Backpacking Joshua Tree National Park, with photos

We planned a short trip for Ethan's last spring break as a high school student. Just the two of us, in the desert somewhere. Never been to Joshua Tree, so a few google searches and we had our plan.

The Original Plan
We started in Vegas, visiting my mom over Easter. So we planned to drive the four hours from Las Vegas to Joshua Tree and hike in that same day. We could do 7.5 miles the first day to Upper Covington Flats, right? Then another 10 miles on Day Two to Ryan Campground, then 10 miles back to Covington, finishing with the 7.5 miles out on Day Four with the eight hour drive home to Walnut Creek the same day.

Then I read that the trail has no water and, in the desert, you should plan to carry a gallon per person per day, just for hydration. More if you want to cook, brush your teeth, or anything else.

You know how much a gallon of water weighs? A little over eight pounds. I thought about what it might be like adding 30 pounds of water to our packs.

The Revised Plan
I cut a day off the trip. We would hike in the 7.5 miles to Covington Flats, then hike to Quail Peak and back to the same campsite, then out the third day. Less water to carry, especially if we left Day Three's water in the car to drink when we get out. And only 25 or so miles over three days. We'd done 30 miles in three days last summer, so seemed achievable, if a little ambitious.

Unfortunately, we left Vegas two hours late so we arrived at Black Rock Campground at 4 p.m. instead of 2 p.m. Still, we had done a 3 mph pace before, so we geared up and headed out with 40+ pound packs.

Ethan with his pack, at the trailhead.

(Note to self: A 40 pound pack feels WAY heavier than a 28 pound pack. WAY heavier.)

The Actual Event
I should back up. We planned on hiking the California Riding and Hiking Trail, but we couldn't through-hike because we had only one car and just the two of us. We acquired our topo map at REI in Vegas, but we knew very little beyond the couple of web sites I'd seen and this map.

Covington Flats was our original destination for Day One.

What I didn't realize was that the first 6 miles of this trail is uphill and also like walking on a very soft beach... deep, soft sand apparently groomed for horseback riding tours. So keeping a pace of three miles per hour with 40+ pound packs uphill in the sand is kind of tough. If you didn't know it.

We got about this far

We got a little farther than this on Day One.

and started feeling pretty exhausted. Additionally, the wind was whipping around and it was getting toward twilight. So we decided not to try to get all the way to 7.5 miles, and we started looking for a place to spend the night. We tried a ravine off to the right of the trail about 4.5 miles in, and it turned out to give us a perfect site, slightly sheltered from the wind and not in a wash, just over 500 feet from the trail (i.e. a legal site). So we set up there. Short of our destination, but early enough to feel confident and prep for bed while it was still light.

Our tents, with our Nepali peace flags strung between.
Yes, they really are from Nepal.

Chilly morning selfie before breaking down camp.

Turns out that was a good thing because even though the forecasts called for the temperature to drop into the mid 40s (which we were prepared for), we actually enjoyed biblical winds and temperatures below freezing. This last part we calculated by observing the frost on our tents and the ice in our water bottles the next morning.

Before getting on the trail, we bushwhacked to the top of a peak next to our ravine to check out the views and see if we could get a cell signal (we couldn't). But the views were worth it.

This really was a view from our little peak

And we could see some random snowcapped mountain in the distance.

I really was there. These aren't just stock photos.

Hey, there's the trail, way down there, heading uphill. Wait. More uphill? Damn.

Our Revised Plan (see above) was to try to make it to the peak of Quail Mountain and back to a campsite in one day. After consulting the map and doing a quick calculation, we realized there was no way in hell we'd make it that far. So we revised the plan again, deciding to get to Covington Flats and see how we felt.

The trail kept going uphill for like a bajillion miles. And I swear the rangers put the mile markers at like 8,000 feet apart instead of the standard 5,280. But we enjoyed more desert scenery, including lots of wildflowers, over the next three miles to Covington Flats. There, we decided we'd go on to mile marker 9 and turn around, coming back for lunch. So instead of going 18 miles into the park and up to the peak, we were going 9 miles in. Fine. Discretion is the better part of valor, right?

