Social, so to speak

SA Guide: Juniper Flats, Stubbe Spring trail

The car lights are at least five miles away to the east at about the same elevation as where I'm sitting, with a broad, shallow Joshua Tree-dotted basin between us. The lights move slowly, and eventually wink out as they either snake behind one of the huge stacks of boulders that seem to grow out of the land here or turn to leave the park.

I hiked to this spot in the backcountry for the solitude. Yes, it's true that finding an available public campsite in Joshua Tree National Park...on a weekend...in spring, is akin to winning the lottery. But I brought my backpacking gear because I didn't want to hang out in a campground. I wanted to be sitting here on a ledge at the eastern base of Quail Mountain, with an incredibly expansive and breathtaking view of Juniper Flats stretching from the northeast to the southwest - and, save for an unusually noisy community of birds on the flats around me, not a soul about for miles.

So why, when looking at those lights, did I just feel an urge to pack up my gear and head home?

The walk out to Juniper Flats from the backcountry board on Keys View Rd. was easy and beautiful. I'm generally not inclined to gush over wildflowers but the profusion and diversity along this section of the California Riding and Hiking Trail was impressive enough to make me take notice, and quite a few pictures. The trail climbs gently westward over the first four-plus miles before intersecting a dirt road that leads north for another mile into Juniper Flats. My plan had been to climb Quail Mountain after setting up camp at it's eastern foot. But a late start, a bit of dawdling in camp, and a wrong turn up a wash that doubled my hike time meant I ended up exploring some of the terrain on the southern ridges of the mountain, and having too little time to summit.

This wasn't a particularly big deal. I'd climbed Quail before, the previous time from the west. I'd even camped in the saddle at the southwest corner of the broad peak - a saddle I now looked up at from the wrong ridge and realized it was going to take way too long to reach, get to the peak, and be back before dark. So I bagged the idea, satisfied myself with the fact I had a long and previously unexplored trail to enjoy the next day, and lazily wound my way back down the mountainside to my home away from home. I reveled in clear skies and spectacular views. I ate my dinner while the sun set behind me, and shivered just a bit as I watched the moon rise. All was right.

That's how it usually feels, and that's how it felt this time - right up until that moment in the dark when the lights which signified other people made "home away from home" seem...too far away from home. To be sure, it was a momentary impulse. And it was different; more elemental than the expected and omnipresent "wish you were here" kind of longing (my wife Laura and I hike, camp and backpack together most of the time, and that missing part of the experience always follows me when I venture out alone). This rather primal yen felt like the call of a prehistoric campfire, an instinctive compulsion - in the midst of a wide, darkening landscape of unknowns - to seek out the security of the tribe.

All primates are social animals (even me), and most primates, including humans, live as part of a larger group. And while it's true that not all humans are party animals (especially me), we all hail from a long line of community-oriented ancestors who, however much they may have had to endure the agonistic (conflictive) aspects of the clan, also obviously made good use of affiliative (cooperative) advantages such as decreased predation and access to resources, notably mates. As much as I tend to dismiss it, and those who know me might laugh when they hear it (the word curmudgeon has been invoked), the communal force is as strong with me as many other members of my species - even if I don't run out of fingers and toes when counting Facebook friends.

The moment passes, and the urge is gone. I still miss my wife, but I've got an e-book, a warm down quilt and some new thermals waiting for me (yes, it gets cold in the desert). Following a last look at the moon-frosted mountains to the south I head for my tent. A while later, after I realize I've been reading the same sentence for the past five minutes, I douse the e-glow and let myself begin to slip away. It's well into the night now. I'm still very alone, and it would take little effort to imagine all sorts of secret dangers lurking out there among the brittlebrush. But tribal protection from creeping scorpions and stalking cougars is far from my mind at this moment. All I can think of is those rowdy birds that just won't stop chittering back and forth.

That kind of sociality really messes with a guy's sleep.

Info:

Juniper Flats: Distance - 5.6 miles, Elevation range - 694', Rating - Moderate
Stubbe Spring trail: Distance - 10 miles, Elevation gain - 670', Rating - Moderate-Difficult

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