Get out of La Jolla. Now.
Not because I want you to leave, but because ‘mdash; after the Sun God Festival passed in a brilliant flash of sweat and substance abuse ‘mdash; I have a feeling your UCSD bubble has shrunk to claustrophobic proportions.
All you have to look forward to before finals is a 20-page paper on larval mating habits and a slew of Red Bull binges. Maybe a Korean BBQ fundraiser.
But all that can change with a good old-fashioned camping trip. Take it from this columnist, who hightailed it to Anza Borrego Desert State Park with a swarm of other Guardian staffers/groupies this Memorial Day weekend.
Just two hours down a winding road and you’re surrounded with dust and rocks. It’s pushing 100 degrees and so dry that your sweat evaporates immediately. Your phone service is scattered and you have a vague notion that a mountain goat is watching you from the hill near your campsite.
The desert is no paradise. But besides ripping your eyes’ focus from a laptop and alleviating your carpaltunnel- infected hands, the best part of a two-day vacation among the coyotes and rattlers is getting crafty with your time and resources.
Our group figured this out quickly when, after hanging around the campfire ’til the wee hours, a group of us awoke Saturday morning dehydrated in a pool of our own perspiration. It was 6:30 a.m. ‘mdash; probably the earliest we’d ever interacted with one another ‘mdash; and there was nothing to do but explore.
So we packed into two cars and set out to a ravine-formed ground crevice named the ‘Slot.’
A couple loopty-loops and a left turn onto a dirt road had us gripping our bag of Cheeto Puffs. We cringed as we heard rocks scraping the bottom of the Corolla over the blaring radio, hoping no hunks of metal would loosen below.
When we finally arrived at the main trail and trekked our way down the crevice, we just stared and wandered, fascinated by round rocks and spiky plants.
On our way back, our biggest obstacle was making it over the steep hill on the road. We watched the lead car in the caravan tip over the slope’s horizon ‘mdash; then clenched our teeth and braved the slope ourselves.
A few bumps and some grinding, and we made it over. For a moment, there was nothing else to worry about in the world.
When we met up with the others at the campsite we saw that they’d come up with a creative way to pass the time. It was a game that involved riding a bike to the lonely water spigot, catching a cold Tecate midpath and drinking it while continuing the trail. A few beers later the bike game escalated to a playful wire-hanger fight ‘mdash; we were getting desperate for the heat to subside.
At one point some people even resorted to an honest game of dominoes. Luckily that’s when ranger Diane came to collect the bills. We all tossed rent money into a pile, and ‘mdash; after gazing at a collection of empty beer cans and inspecting our hookah ‘mdash; she disappeared into the distance.
Finally, we dragged ourselves out of our heat-induced stupor and hiked to an oasis two miles through the mountains, walking mostly in silence through the brush until we reached some rocks near a shady palm-tree grove. For the next couple hours we sat and played a game of tummy ha ha.
The back trail’s highlight was a rattlesnake sighting. We ooed and ahhed and one editor kneeled down close enough to snap a photo.
Come Sunday, our group packed up and said goodbye to the desert. We stopped for delicious pie in Julian, and two hours later we were back home.
I skirted my e-mail inbox with a hot shower and a nap ‘mdash; but finally caved and cracked open my laptop. Work came flooding back in full swing, and I wished my life just revolved around staying hydrated, surviving snake encounters and delicious pie.
But, at least during my two-day vacation in wilderness, I could pretend it did.