A log on which we snacked, about 7 miles in.

Ethan hiking. Typical of the trail from mile 6 to mile 8.

A different random snow-capped mountain in the distance, framed by Joshua trees.

We made it to the Covington Flats trailhead! Someone was parked here, and someone left some water jugs free for the taking. We did not need it because we had plenty, but it was nice to see the generosity of strangers here.

Wildflowers!

Hard to see, but the trail is framed by wildflowers here.

Typical of the trail in the Covington Flats area.

Turns out we chose our route well because mile marker 9 is just at the beginning of a long, steep descent into a valley. We assessed the hill and our enthusiasm level, and we found ourselves very enthusiastic about not coming back up that hill, so we decided not to go down it. Instead, we turned around and headed back to Covington Flats trailhead where we paused for a half hour for lunch. It was warm when the wind stopped, which happened for a few seconds. Otherwise, it was kind of chilly. But still nice to sit on the rocks and rest.

Around mile 7 you cross an access road,
so there's a trail marker.

We began walking back toward our ravine where we had camped the night before, assuming we'd set up camp there again. When we got there, though, it was still only 2:30 p.m. and we were feeling very good after a hearty lunch and some preventative Advil. We'd made good time (nearly 3 mph) back from Covington Flats to the 4.5 mile mark, so I suggested we consider hiking all the way out and camping at Black Rock car camp instead of suffering through another freezing night in the wilderness. (I'd stop short of calling it "miserable," but it wasn't exactly enjoyable.)

So we double-timed it down to the car.

Interesting thing, hiking. The downhill seemed much less steep than the uphill had seemed the night before. And the sand was no less difficult to walk through downhill than uphill. So keeping a 2.5 mph pace was still a challenge. But we did it, after already doing 9 miles earlier.

We made it to Black Rock Campground about 4:30 p.m, only to find that all the campsites were reserved for the night. Maria, back at the mother ship, did some Trip Advisor searching to find a cheap rate at the Country Inn. A phone call and a short drive later, we were enjoying hot showers and comfy beds and indoor heating and no wind. Which I really appreciate tonight as I type this post since the drive home the next day was nine hours long. Maybe I'm a wimp, but I'd rather do that drive after a night in a comfy motel than after a freezing night on the ground and a five mile hike.

Plus, the motel had complimentary breakfast.

I've had better, but the coffee was pretty good.

Overall, I'd say it was a terrific trip. It would be a beautiful through-hike if you cache water at the trailheads. We didn't see a single other person after the first mile, and the land was really very pretty. If you plan on doing this hike, you'll be tempted to skimp on the water. You'll say to yourself, "A gallon per person per day? That's over-planning. I bet I can get away with three liters. Probably even two!" Don't do it. By lunch on the second day (less than 24 hours into our trip), I'd already drunk four liters, and I don't tend to drink a lot when I'm hiking. AND the temperature never got over the mid 60s. So don't skimp on the water. Seriously.

I also wish we'd arrived a few hours earlier and were able to hike farther in on the first day, and that we'd been prepared for colder nights. I am a little disappointed we didn't camp both nights, but I do think we pushed ourselves. A 14 mile day with full packs is nothing to sneeze at for people who do one trip a year, right?

Finally: No backcountry travelogue is complete without a Blair Witch selfie:

Adventures in formalwear

This weekend I'm attending my first black tie event in... many, many years. So of course I have to rent a tuxedo. Ever since I moved to California back in 1985, the place to rent your tux was Selix Formalwear. I remember for my fraternity formal, a bunch of us went to the one in Oakland and laughed about the Miami Vice pastels, ultimately settling (of course) on basic black.

So I sought out Selix and found one just a few miles away in Pleasant Hill, three weeks ago. Went in, got fitted, left a deposit, arranged to pick up the tux on Wednesday, February 18. Since we're flying to Los Angeles on Friday the 20th, this would cleverly give us one day for adjustments if necessary.

Wednesday the 18th comes. It's been a busy week. We rush over to Selix after work, arriving at 6:30 a full half hour before their closing time of 7 p.m. But they're closed. With a sign saying they'd be back at 10 a.m.

