K.J.B.
The first time I visited Joshua Tree National Park or “Monument” (as it was called then) was on Christmas Day 1978, when I was sixteen years old. I was visiting my Dad in California for the holidays from New York, where I lived with my Mom. My parents had divorced when I was twelve. Danny, one of my best friends and Deadhead buddies had moved to California a year prior with his parents, so I had a good friend to hang out with during the time of my visits. Every time I came out to California he would hook me up with all the good things the State had to offer at that time in history. “Good things” that weren’t always available in New York like; the original Humboldt county sinsemilla, real Oaxacan spears, mushrooms, M.D.A. and good L.S.D. Whatever it was, he always made sure that he was well stocked for my visit, and always had some grand adventure planned.
This time the plan was to go rock climbing in Joshua Tree National Monument while tripping on several hits of “barrel” style L.S.D. Danny had obtained the “L” for the upcoming Grateful Dead concert at the Golden Hall in San Diego the following night and we “needed” to sample the batch before the show. Danny had assured me that Joshua Tree would be the perfect place to trip. Yes, this was going to be an adventure for sure!
We left Los Angeles at Five o’clock in the morning on Christmas Day and arrived at our destination for the first crack of the dawn. We took the L.S.D. one hour prior to arriving that way we would be coming on to the experience just upon arrival…. and it worked out perfectly! We entered with a nice building glow in our heads and in the sky, as the sun was beginning its rise right at that time. We lit a fat jay of X-mass sinsemilla and “tripped” our way up and through the orange haze of the sunrise onward into Hidden Valley campground and the heart of the Monument. The whole place was deserted. There was only one trailer in the entire Hidden Valley campground and us. Back at that time NO ONE knew about Joshua Tree except rock climbers (which were a rare breed then), “trippers” and the less frequented cross country travelers. We were a hybrid – Tripper rock climbers!
This wasn’t my first time taking L.S.D. and with no humility at that age I considered myself a veteran tripper, being that I had already taken at least a dozen trips at that time. So the drugs didn’t scare me, although I had never rock climbed. Danny had already climbed El Capitan a year prior and was a very good young climber. The idea of climbing rocks on L.S.D. seemed romantic before I was actually shown the route he wanted to ascend. It wasn’t that I was afraid of heights, or that I did not have the courage or the “balls” to go for it, it was just that it looked SO dam steep, and virtually impossible, especially on the L.S.D. ….but I had committed.
Danny had assured me that it wouldn’t be as hard as it looked and that I did not need to worry because he would be leading the climb. I watched him climb and he did NOT make it look easy, not by any means! The climb was called Dolphin and was rated a F-7 in the climbers guide (Mid.grade in the original J.T. rating system), but he later informed me that it was also an off-width climb, being a climb requiring non-standard physical maneuvers necessary for ascension. So I struggled and struggled, and thrashed and thrashed, and grunted and grunted, and finally with the much needed help of the adrenaline pumping through my veins, and the L.S.D. pumping through the synapses of my brain, I managed to make it through which seemed like an eternity of struggle and painful efforts, to the top of that godforsaken rock, on that Christmas day back in ’78.
Yup, we made it to the top alright, but the adventure wasn’t over yet. We began to descend, jumping and scampering our way down the cliff. In that process, while jumping over a small crevasse, I dropped something. Danny was hoping it wasn’t a piece of his precious climbing equipment. I assured him it wasn’t, though truthfully I had no idea what had fallen. When we reached the bottom I felt good. The concept of walking at ground level found a new meaning of comfort in my life. I felt a sense of accomplishment I had never felt before. I was feeling generally exhilarated and physically pumped, though I was still very high on acid. At that moment I looked down and noticed I had torn the whole back of my jeans out during my thrashed accent. I thought to myself; “Wow! I really tore my pants! Ah, no big deal!”…. And then…it hit me! My wallet had been in my back pocket – and it was no longer there! So that is what had fallen! Although I was only sixteen years old, I had brought ALL my money with me! I felt I had to invest in all those “good things” available in California. I had one hundred and twenty five dollars, which was a good chunk back in 1978, all of which had fallen down into some crevasse at the top of the rock. Bummer!
So we scrambled back up to the top of the rock, but to no avail could we retrieve my wallet. We were really much too high to deal with the procedure that would have been required to fish the bugger out. It had fallen at least twenty feet into a very narrow spot, which ended up being its fate, and also mine, on that Christmas day in 1978. Oh well!
It may have been my first time to Joshua Tree, it may have been my first time rock climbing and it was certainly an expensive experience, but here I am over thirty years and hundreds (maybe thousands??) of trips and climbs later, and there is where I have chosen to reside ….. in this place I’ve called home for quite almost 20 years now. I love Joshua Tree! It is one of my best old friends. We’ve got some real history together and we continue to have great trips together almost every year now. Yeah man… The Grateful Dead said: “What a long strange trip it’s been!”…. And I’ll say: What a long strange trip it is!