Backpacking in Joshua Tree National Parkhas been a personal dream of mine for some time now. Though I’ve camped and hiked there a couple times in the previous year, I had never been able to work out the logistics for a real backpacking trip- mostly because I couldn’t find a specific destination that seemed worthy of the extra effort required for desert backpacking. It’s no easy task to carry all that extra water (at least twice as much as is required elsewhere), and I didn’t feel like taking the plunge wander around in an alien landscape that I could just as easily explore on day hikes from a comfortable campsite. I love backpacking, and especially difficult trips, but I’m not out to get myself killed.

But the Backpacking Gods had other plans for me, and they led Sean to strike gold a couple weeks back by forcing him upon a day hiking trip report detailing some dude’s adventure to Munsen Oasis- the most secluded and difficult to access of all of Joshua Tree’s Desert Fan Palm Oases. Munsen Oasis  instantly became our personal Shangri-La. The trail would be arduous, the water scarce, and all the boulder fields immense, but we didn’t care. We prepared for an arduous adventure, and we found it in spades.

Joining us on this trip was our good friend Tommy, who made the journey all the way down to Southern California from Sacramento. Whenever we gear up for epic trips, Tommy seems to be the only one brave enough to throw himself into the mix. He was with us on last Summer’s absolutely breathtaking trip through the Rae Lakes Loop in Kings Canyon and Sequoia Natonal Parks, and I was glad that he could join us for this one too. I’m not sure I would advise doing this trip with any less than three people either, as there are simply too many opportunities for serious injuries, and a two man team would mean leaving an injured man behind, by himself, if something truly terrible were to happen. The Desert is no place to tempt Fate.

We arrived at Joshua Tree long after nightfall on Friday evening, entering the Park off the 10 East through the secluded and much less trafficked Southern Entrance near Cottonwood Springs Campground. Finding everything completely full, we had to manage by posting up for the couple hours at a group site, camping in a wash recently flooded by the massive storms that rolled through Southern CA last week. I know it’s not technically what you’re supposed to do, but we were in basically an emergency situation. The weather reports were all clear for hundreds of miles, so it didn’t seem like much of a risk. Definitely not very Eagle Scout-like of me, but whatever.

I set up camp sans-tent for the first time in months and really enjoyed being able to simply open my eyes for panoramic views of the stars.  It was a new moon while we were out there, so new that I never caught a single glimpse of it, and I was certainly watching for it to appear. While there’s still a little bit of light pollution from nearby 29 Palms, Joshua Tree (the city), and perhaps even the distant cities of Palm Springs and Thousand Palms, the sky was dark enough that we had some pretty incredible views of the stars. And since I didn’t spot any Scorpions, Spiders, Snakes, or any other of scary desert denizens, I decided to forego my tent for the rest of the trip. I’m glad I left it behind.

Waking up at dawn on Saturday morning we drove to the Visitor’s Center to check for last minute information and verify our directionsto Munsen Oasis with the Rangers. We made it to the Lost Palms Oasis trailhead relatively early and found ourselves in the middle of a pretty strong wind storm. It was nice and cool at this point, but the weather didn’t hold for long. After registering at the Backcountry Board and completing final preparations in the parking lot, we set off. Though it was still quite breezy, it was also far warmer than we had been expecting. I made the huge mistake of forgetting to bring along a non-cotton tee-shirt, and I paid dearly for it by sweating like a pig. I was locked in a constant struggle to stop my wet shirt from chafing under the strain of my pack’s hip belt. Next time I won’t forget!

The trail started off relatively easy, with gentle slopes and a pretty minor grade, winding through heavily vegetated desert canyons and some truly barren flash flood washes. Just over 3 miles in we reached the ledge the big canyon that’s home to the Lost Palms Oasis. We paused at the overlook to soak in the incredible view. Joshua Tree is my favorite of the National Parks I’ve visited, due to it’s uniqueness and rugged beauty, and while this Southern part of the Park (Colorado Desert) is much different from the more familiar and more distinctive North-West section (Mojave Desert), it certainly rivals it in natural beauty. The Desert Fan Palms are really an incredible sight, especially after walking through miles of relatively barren desert. I’d rate Lost Palms Oasis as a must see destination.

