Christmas Adventures in Joshua Tree

Erik Sandelin

"Feet don't fail me now, feet don't fail me know" I keep repeating to myself while I closely scan the rock for a possible weakness where to put my right foot. I am in the middle of a gigantic slab on Saddle Rock in Joshua Tree. Looking down I can't see the last bolt, just the rope disappearing over the last bulge, and looking up there's nothing, just the rock and the blue sky. I know that the routes at Joshua Tree can have a bit of runout but this is ridiculous!! Torger, my belayer, assures me that there is an anchor up there. " I hope you are right" I say and precariously move up on my right foot. 50 feet and several prayers later I can finally see the anchors. Carefully, I make the last few moves to the anchors. "Saved!!". Soon Torger joins me at the belay, smiling as always. Despite the runout, I have to once again give his route selecting skills highest marks. After a brief rest Torger suggest that if we hurry down, we can climb headstone rock before sunset. Two rappels bring us down to the ground. After a short drive to Bryant campground we step out of the car and I get a view of headstone rock. Perched on the edge of a cliff is a gigantic boulder which looks like it might topple over the edge at any moment. Half an hour later Torger is halfway up the outrageously exposed southwest arete of the boulder. The sun has just disappeared behind the mountains, and one by one the stars are lighted on the clear desert sky. "Life is good" I think to myself and reflect upon how I ended up here...

Looking for a place with great climbing to do my postdoc at, I didn't hesitate twice when I got a fellowship for a postdoc at Stanford University. Having spent the last year on partying and finishing my Ph.D., climbing had highest priority when I arrived in early December. Surfing the web I found out about Rock Rendezvous' Christmas party, and 4 days after arriving in California I had found a partner who wanted to spend the Christmas climbing with me in Joshua Tree!! Not only that, this guy turns out to be a good chef, entertaining story teller, fond of whiskey and, above all, he only shows me five stars routes!!! I must have a lucky star!!

"This looks easy", I think to myself as Torger sails up the crack of "Double Cross" on our first day. 15 minutes later I am sweating and cursing as I try to figure out how to hand jam the !#$%& Crack. Arriving at the belay I am painfully conscious about my lack of crack climbing skills. In an attempt to immediately make up for this, I set logic reasoning aside and volunteer to lead "Dogleg" which is a harder crack climb than "Double Cross"!! My determination to become a solid crack climber takes me up the sparsely protected start and the lower part of the crack, but when the crack steepens, I suddenly feel weak and feeble, and after a few futile attempts to surmount this obstacle, I hand over the sharp end to Torger, who, once again, just sails up the crack.

Several five star routes later it is noon at Christmas day and unfortunately Torger has to drive home for work. Captivated by the beautiful desert and the excellent climbing I decide to stay a couple of more days. I reason that with so many climbers around it must be possible to find a new partner and somebody who can give me a ride home. Using the noteboard at the campground I soon find a Canadian climber called Ugo who is willing to share his tent and stove with me. Unfortunately a nasty leader fall has put Ugo out of action for a couple of days, but a phone call get me in touch with a french climber, Yves. He is spending the holidays in Palm Springs and we arrange to go climbing the next day. Yves turns out to be a good climber, but unfortunately our personalities don't match each over. Although we do some really nice slab climbs at Echo Cove I realize I can't stand Yves. He talk's too much, he only wants to do bolted climbs, and when he says "yes" it don't means "yes, I understand" but rather "yes, the sound waves from your mouth have reached my ears". So, during the whole day I prepare myself mentally for telling Yves that I don't want to climb with him the next day. But by the end of the day when I am finally ready to tell him we meet a lone climber who has just arrived from a trip to Mt. Whitney, and somehow Yves and he decide to go climbing together the next day. "Saved!!".

The next day is the 28th, my birthday and Ugo's!! Ugo realize that his knee has still not recovered from the fall so he decides that he will head back to his girlfriend in Canada, but first he wants to see Yosemite. I reason that if I go with Ugo to the vicinity of Yosemite it should be easy to catch a bus or hitch hike back home to Palo Alto, so we end up celebrating our birthday with a long drive along the Sierras. After spending the night in the car on a pullout along the highway, by noon the next day we arrive in a small town called Jackson on the west side of the Sierras. Here our ways part, so I say goodbye to Ugo and try to find a bus service.

It turns out that there are no bus service in Jackson!! That doesn't worry me because in my naive thoughts I think that it should be very easy to hitchhike in the U.S. After standing with my thumb in the air for an hour, I realize that it is not that easy and I promise myself to henceforth always pick up hitchhikers! Finally an old Ford pulls up by me and a long haired, bearded man in a black leather jacket tells me to get in the car. It turns out that the driver's name is Fred. He is a retired Vietnam veteran living alone on top of a hill above Jackson. The car is a Ford from 1934 which he has been renovating for 8 years! Fred is very friendly, he tells me interesting stories about the history of Jackson and he drops me of just after a junction where two big roads merge in to the road towards Stockton.

Here my luck is greater. I only have to wait for 10 minutes before a white sports car pulls up. A young man tells me to put my rucksack in the trunk and then to climb in throw the window on the passenger's side. "The door is broken" he explains. He tells me that he pulled up when he saw me because he knows from his own experiences how hard it is to hitchhike. I thank him for his consideration and we start talking. Greg turns out to be a 21 year old guy working for the coroner office in San Joaquin county. His job is to pick up dead bodies in the county, which mean 8 to 25 per day, and to make sure that EVERY part of the body goes into the body bag. He gladly tells me about his assignments, like his first assignment when he had to take care of a woman who had shot herself in the head, and Greg had to pick pieces of her brain from the walls. When I ask him how he can stand his job he just tells me "It's cool!". He continues to tell me about how he once had to walk a mile down the railroad tracks to find the head of a woman who had thrown herself in front of the train. During this story his 5 year old son in the backseat interrupts with curious questions: "Dad, was her arms also cut off ?". "Yes, my son". "Dad, was her eyes cut off too ?". "No, you stupid!!". "He watches too many horror movies" Greg explains to me. Finally Greg drops me of at the Greyhound station in Stockton where I quickly find A bus to San Jose, and a couple of hours later I am finally at home in my apartment where I find a note from my Landlady's sister telling me that I have to leave the apartment as soon as possible.

But that's a different story........

Last Update 2001-06-20