Every Picture Tells a Story

(or How I lost my wife)

If you look carefully, you can see a telescope or two....

Well, there I was, stuck in a dry lake bed in the middle of the desert, no food, no water. The sun was beginning to drop, as was the temperature......

Earlier.

Yesterday (Saturday, 13th March) started off OK. Lazily rolled out of bed - no need to rush as I'm only going to Borrego Springs camping with Barbara (wife) and Bill (friend).

I thought I'd make a ride of it, as it was such a lovely day. So at 11:30, when we had packed all the gear into Bill's truck - including the telescope and Barbara, it was time to set off.

I won't bore you all with the details of the roads and stuff, because you've all done all of them. So, in short, Lake Wohlford, Palomar, Mesa Grande, Santa Ysabel, Julian, Banner Grade, Borrego Springs. There, that's out of the way.

Here's the highlights:

Turning off I-15 onto Via Rancho Parkway, I came upon the tail of a gang of Harley riders. So I puttered along behind them for a while, and waved and smiled. Hey!, I may as well as not have been there at all, 'cos they ignored me completely. Wot's wrong with these folx? Anyhow, I got the last larf, as they were so busy ignoring me they forgot to turn off towards the Wild Animal Park (fitting place? <g>) and had to scrabble through the traffic in a most uncool way  to get to the right turn they needed.

Lake Wohlford was really pretty. If you haven't done that loop, then it's certainly worth a ride.

I've never been to Palomar at a weekend, but I'd heard lots of stories about 'Power Rangers' gathering there in their droves. So it was a bit of a surprise to discover that the only person I saw the whole way up the South Grade was a CHP occifer parked in the bushes waiting to pounce. I raised my hand to wave and realized that I was in a pretty fierce right-hander at the time, so courtesy took a back seat for the moment <g>

There was some weird white stuff stuck to the cliffs at the side of bits of the road. I'm told it's called 'snow'.

At the cafe at the top was a large (30 or so) collection of bikes - mostly sportbikes and about 8 of those were VFR's. So I grabbed my flask of Starbucks (the local brew up there being filthy) and set about looking for a victim to chat to.

It turned out to a a fella called Gary from Lake Elsinore. Down for the day on his Suzuki Katana. We chewed the fat for a while and I set off again.

When I pulled out of Mesa Grande onto 78 towards Santa Ysabel, I noticed a bike going in my direction a little way back along 78. This bike caught up with me and tagged along behind on the way up to Julian. In the traffic there, I turned and waved and realized that the bike was identical to mine. We made our way through Julian and out towards Banner Grade and came up behind a couple of other bikes. We started the 'swoop' down Banner Grade, but unfortunately, got caught up behind a couple of cages, and there we stuck, because the bikes in front wouldn't overtake, and the cars wouldn't pull over, and I was far too courteous to think of going by the lot of them<g>.

Until I got fed up with having to brake all the way down the hill, and on a clear stretch went carefully by, keeping to my side of the double yellow lines (is that OK, attorney?)

So, normal life resumed, and the mystery VFR followed my lead and we had a very pleasant ride together to the junction with S3, where I pulled over. And so did he. And it turned out to be the guy (Pat, I think he said his name was) who we'd bumped into a couple of weeks previously in Borrego Springs. So we jawed for a bit and I headed off to meet up with Bill and Barbara at Christmas Circle.

All the 'proper' campsites were full at Borrego, so we decided to head off for Blair valley, where there was an 'unserviced' site, and where at least one group of amateur astronomers were going to be setting up for one of their 'dark site' observing thingies.

I had to get a one day pass (no please don't start that thread again), so B & B set off whilst I went to the visitor center to get a pass. So I followed them back to Scissors Crossing, and left down to the campsite.

