A cold wind howled and tore at my tarp last night, making for a chill and restless sleep. Though secure inside, the violence outside refused to be ignored. It pushed and slapped the thin fabric a few inches from my face, insistent and unrelenting, like a bully trying to pick a fight.
I declined the invitation and remained in my tent until it was lit by the morning sun, eating oatmeal and drinking coffee, unwilling to face a bitter and comfortless morning, asking myself (not for the first time) just why it is I like to do these kinds of hikes.
I finally moved out, dressed in multiple layers despite the uphill hike in bright sun – and promptly found a much more sheltered spot just a couple hundred yards up the canyon. A few more minutes of walking yesterday would have changed my night and my attitude entirely.
I continued my climb to the crest of the Providence Range, following in the steps of numerous burros and cows. Their goal was Summit Spring, possibly the only water source for miles. Given the dryness of the year and its description as unreliable, I did not plan on watering up there. Just as well – although there was water, it was thoroughly fouled by livestock. I’ve drunk worse, but it is not an experience I care to repeat. I was not sorry for carrying a couple extra liters of clean water, despite the weight.
The crest was reached soon thereafter. The gale force cold winds left me with little desire to linger and enjoy the spectacular views, which extended all the way to the snow capped peak of Mt San Gorgonio.
Snowcapped Mt San Gorgonio peeks through a saddle in the Providence Mtns
I picked my way down the steep backside, staying out of the catclaw-choked gully until it opened up at its confluence with Beecher Canyon at the foot of Wild Horse Mesa.
Wild Horse Mesa ahead
The Mesa was formidable–its flanks rising a thousand feet from the canyon floor, its top ringed by cliff bands. My route angled along the syncline layers until a gap in the cliff band presented a path to the top. The views were again spectacular, reaching NW to the Panamints, but the wind made walking difficult, and view-savoring impossible.
Wild Horse Mesa slopes down to the south
A few rocks and a juniper tree provided a windbreak for lunch, and then I traced the east rim of the mesa as it sloped down toward Wild Horse Canyon and Hole-in-the-Wall. The views now were of Hackberry Mountain, tomorrow’s destination, and the Piute Mountains, two days’ travel beyond that.
The butte above Hole-in-the-Wall, beyond it Hackberry Mtn, and then the Piute Mtns in the far distance
I startled some bighorn sheep, and then some mule deer on the climb down from the mesa and into the flats below. A half-mile traverse through dried-out rabbitbrush and saltbrush led to a jeep road, and the jeep road led to a paved road which deposited me at Hole-in-the-Wall campground.
I considered staying there for the night and enjoying the luxuries of a picnic table and a pit toilet, but there were several good hours of daylight left and I knew tomorrow’s hike would be a much bigger challenge. I stopped at the picnic area and filled up on water at the spigot, then walked back to the road and then out across the open desert towards the Woods Mountains.
Black Canyon wash drains the west side of the Woods Mountains and provided a bit of a windbreak. I subdued my tarp point by point, piling heavy rocks on to each stake, not trusting them to hold against the wind in the sandy wash bottom.
One of the things I like about this tarp (the fly from a Tarptent Moment), besides its stability in the wind, is that I can open up the lee side for cooking and general gawking at the landscape. Even in a windstorm.
So that is what I did: lounged in the soft sand, sipped whisky, cooked my dinner and watched the light fade from the desert sky. I was dirty, sunburned and wind-whipped but felt satisfied and at peace. There was nothing I needed and nothing that was needed from me. I could just be.
And that, I suppose, I why I keep coming back to the desert for more punishment. That freedom from need may be temporary and it may be an illusion but it feels real enough at the time. That’s all I really can ask for.