We stopped briefly for lunch under the shade of the last pair of trees at Lost Palms Oasis. I couldn’t believe how much water we’d seen already- small pools, tiny waterfalls, and a gurgling stream made up the majority of the trail through the Oasis itself. I hadn’t expected to encounter anything but stagnant, disgusting, festering cess-pools, and yet, there we were amongst a literal stream right through the heart of the desert. I had left my water filter in the car because of our expectations, but I was already regretting that mistake. From now on, I’m carrying that thing everywhere. It would have saved us quite a bit of trouble (and probably around 10 pounds of weight each).

I love the desert for it’s resourcefulness and efficiency- especially for it’s ability to make so much out of so little (water that is). And this canyon’s abundance seemed excessive compared to the much more arid surroundings- it was almost as if the desert was being wasteful here. Temperatures dropped substantially near the water, dipping down into a much more comfortable range and providing a welcome respite to the screaming desert heat. Each of the Oases that we visited during the trip was at least 10 – 15 degree cooler than being in the sun. I can totally understand why people lost in the desert hallucinate these things, because they’re absolute Godsends!

We had each started the trip with around 10 liters of water (Tommy is smartest and brought the most), planning to use around a gallon a day for our proposed two-night trip. But by the first evening it had become eminently clear that we were going to run out too soon and would have to head back the following day. In most environments, a gallon of water is plenty for even the most strenuous of activities, but the desert is another animal entirely. I should have known better, considering I ran into the same problem last October during my solo foray into Saguaro National Park. Next time I certainly won’t leave my water filter in the car.

Following lunch we began the real daunting part of the trip- passing through the harrowing Boulder Fields between Lost Palms and the much smaller Victory Palms Oasis. This part of the trek is a tough nut to crack, and I wouldn’t recommend it for anyone who’s afraid of heights or doesn’t have at least a little bit of experience in rock climbing. It’s one thing to scale boulders the size of large trucks with a day-pack, and something entirely different to do it while carrying 40-50 pounds. At times I was forced to lower myself (pack weight and all) between gigantic rock cracks using just my arms. My camera spent most of this part of the trip swinging around from my neck like a pendulum. I’ve got to figure out a better system for carrying it at times like these…

Up and over, around the side, and even underneath at a couple points, we slowly made our way through the three sets of truly enormous boulder fields, occasionally meeting with such difficult points that we had to take our packs off completely and pass them to each other just to continue forward progress. It was as physically demanding as anything I’ve ever done with a full pack, but also incredibly fun. Before I knew about leave-no-trace backpacking (many, many years ago), I used to love bushwhacking trails, but creative route-finding through gigantic boulder fields is something even more exciting. I felt quite fulfilled after making my way through the unique set of obstacles this part of the hike presented.

When we did reach Victory Palms, the smallest of the oases we encountered on the entire trip, we stopped to rest and sit amongst its cool shade, giving our bodies the chance to cool down. I took the opportunity to dry out my now-soaking shirt. It seemed odd that any Desert Fan Palms could make it in this location, because I didn’t see or hear any running water. I began a rudimentary exploration of the area around the sole giant’s trunk, trying to determine how it managed to survive there. Climbing up a steep rock face I caught a glimpse around it’s massive fans and noticed that it’s shade created a cave-like area about the size of a small living room between the trunk of the tree and the canyon wall. I descended into it and found signs of human activity.

What I had first thought might be some sort of voodoo shrine turned out to be a couple fence posts blocking off a deep cave. It was only 2 or 3 feet high, so I got down on my belly to get a better look, realizing that it was far deeper than I had originally guessed. I then heard the sound of dripping water. There was a large pool of it deep in there- probably 10-15 feet away based on the rocks that I threw- being fed by an internal spring within the base of the hillside. A cool air blew from the cave onto my face, cooling my body, and tempting me to crawl inside. Looking around the little cavern created by the fan palm I felt like I was in a scene out of Apocalypse Now. If I hadn’t known any better, I would have sworn that I was deep in the jungles of South East Asia.

