Communication Breakdown

DAY THREE HUNDRED AND NINE

People often say that communication is the key to a successful marriage. If that's the case I have no idea how I've been able to stay married to the wife for over 21 years. Even after all these years she's still unable to read my mind and divine what I have planned. It gets very frustrating.

Today my son, Nikolas, was still sick and needed to be cared for. On Thursdays, the wife goes to a women's prayer meeting--to pray for forbearance, I'm sure--but I figured that today she'd know I needed her to come home and watch Nik. I had a great hike planned. At no time did I actually tell her this but I imagined she'd instinctively understand that she was needed. Women are usually good at this. Or, at least the try to make us think they are.

Since the wife is seriously lacking in her mind reading skills I am forced to hike at the only time I have left, after dark. I really don't mind it; I just don't want to do it all the time but with the time change and it getting dark so early some days there may not be any other option.

This sign is pointing to another trail but I'm sure the one I'm going on is also open.

I'm glad there are lots of signs like this but they really should be reflective.

I climb up the trail and get to where I can look down at Target. The great thing about hiking in the dark is that I am the only one on the trail. Come during the day and it has more traffic than Highway 111.

I was enjoying the howls, yips and cries of some coyotes on my way up but that got old quickly. After a while they just sounded like a dog in the neighborhood that would just not shut up. I wanted to throw rocks in the direction of their incessant vocalizations but they were a bit too far away. Instead I turned on the iPod and enjoyed Astral Weeks by Van Morrison.

And as I make my way up the trail the lyrics fit the moment.

You breathe in, you breathe out

And you're high on a high-flying cloud

Wrapped up in your magic shroud

As ecstasy surrounds you

This time it's found you

No Safe Way To Cross

DAY THREE HUNDRED AND EIGHT

I had big plans this morning. OK, maybe not big plans but a medium plan; alright, a plan. I'd hoped to take a drive up Highway 74 and hike cross country over toward Deep Canyon. This canyon is largely inaccessible but I wanted to see if I could follow a hunch and get down to it but life got in the way. That tends to happen when I try to make plans.

My son, Nikolas, woke up this morning with a fever, sore throat and other symptoms of a bad cold. Instead of going out and doing what I wanted to do, I hung out at home and kept an eye on Nik. There's not much you can do for a sick kid other than offer him something to drink and make sure he's comfortable so it's very frustrating. You wish you could do something but you really can't. So after I made sure he was comfortable I went on a little hike.

I couldn't go too far so I thought I'd try to find the start of the trail that goes to the cross on the west side of the La Quinta Cove. I've hiked to this cross before and one time I found a trail that someone put up here but never was able to find out where it started or finished. Hopefully, I'd be able to find that out today.

I head up a faint trail and see where I think a trail goes. See it?

Once up on the ridge the trail takes a bit more shape.

And even further up it gets even more distinct. It goes like this but then I get to a problem spot.

At this point it gets really sketchy. The trail goes across this section where one misstep would send me falling about twenty feet onto the rocks below. I decide that today it's not worth the 0.1% that I might not make it across. No one knows where I am in case I fall and get hurt, I've got a sick kid sleeping at home and the last time I was up here I was attacked by a swarm of bees. Going home seems the sensible thing to do.

Even the way back doesn't look too good at least if I trip here I won't fall to my death.

So far I've tried to get up to this cross three times and made it once. Sometimes the most direct route turns out to be the best.

When You Want Something Done....

DAY THREE HUNDRED AND SEVEN

It has often been said that when you want something done, you have to do it yourself. That point was driven (or hiked) home today. I went out toward the top of the La Quinta cove trails for a short hike because I had to work this morning and saw a few things that did not make me happy.

The parking lot is much busier now than at any time in the past six months.

After my last hike up here a couple of months ago I called the city and told them about this graffiti and gave them directions on where to come a paint over it. It's obviously still there. I guess that'll be a little project for me like this one.

Hiking along I get to a place where the vegetation has overtaken the best route. In addition to bringing paint out here I'll have to bring some loppers as well.

Add bird seed to the list. There aren't a lot of seeds in the wild right now and having some here might keep the birds from eating me grass seed.

In areas of historical significance this might be known as historical litter. Here, however, it is known by a different name: junk.

I wonder how many trash bags this will take. If these were recyclable for 5¢ each I wouldn't have to worry about coming here again and cleaning it up.

