Fear and loathing in Anza Borrego

The plan was to go out to the desert with Kip and Dave and Henry and look at the stars with his big old telescope. 

I would take some milky way shots and brush up on my astrophotography technique. 

But everybody had other plans and Kip bailed.

I probably should have bailed as well but I am stubborn and once I say I am going to do something it is hard to get me off the track. 

I would go by myself.

The location was in Little Blair Valley, way out there past the Great American Overland Stage Route. 

Astronomers like to to visit the place because it is the darkest spot in our area and perfect for viewing the stars.

I had never been there before, although I have been visiting Anza Borrego since my earliest teenage years.

I like the desert but I have had some very hair raising and near death experiences out there, not to mention some very psychedelic and heavy ones.

I am a person famous for my lack of preparation but had the sense to at least get a few things assembled in case things went bad. I went to Ace and bought a new flashlight. I threw a blanket and folding chair in the back of my Mazda. I bought food and a spare gallon and a half of water. Put new batteries in my intervalometer. Filled the car with gas.

Thought about a shovel in case I got stuck but never followed through.

I told a few people, including my wife, where I was going and to come look for me if I wasn't back by Monday morning. "Little Blair Valley, repeat that."

Kip had given me directions and that was a good thing because cell service was mostly dead out there. Hour and a half trip out there but things didn't seem right. I finally got through to Kip and he said I seemed to be in the right place.

I was worried because the sand looked extra deep. My memories of being stuck in the riverbed at Jemez Peak were fresh in my mind. Was out there for hours before being discovered and the cost of payment to the Navajo man who got me out with a chain was rather high. 

Kip said he had no trouble with his suv. Hmmm... I found a young couple in the area and asked them if I was in the right place and they had no idea where Little Blair Valley was? I was in Blair Valley, big difference.

I finally got through to my friend and sent him a location marker. He confirmed that I had missed the small stake in the road and overshot my quarry.

I backtracked back to the highway and retraced my steps until I found the right turnoff.

I drove about a mile on the dirt road and noticed a surfeit of cactus and cholla surrounding my car.

I was certainly not wearing the right shoes. 

Idiot. 

Had a cholla go through my sole once, never want to do that again. 

Something to remember.

I drove past my intended destination, there being little there there, in Blair, but eventually found a place overlooking the dry lake to setup and wait for darkness.

The rock wrens serenaded me, the odd bipedal interloper and the black throated sparrows also came in for a closer look.

It was pretty and I was alone. I saw one lone car disappear into the horizon the entire day. Nothing to do but wait for three hours until the sun went down. Never got cooler than 95° all night.

Unfortunately my camera gear was not optimal for the situation. 

My favorite Rokinon 14mm had committed suicide in the car under elevation change a few years ago and the 12mm replacement was a fisheye that didn't really do the job as I visualized it.

Oh well, as I always say, never let the perfect be the enemy of the good, do the best job you can with what you have.

It was certainly pretty out there.

Dusk came and I settled back in my chair and waited for the star show to start.

I switched around from the fisheye to my 24-70mm 2.8. It was hard to find infinite focus in the total blackness, there being no moon in the sky. I forgot the mirror up mode and disabling the electronic curtain so that I would lessen shutter slap. This would be a learning expedition and next time I will hopefully have it all dialed in again.

I could nitpick them to death, as usual. Thirty seconds exposure time was too long, some of the stars are blotchy. I dialed it down. The fish eye is soft on the edges. I was forced to just point it up blindly in the sky and see what I could capture.

But I will take them. It was fun, the air was clean, silence was total. Milky Way seemed creamier than usual. Better luck next time.

Could have been a lot worse...

And then it was.

I got lost leaving. It was pitch black and there were no visual references. I took every wrong trail I could find trying to get out. The petroglyph trail, the pictograph trail, the road that said no through trail. Could not locate the damn exit door.

I drove each possible route out and ended up in some really dicey situations, bridged, bottomed out, sliding. I could find a spot to hang out for morning light and retrace my steps but I was getting really frustrated.

And I realized that I had forgotten my blood pressure pills and I never miss the Losarten. Should keep some in the car for this kind of situation but I am evidently not smart enough to. Would hate to miss a night of my heart medication.

I wouldn't say panic set in but I was bumming. Never know when you are due for that "long night of the soul" but you surely know when it has arrived.

It was at this moment that my pandora offline station decided to come back on and I heard Jerry Garcia's dulcet ode, Comes a time. "Comes a time when the blind man takes your hand and says don't you see..."

I was having the bad trip I had come for and I wasn't even tripping, not even a joint in the car.

The desert has always been the place where I have confronted my innermost demons and stared my soul in the face. The Pinyon flats near death experience. Meeting St. Luke in Aguanga and he writing me a message in the sky in fiery letters, a message that I apparently promptly forgot. This is after I had the long commune with the coiled rattlesnake. It is a wonder what those purple dragons allowed to come out of the box?

What can I tell you? I eventually found a way out of my sandy morass. Thank the lord although I was never in any real danger. But I was tired and still had a couple hours drive back. Accidentally slid across San Felipe road once. If a cop had seen it I would have been drunk tested for sure but it was pure exhaustion. 

Finally made it home near midnight.

Will I do it again? Alone? You bet I will. You have to hit me over the head a couple times before I smarten up and get the message.

Hopefully next time I won't get lost.

Enjoy the pictures. I had to work for them.

I went to Ace this morning and returned the flashlight. A cheap four buck LED model that I found in the checkout line. From China. It only worked occasionally, if you shook it.