After 20 minutes or so we left Victory Palms behind, heading further East and beginning to watch for the “steep dry fall that’s easily mistaken for nothing more than another canyon wall”. Sean pointed it out (correctly), but Tommy and I both thought that we hadn’t gone far enough yet, so we kept walking. Our cursory glance of the Topographic Map (which wasn’t detailed enough to provide us with much certainty about our location) made it seem like we hadn’t arrived at the correct location yet. And our directions, which had been excellent up until this point, failed us miserably. Rather than telling us to look for a random, impossible to identify canyon, they should have guided us to follow the rusty copper piping we’d seen everywhere since Lost Palms Oasis!

We continued for about another half mile down the wash, which opened up into a wide canyon basin here, offering a view of distant mountain ranges hundreds of miles to the East. At this point we figured that Sean had been right, and that we were probably already past the turn off up into Munsen Canyon, but we wanted to make absolutely certain before turning around. Stumbling upon the largest Cholla Cactus garden I’ve ever seen – far larger than the famed “Teddy Bear Cholla Garden” in central Joshua Tree- we took a break to reassess our surroundings and try to pinpoint ourselves on the map. A couple minutes later we were relatively certain that we had gone too far.

We lingered for some time amongst the cacti before deciding to return West. We set up camp along the Northern bank of the dry riverbed, hoping that a flash flood wouldn’t arrive that evening. Tommy and I took a quick scouting trip to the base of the hillside we thought led to Munsen Canyon, where we uncovered all the clues necessary for determining that it was in fact, the correct one. The piping heading out of the main canyon and up that offshoot was our first strong indication, followed by the discovery of a very dry, but very obvious stream bed that we figured had to be Summit Springs. We returned to camp and started to settle in for the night.

As the sun dipped beneath the towering canyon walls to the South, we put on our evening clothes and began collecting up deadfall for a fire. It didn’t take long to amass quite a collection that would last us through most of the night. I set up my tarp just a few feet from the fire, then relaxed in my camp chair and enjoyed the stillness of the impending darkness. Lighting the fire was so easy I could hardly believe it. The stuff out here was even drier than what we found in Death Valley. No kindling whatsoever was necessary- a single chemical block managed to light logs the thickness of my forearm in mere seconds.

About an hour after darkness fell I finally noticed the beauty of the night sky, which was just absolutely filled with stars! It was clear enough that we could spot the haze of the Milky Way, a couple different constellations, and what I still think was Venus and Mars. I really enjoyed sleeping without a roof over my head so I could take in the view. On previous trips I’ve always planned to wake up in the middle of the night for stargazing, but the comfort, warmth, and security provided by my tent has kept me from doing so. I will most certainly be traveling without that extra two and a half pounds on future trips, whenever possible.

We got up early the next morning and packed up everything but water and food. Leaving it behind in Sean’s tent, we set off for Munsen Oasis. The trip there was certainly no cake walk, though I think the boulders between Lost Palms and Victory were probably more difficult to navigate. It certainly made things easier that we were able to leave so much weight behind at camp. Had we attempted the climb through the boulder fields with full packs the day before, I’m doubtful we could have even made it through. It took a lot of energy just to reach Summit Springs Oasis, and Munsen was considerably further North.

The first view of Summit Springs was incredibly rewarding! At this point we knew without any doubt that we were, in fact, in Munsen Canyon, and heading the right direction. This area hosted some of the largest pools of water I had yet seen on the trip, and I would have wanted to stay a bit longer if I thought we had time for it. There were some bees in the area though (as our directions had warned), and Sean doesn’t know if he’s allergic or not (somehow he’s never been stung…) so we set off after only a momentary stop. I shot some great pictures in this area though, and I’m really glad that I took a couple extra seconds to get them right!

After some more difficult bouldering I finally caught sight of another set of Fan Palms that turned out to be Munsen Oasis itself. This spot is every bit as beautiful as it is difficult to reach. Secluded, serene, and absolutely splendid. An oasis in the very heart of an unforgiving desert, it is a true gem to behold. There’s nothing quite like the rush that comes after wandering through the desert for hours and climbing your way through gigantic boulder fields before finally finding a welcoming grove of Desert Fan Palms. Sitting in their shade, listening to the sounds of the trickling stream, it was hard to believe that we were in the middle of such a hostile environment. It was quite the trip, and entirely worth the extra effort.