Bill and I made our way, in a leisurely manner, back down S3 and 78 and found Scissors Crossing.  I knew the astronomers held their star parties at Blair Valley campground, and the rangers at the Visitor Center had told us that it was large enough that we'd certainly find a place to camp there.  So there we headed.  We pulled in and found a ranger ... not the same ranger Simon later talked to, which may have some bearing on the story!  "Our" ranger pointed us up the main "road" into Blair Valley Campground and told us about the YMCA camped part-way along the "road".  So Bill and I, driving a 4WD GMC Jimmy headed up that road.  It was a bumpy ride.  There were low hills towards our left, and we went past a small secluded 'cove' and saw a tent set up, and made a mental note of it.   Drove onwards, and eventually drove past the YMCA camp (driving carefully here, since there were various Very Short People wandering about).  Continued onwards for what seemed like quite a while.  The road turned to sand.  Even the Jimmy was having to work to travel on it!  We had passed two more small encampments, but hadn't seen any astronomical equipment at either one of them.

We decided Simon wouldn't have been able to negotiate the now sandy road any further, and figured that if we turned around on the main road there'd be no way we'd miss him heading in our direction.  So that's what we did, and eventually returned to the first small 'cove'.   We drove partway in, far enough to have a private site but where we could watch the main road.

On the way I rather surprised myself. I decided to overtake a car doing about 45 mph. As I pulled out, in 3rd gear, I must have been a bit too enthusiastic with the loud handle because the front wheel reared in the air and I discovered the meaning of the term 'power wheelie'.  It is not a pleasant feeling being alongside a cage with one's front wheel in the air! I'll bet he thought I was showing off. Well, I wasn't, honest, it scared the living daylights out of me.

So, having overshot the campsite (campsite? it's just a bit of scrub land in the middle of nowhere) I eventually made it to the little cabin and the Park Ranger. He pointed me in the direction of the observing site, and I headed off there.

Deities, have you tried riding a sport-bike through loose sand with ruts? If not, don't. It reminds of trying to ride in fresh snow. I nearly lost it a couple of times, and turning around after the inevitable wrong turns caused some fairly severe internalization of stress (commonly known as 'muttering epithets').

About three miles later I came across the dried up lake bed, known as Little Bear Valley, and parked up to await the arrival of B & B. Little did I know that they had parked up a little way beyond the Park Ranger's hut to await the arrival of me!

So I waited. Even turned the cell phone on (why is it that those things are never any use when you need them?) Duh, of course, there ain't any phones hereabouts, so how could they call me?

And waited...

And as you can see, took a photo, to pass the time...

And waited....

And waited...

We hung around for about an hour, wondering why (a) Simon hadn't gone past and (b) why Simon on his VFR hadn't got to the Blair Valley Campground ahead of us in the first place!  *g*  From where we were, we had decided to "stay put, since we were where we were supposed to be".  Bill drove back to S3 and found that someone had "seen a red motorcycle".  But Bill couldn't find any sign of Simon.  So he returned to where I was.

The sun was definitely on its way out, and we had no idea what had become of Simon.  We parked the Jimmy along the main road in the campground, where it would be certainly spotted.  Eventually I persuaded Bill to bring me and a small amount of gear down to the side of the main road, and himself drive into Shelter Valley to try to reach Simon on the cell phone.  The desert is an unforgiving place, and Bill said he felt spooky leaving me on my own.   But I had him leave me with a tent and clothes and food and water and a light.   And if I needed to, I knew I could hike up to the YMCA camp and they'd take care of me.  So off he went.

And I waited ...

And drank my flask of Starbucks, for warmth and comfort.

And waited ...

And waited ...

And couldn't help but remember that every year a few people die in the desert, having somehow become "lost".  And tried not to imagine Simon running "out of road", unequipped as he was for the desert.

And about 5:15, decided that, despite the boy scout roolz about staying put if you're where you are supposed to be, 'cos how can they find you if you are somewhere else, and with dark thoughts about B&B having lighted off to Arizona and beyond, never to be seen again, and being grateful that I'd brought the front door keys with me.....

I decided to set off home.

So I headed off down the track with the setting sun right in my eyes, and now, because I was going downhill, negotiating all that loose sand was even harder.

The sun was now behind the low hills, and I had already donned Simon's jacket and wool socks.  I was wondering about the most convenient method for getting into my long underwear under my jeans.  A lone bicyclist rode by, on his way into the campground.  "Oh ... if you see a red motorcycle ... " I began, as he rode past.