WTF?

So of course I did what any rational, angry person would: I tweeted about it.

It says 7 p.m. closing time RIGHT THERE.

I googled them and called the number that came up in the search results, but of course it was a fax machine. What the Fax, google. Seriously.

Then I went to the Selix web site and found this lovely note:

Um.

Wut.

We have less than 48 hours before our flight to Los Angeles, and the place that has my deposit and measurements is now in receivership. Lovely.

Long story short, Orlando at Men's Wearhouse in Walnut Creek set me up in under an hour. I ended up buying a tux for not that much more than a rental. Now all I have to do is either find more formal events to attend, or join the British Secret Service.

Walther PPK not included in base model.

"I had grand plans."

That was a primary point in my sister's keynote speech at Boston's ALS walk this past Saturday. Cathy was diagnosed with ALS only a few months ago, just weeks after retiring from a demanding and very successful career. The last time we saw each other, about two months before the diagnosis, she told me she had grand plans for the next chapters in her life; although she was still figuring out the specifics, "helping others" figured prominently in her ideas. Those plans have changed.

The last time I saw my sister, I saw no hint of ALS. Nothing to make me think anything like this could be coming. We talked about her pending knee surgery and retirement, our kids' college tours, plans for a long future filled with activity. Those plans have changed.

This past weekend I joined scores of others to support Cathy in the ALS Walk in Boston (we flew in from California Thursday night). Family I hadn't seen in decades were there. The morning was glorious, clear and warm after a week of terrible wind and torrential rain (so I'm told), and the location was beautiful. Cathy was honored with the keynote speech in part because in the couple of months since she was diagnosed, she assembled a huge team for the walk and became the Boston walk's top fundraiser.

My family and I also participated the previous weekend in our local walk in Northern California, which was much smaller but eye-opening. I've walked in several fundraisers for ACS, LLS, AHA, etc., but the ALS walk had a different feel. It wasn't until I started writing this blog post that I realized what the subtle difference was. Other walks are all organized around the survivors. This walk was entirely about finding a cure.

It's strange and difficult to return to normal everyday life after two weekends like the past two. I know my sister and thousands of others who are diagnosed with ALS every year don't even have that option, so I'm going to try to take advantage of the time I have. I don't know exactly what that means yet. There are things I want to achieve. There are places I want to see. There are people I love who I want to spend more time with. And I don't want to be so busy that I miss the countless moments of beauty around me all the time.

Photos from the two walks are posted below.

WALNUT CREEK, CA - October 19, 2014

With some Wells Fargo colleagues

Pretty long stream of people along the canal trail.

BOSTON, MA - October 25, 2014

The setting near Dorchester Heights along Old Harbor was gorgeous.

Boston financial district in the background.

Sis & me

Giving the keynote address to 1,500 walkers

The paparazzi taking family photos

Day trip to Ensenada: totally worth it, but never again #travelogue #travel

Last night we got home from a 1,500 mile road trip over nine days. We saw many cousins, visited a college, toured Universal Studios, visited a mission, partied in Los Angeles, walked around downtown LA, and saw a space shuttle. A pretty busy trip. But the crazy bit was our day trip into Mexico.

Originally, we thought we might drive across the border and down to Rosarito Beach or Ensenada. A lot of people told us not to do that, though. They said we'd get beheaded by drug cartels. A bunch of googling, though, made us believe that there was virtually no actual risk in going... but I didn't want to drive my new car in a foreign country, so we looked into other options.

Our timing was bad for a tourist bus from San Diego to Ensenada (only Tuesdays and Wednesdays that we could find), but more research showed another "easy" way to get there: Walk across the border and take a Mexican ABC bus to Ensenada.

It should be said here that I did zero research. Maria learned everything and planned everything. So I was going in blind, essentially, hoping it would all work out. This is my positivity strength working full force.

So we left our cozy, beachfront timeshare in Dana Point about 8 a.m. and drove an hour to the San Ysidro border crossing. We figured getting into Mexico would be easy, and it was. A few armed guards eyed us as we came through the building on the Mexican side, but no one asked for papers, no one asked if we had anything to declare... no one asked us anything.