I was all set for another exciting weekend of backpacking with the usual suspects, when at the last second- everyone else bailed out. Fortunately, I’ve spent so much of the past year traveling, backpacking, and camping by myself that this no longer poses even the slightest problem for me. Going it alone has become a necessary evil since I started getting serious about my photography, bringing a tripod along on my trips, and needing quite a bit of freedom to “get the right shot”. That’s not an easy task alone, and becomes quite impossible when being hurried along by impatient friends!

It’d been just about a month since I last visited Spruce Grove Campground in Angles National Forest, and I wanted to see if the torrential rains Southern CA experienced over the last couple of weeks had caused any damage to the area. I was somewhat worried that the campground itself could have simply been washed away by the swollen North Fork of the San Gabriel River, but I found out that this was certainly not the case.

I’ve spent more nights at Spruce Grove than any other campground – or anywhere other than the places I’ve “officially” resided over the years – and have developed quite a kinship and appreciate for the place. Trips to Spruce now feel like “returning home”, offering a comfortable familiarity that allows me to quickly settle my mind, and really just enjoy the surroundings.

The drive up the hill to Chantry Flats held an ominous, but beautiful sight, of fog banks slowly rolling over the hillsides to the North (pictured above). In all the trips I’ve made to the area (at least 10-15 now), it was the first time I’ve ever stopped along the way to look out over Los Angeles, and I think it was entirely worth it.

When I arrived at the Chantry Pack Station I found that it was already too late to get a legitimate parking spot so I positioned my car along the side of the hill in a somewhat precarious position right over a drainage ditch leading off the hillside and down into Santa Anita Canyon. If it had rained hard enough, my car could have easily washed away.

I posed for a quick self-portrait (just in case someone came upon my camera, but couldn’t find the body), and then was on my merry way. I’m still getting used to the new backpack – a Deuter ACT Lite 65 + 10 – and spent a good deal of the hike adjusting it to try and make things perfectly comfortable. It took me much longer than usual to reach Spruce Grove as I took a detour to check out Sturtevant Falls, hoping to shoot it in even daylight. Unfortunately I arrived too late and wasn’t able to get even a half-way decent shot of it, as the sunlight had totally washed out the upper third of the falls. I’ll have to try again next time.

Along the way up the Lower Falls Trail I heard some odd banging sounds that I figured must have been one of the local denizens working on their cabin, but it turned out to be a man hammering away at the rocky floor along the trail. I stopped to chat with him no more than 100 yards from the “No Horses” sign posted where the Upper and Lower Falls Trails meet, asking him what he was doing. He said that he was “making the trail safer for [his] horse”, which I found hilarious. In all the miles along these trails, there’s only one “No Horses” sign, and this guy was within eyesight of it preparing the trail for his horse- you can’t make shit like this up!

He was essentially chiseling out some steps in the “decomposed granite” floor, creating a flatter and more even surface on which his horse could more confidently step. That part of the trail was pretty iffy, so I don’t mind that he was obviously breaking the local rules. I  figured he might even have been the guy in charge of the horse and mule trains used to resupply Sturtevant’s Camp, so I left the point alone and continued on my way. I later found out that he is somewhat of a local celebrity, “a real old time cowboy” I was told, who’s lead numerous pack trains all the way from the desert east of San Gorgonio to Chantry Flats (which is no easy task!).

At the top of the falls I stopped for another break to sit near one of the larger pools along this part of the San Gabriel River. This is one of my favorite spots along the river in the entire Angeles National Forest and perhaps even one of my favorites in all of Southern California. The sky, the canyon walls, and the river all come together so nicely here, and the roaring sound of the waterfall drowns out any other noise and creates a great spot for relaxation and meditation. I couldn’t resist myself and had to take another self-portrait (though I wish I hadn’t stood right in front of that little waterfall!).

