Joshua Tree
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Hot Rock has crossed many land borders in it's time, but getting into the States has been the worst of the lot. Our US Immigration officer is straight out of the mould. The operation to remove his sense of humour and politeness glands had clearly been a resounding success;
"Mam, if you have been processed please leave the building". Fi
left me to it as I handed over my passport.
"Sir, when was the last time you were in the US"? I don't cope well
with pressure, already I was nervous just being stood here.
"About 4 or 5 years ago I think".
"Are you sure about that"?
"Errmm, yes"
"Were you here in December?"
"No", I said emphatically. "Errm, actually yes". Shit!
I've blown it on the very first question!
The I.N.S. guy gives me a hard stare. If he'd worn glasses he'd be peering
at me right over the top of them. I offer an explanation,
"I flew to Santiago in Chile, but had to change at Atlanta. I don't consider
that coming to the States - I never even left the terminal building"!
That was all Mr. Immigration needed to treat me like shit for the duration.
I really believed I would be denied entry! So it was that Hot Rock was warmly
received into the U.S. of A. amidst a confusion of baggage and tiredness on
our way to Joshua Tree National Park. It had been hard work for everyone just
getting to the border, and the work was only half done.
We ran out of luck and contacts at the Mexican border town of Nogales where
we had hoped to be able to get the truck insured. No broker would have anything
to do with us.
So instead we drove west to Tijuana, deciding on route to adopt the brute force method of entry. Our priorities were to get the trip encamped and climbing at Josh as soon as possible. We parked in the first available lot and everyone set about packing to leave the truck. This was the last of BiRT anyone will see until south-east Asia, but there was no time for sentimentality. Fi and I left the tribe to it, and crossed into the States to pick up rental cars to ferry people to Josh. (Rental companies in Mexico apparently are unable to reserve vehicles from their shops across the border).
The Hot Rockers got themselves through the border in three separate groups - the worst way to do borders. Amazingly everyone got through with minimal hassle, and we met again in McDonalds. The I.N.S. must have had a shift changeover! State-side at last we packed the first loads into the Avis people-carriers (very suburban) and drove the 4 hours to Josh, turned around and repeated the route with a second load. Monkey road shotgun with me as we tried our best to keep each other awake.
My first sight of Josh was sheer beauty! We arrived in the small morning hours
in the desert landscape, an essentially flat plain, the horizon broken by
the silhouettes of tall Joshua Trees and islands of granite crags. So far
removed from any natural light source the heavens were sparkling with stars.
The bright moon threw an eerie blue light over everything. A last minute change
of plan saw me staying with the group, with not so much as a toothbrush, and
one vehicle to do the water run. The rough-camping here was in stark contrast
to our time in Mexico.
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We may have been in a National Park, but it is a wilderness. The sun rose with an immediate and inescapable heat that lasted until sunset. Our valuable water had to be collected every day - a 40 minute drive into town and back again. We also learnt of the problems posed by the wildlife. Chipmunks may seem cute, but here they possess a patience, cockiness and relentlessness I've never seen before. My tent still has the bite marks to prove it. The climbing, however, was superb - and it was a joy to get out the trad' racks again and place our own protection. The grades felt pretty stiff to us, but that was expected.
With the prospect of Yosemite looming people went crazy practising their aid skills up some of the classic crack lines, (notably Nick and Maria), taped jamming gloves protecting unseasoned skin. Here we met and shared beer with other climbers, in what was the start of a recurring trend. Jim fitted into the group quickly and in the style of an ancient master, passed on the secrets of night-time, torch-less caving up the inside of a close-by rock. The route led to a high perch looking over the whole of the Park - just stunning in the moonight. Monkey and I returned to scope out the route during daylight, but spent a lot of the time shutting our eyes because that's the only way we could recognise the moves and the right route!
Our mission was to find alternative transportation, to run the North America
section in the right style. From a starting point of knowing absolutely nothing
about the used-car market in the States we got to owning the two perfect vehicles,
Yogi and Bobo, before three days had elapsed. The Hot Rock world-wide fleet
was begun.
So we must say a big thank you to Cindy and Norm for their hospitality and help, without which we would have had unthinkable hassle sorting things out. I also learned that perhaps I've been rough-camping for too long and forgotten how to live indoors. In a rush to answer the phone out by the pool (the only place we got reception) I ran straight into the closed patio doors with a resounding smack, propelling myself several feet backwards and emptying my cup of tea over myself in the process.
Story by Uncle Duncan
