libations. That sand wanted me dead. I refused and eventually made it to the door of Phil's truck where I thought I would collapse. Phil opened the doors and fired up the AC as I downed two bottles of water in about 15 seconds.

Once we got moving with the AC directed at me, I remembered something I saw on the Discovery Channel - when you are that hot, put ice on your wrists where the blood vessels are closest to the skin - it will cool you down quickly and safely. There's a reason I channel surf, people, and today it saved me from heat stroke. After 20 minutes, I was feeling much better, realizing that I probably wouldn't die and thanking my lucky stars. I had almost died in the desert, with enough water mind you, and lived to tell about it.

Moral of the story: Don't be a moron like me. Don't hike in the desert at 112 degrees. Not the brightest thing to do on a Sunday afternoon.

Skip to 1:07 in the following video from the Women's Marathon from the 1984 Olympics in Los Angeles to see how I felt on the desert hike.