Then on the way back I came upon this bad trail erosion. I don't mind mountain bikes riding the trails up here but they tear them up and don't ever do anything to rectify that. Some time with a shovel would do wonders here.

Not everything about this hike was negative. There's nothing that needs to be done with these views except to enjoy them.

Mission Creek Preserve

DAY THREE HUNDRED AND SIX

The Mission Creek Preserve is part of the 33,000 acre Sand to Snow Preserve System. This includes the Pioneertown Mountains Preserve and is adjacent to the Whitewater Preserve. The Preserve gives access to the Pacific Crest Trail and the San Gorgonio Wilderness Area. To reach the Preserve, take Highway 62 North from I-10 and turn left on Mission Creek Road. Follow the road to the gate and park there.

After driving a few miles along the dirt road you come to this sign.

Beyond that is a locked gate topped by this sign.

There is very good signage at the beginning of the Preserve but later on, not so much.

There is a nice information board but, oddly enough, there's not a very good map for hikers. Later, I'll wish I'd had one.

Right inside the gate there are four little stone structures.

Inside each one there is a picnic table.

I didn't bring a lunch so I start hiking up the "trail". I really hate these trails that have tire tracks on them.

As I'm walking along I hear this weird sound and can't place it. I look down toward the creek and discover what's causing it: water.

A mile up the "trail" is the Painted Hills Wetlands. It is very lush with growth and an impassable thickets.

Beyond that is the parking area for the Stone House. I've got to find out how to get a key to that gate so I don't have to walk all this way next time.

The Stone House is a great structure with screen windows and doors without locks.

It's got a nice comfy chair on the porch.

The inside of the Stone House is spotless with some picnic tables.

There is also a fireplace but it's just for looks.

There are even restrooms.

With flush toilets! I was preparing to hold my breath in anticipation of the outhouse smell.

An old windmill and pump are also part of the property.

I continue on the "trail" up beyond this wilderness sign. This turns out to be a mistake because I should have taken a different route here but there wasn't a sign or map directing me in the proper direction. I found out later there is a section of private land ahead.

But when I got to this gate I wondered what was going on.

I followed this trail around the gate and down to the creek bottom. Upon returning, I found out I should have gone up a different fork of the creek to bypass the private land.

I hiked up the creek until I got to the PCT and had to turn around at that point.

It's too bad, too, because it was just starting to get interesting. Next time I'll know which way to go and I'll see if it's possible to drive just a bit further up the road. There's a lot of interesting terrain up here and I'd imagine in the springtime when there's snow on the surrounding mountains and the flowers are blooming that it is incredible. I'm looking forward to coming back.

A Love Supreme

DAY THREE HUNDRED AND FIVE

November 1 is All Saints Day. The only reason I know this is because it is the birthday of one of my boyhood friends. Every year he made sure we knew it. I don't know why a young kid thought he was a saint of some kind but such is the mindset of children. I suppose he was Saint Bruce of Westminster, the patron saint of boyhood pals.

In honor of the day I thought about what Saintly hike I might do. I thought the three Saints would be good, the trifecta of San Jacinto, San Gorgonio and Mount Baldy (Mount San Antonio). The only problems were I had to work and such an undertaking would require 24 hours and a support crew. So much for that idea.

I settled on the Palm Desert Cross. When I started this crazy endeavor the Cross was my first hike of the year. If I'd actually done any planning I could have made it my traditional first hike of each month but I didn't think that far ahead.

When I got out to do the hike the moon was already well up above the horizon. I'd be coming back after the sunset so with the moon so high I knew a flashlight wouldn't be necessary. Getting out of my vehicle I heard the sound of music playing. It was someone playing Amazing Grace on the flute, quite fitting for All Saints Day.

The flautist left and I wondered what music might be appropriate from the selections on my iPod. I decide on A Love Supreme by Saint John of Coltrane.

The weather is perfect and the light magnificent.

If a moment could be saintly, this moment would be.

When I get to the top, the cross still hasn't come on quite yet.

Let there be light.

And the light was good. I sit down at the top and just enjoy the view of the city below, the moon above and the glow of the cross. As the music of A Love Supreme ends I decide to play My Favorite Things, another Coltrane album on the way down.

Hiking in moonlight is unquestionably one of my favorite things.