When I finally arrived at Spruce Grove I was dismayed to find it busier than I’ve ever seen it before, to the point that I couldn’t even find an open picnic table to sit down at for lunch. I dropped my bag on the ground and used it as a seat (it’s more comfortable than a wooden bench anyway), and was lucky enough that a day-hiking couple cleared out just a minute or two later, making room for me. As luck would have it, I even managed to snag my favorite site! I set up my tent and unpacked my gear right next to a group of Koreans eating some spicy-smelling soup, then finished my peanut butter and jelly lunch.

All the day hikers cleared out no more than 30 minutes after my arrival, leaving only a large group of (very loud) Boy Scouts to the North. I set myself to gathering firewood, planning on collecting for more than usual. On trips like these, I typically go to bed as soon as I run out of wood, but this time I wanted to get enough to make sure that I could stay up all night, if I were so inclined. I went a little overboard though, as you can see below. If I had used it sparingly (hah!), it probably would have been enough to last at least two or three nights at the campground. I even considered trying to borrow the Sturtevant Camp phone to make an emergency call to work, letting them know I wouldn’t be making it in the following day.

Collecting fire wood is an art form that I think most people probably can’t appreciate – mostly because they haven’t done it. Over the past year I’ve turned it into a science, developing my skills and learning which woods to go after (and which to avoid), and how exactly to go about it. I used to try and muscle my way through the branches, breaking them arbitrarily wherever I felt they needed to be snapped, but I’ve since learned to be patient and let the wood do the work for you. I used to work up a sweat, get covered in filth, and typically end the process with at least a bit of blood flowing from each hand, but I’ve learned to calm down, take it slowly, and conserve my energy.

I’ve always really enjoyed snapping sticks, and will still do that if I’m just sitting around idly and have some at hand, but it’s just not as rewarding as shredding large tree branches, snapping them into smaller pieces, and creating a gigantic pile of fuel to protect yourself from the impending cold and dark. I even got to try out my new knife (the incredible SOG Seal Pup Elite TiNi) to make the process a little easier. If it weren’t for campfires, I’m not even sure I’d be able to continue backpacking with as much zeal as I currently exude. Gathering the fire wood and relaxing by the fire has become an integral part of the process. It’s hard for me to believe that I used to do this without having at least a little backcountry fire.

I set up the godsend that is my Therm-a-Rest Compack Chair, awaiting the fall of twilight by settling in to read the final chapters of Carlos Castaneda’s absolutely breathtaking work “Tales of Power”. There’s nothing quite like reading about don Juan and Castaneda’s adventures while sitting in dense forest, right alongside a winding stream, amongst gigantic oak trees and the steepest mountains in the lower 48 states. It was a powerful experience, to say the least.

I still get dirty looks from people when they find out just how often I go backpacking, especially once they realize that I often go it alone, but I that many of them would enjoy it just as much as I do if they’d only get off their asses and try it sometime. Unfortunately this couch-potato, consumerist society in which we live doesn’t value this sort of behavior, and I doubt that the glowing rectangles will lose their strangle-hold over the general population at any point in the near future, so for now it looks like they’ll all have to live vicariously through me. I’d rather it be uncrowded anyway.

When night did finally fall, it came damn fast – the rush of darkness was so quick that I hardly noticed the twilight, that “gap between the two worlds” as don Juan calls it. I got my fire going relatively easily, especially considering how wet all my wood was. It took me three matches and two Coghlan emergency tinders, which is much better than usual, though still far short of my goal of using just 1 match without any chemical assistance. I know that I’m capable of performing that feat, but I always end up being too lazy to properly prepare for achieving it. Maybe next time…

For the next few hours I sat quietly by the glow of the fire, snapping hundreds of photos for my Fire Art Photography series, and just enjoying the beauty of the environment. It’s times like these when I actually feel like a human being, rather than some sort of automaton worker sent here to labor away in front of a computer terminal. It’s times like these that make the daily grind worth all the trouble!

At some point (pretty late I think – though I’m still uncertain) – I let the fire burn down too low and was unable to resurrect it, forcing me to retire to the tent for the rest of the night. As I lay down I noticed that I had accidentally given myself a great view of the near full moon (1 day past full) rising through the trees. I fell asleep listening to the sounds of the forest, and didn’t wake up until 11 am the next morning. It was a great trip, but I’ll have to return soon to take care of some unfinished business since my camera battery died first thing the next morning.