And there we were, in the middle of a chaotic, crowded, noisy city. Maria tried to navigate to the bus terminal from the one blogger's directions, which were accurate but not as detailed as one might have hoped. But here are the correct walking directions thanks to Google Maps, at least as of January, 2014:

We walked back and forth until we figured out we had to go over the sky bridge across the highway.

Once we got over the highway, it was easy to find the ABC bus terminal: Past the tourist shops and restaurants, past the taxis, left through the plaza to the tall mirror-glassed building. The bus was there, but we were confused about the price. It was twice the price that we'd read online. After some calculations and a quick stop at the exchange counter for some pesos, we realized we misread the blog posts. Still a $110 round trip total for four people didn't seem outrageous. So we took the 11:45 bus from Tijuana to Ensenada.

At the time, we did not know that part of the coastal highway had fallen into the sea just a week before. We might have rethought this whole trip had we known. Or maybe not. We're reckless that way.

Anyway, the bus was comfortable and smooth for the 90 minute ride, and it dropped us at the Central station in Ensenada. A ten minute walk to the ocean got us to the tourist district, where we had lunch and bought a few souvenirs. We didn't know the return bus schedule, so we figured we'd try to get back to the terminal around 4 p.m.

We got totally lucky, walking onto a bus at 4:15 p.m. that got us back to Tijuana just after 6:15 p.m., well after dark. I admit to a little unease as we navigated the streets back to the border crossing--the place had a tweener feel to it like most tourists had left for the day, but people were still preparing their shops and bars for Friday night. If we'd missed that 4:15 bus, I figure we'd have reached Tijuana after 7:30 p.m.

We had no idea what to expect at the border. Maybe an hour or so wait in line for returning US citizens with valid passports, right?

We were so very, very wrong.

We wandered around trying to figure out the protocols, and ultimately one semi-friendly woman and a local official helped us understand that we had to stand in the "general public" line, which stretched up and away from the border farther than we could see. We began walking back along the line, which had not moved one inch in the ten minutes we wandered around, when a guy came up to us and offered to shuttle us across the border.

I was skeptical. He said it would take 30 minutes or so, dropping us on the other side of the border. The walking line looked at least three hours long. Probably more. (No exaggeration here. It's dreadful.) Ten bucks a person for the shuttle. He wanted to leave right away, had four seats. Ten bucks each.

I am always afraid of getting scammed in an unfamiliar place. Chaos all around. If it was so quick and cheap, why wasn't everyone doing it? Or at least a few more people abandoning that four hour line?

But he had a laminated official badge on a lanyard around his neck. His shuttle was a 15 passenger van, already nearly full of people, parked right next to a couple of Mexican border police. I set aside my skepticism and hopped in the van with Maria and the boys.

Best $40 we ever spent. The shuttle took us on a 20 minute drive to the Otay crossing, where we got out and went through a 20 minute line across the border, then picked us up on the other side and drove us back to our car at San Ysidro around 8 p.m.

All in all, this was a great experience. But it could have gone really wrong at multiple points. We got lucky with the border crossing shuttle, and with the timing of the return bus. The reroute due to the freeway collapse was a harrowing ride over the mountains on a windy, crowded precipice road without guardrails. And of course there are the beheadings, right?

Ensenada was fun--great food, of course, and typical tourist shops. The cruise ship wouldn't arrive until the next day, so it felt like we had the town to ourselves. But the people were friendly, and the walk to and from the bus station showed us a look at Mexican local city life. An experience I am glad we had, but I wouldn't do it again. Not as a day trip. If we were going to stay for a couple of nights in Ensenada, I would definitely consider doing the ABC bus again. But not for a day trip.

Lunch, with Super Donkeys! (i.e. big burritos)

Tourist section, without many tourists.

I'm guessing this place rocks when the ship is docked.

Souvenirs included Baja shirts, a blanket, and a little ceramic skull.

Local business.

On Avenida Riveroll, walking back to the bus station.