He stopped and came back.  Enheartened, I told him that my friend and I had expected my husband to join us, but we had seen no sign of him.  And my friend and I had the camping gear, but my husband didn't.  So if he saw someone on a red motorcycle, would he please tell him where we were.

"I just saw a red motorcycle back by the entrance to the campground", he said.  "Do you want me to ride back and tell him?"

Grateful for some hope, I begged, "Would you, please".

He made sure I had a flashlight, and warm clothes, and food and water.  And he made sure that my friend was heading back towards where I was.  Then he rode off in the direction he'd just come from.

And I waited ...

And waited ...

And waited ...

At last I made it to the road.

Went to the warden's cubbyhole and wrote a note - "I've buggered off home"

And that was it - except to report that I was not missing, to the police.

And I kept seeing something ... a narrow something ... about motorcycle-width ... heading my way.  But, darnit, it was that dark tree down the road!

But presently my bicycle friend did return.  He said, "There's good new, and bad news ... "

I almost laughed, and asked for the bad news.  He said that the red motorcycle wasn't there, and asked if my name was Barbara.  Since it was, he said that the folks in the trailers had again seen the guy on the red motorcycle, but the GOTRM had evidently left the campground just a few minutes earlier.

Wot a relief!  Since the bicyclist now knew my name, I knew that had been Simon.  And my hope was that Simon had simply headed home.

The bicyclist said that the trailer campers had invited me and my friend to head down their way if we needed help for the night.  And he himself was at the YMCA camp, and we were welcome to head up their way if we needed help for the night.  And he rode off, leaving a much happier Barbara!

Presently Bill arrived, somewhat chagrined, with a note in his hand.  It wos from Simon!  :-D  Simon had simply gone home.  Bill had phoned three times, but hadn't been able to reach Simon on the cell phone.

Bill and I debated what to do.  We wanted to let Simon know that we were OK and that we knew he was OK.  But Bill wasn't sure how far he could go on the gas he had left.  I knew the gas station in Julian closed early.  We figured that we'd at least drive to a phone, and if Simon was home safely Bill and I might simply camp for the night and drive out after the gas stations opened.

We stopped on our way out to thank the trailer campers for their kind invitation to help.  They had cell phones - two of 'em!  But they couldn't get a signal on either one.  :-(

I casually mentioned the "gas crisis", and one of 'em said, "I have about four gallons in a gas can that I'll sell you, and then you can make Ramona with no problem.  :-)  The trailer campers had also mentioned that it'd got down to 35 the previous night.  Bill and another friend and I had spent one astonishingly cold night camping at Cuyamaca in November.  We didn't care to do that again!  So with that news and the extra gas Bill and I decided to certainly head homeward.

So happily Bill and I continued onward.  We found an open gas station in Santa Ysabel (this was shortly before 7:30 pm, in case anyone needs gas in that area at that hour of a Saturday night).  And from the gas station I again called the cell phone.   No response.

So I dialed our home phone, intending to at least leave a message.

"Hello," answers Simon ...

About half an hour after I got home, the phone rang. 'Dang', I thought, 'It's her, how can I ever get rid of her' <ggl>

But, nice as you please, she says, 'We're on our way home, we're in Santa Ysabel'

And that's the story.

We never got to see the stars, we never got to freeze in a tent under the desert skies.

On the way from Santa Ysabel to Ramona, I mentioned to Bill that since we'd come out to see the stars in the first place, if he could find a convenient dark place to stop for a short time that would be lovely.  We found a turnout and were happily amazed, once we stopped and looked, at how wonderful the stars were.  I didn't pull out our telescope, but I showed Bill the Orion Nebula and the Pleaides in our binoculars.  And we admired the heavens, in general.  And then headed our tired but happier way home.  Have yet to freeze in a tent under the desert skies, though. *g*

But I cooked Bill and us a steak and he went home happy :-)

Postscript:

I did the whole trip (212 miles) on one tank of fuel. That's about 45 mpg. Today (Sunday 14th March) Barbara, after a long while waiting for winter to subside, got back on her GS500E and did a few backards and forrards runs in a local parking lot.