Joshua Tree, Day 3: Nine Miles Back To Reality

We woke up early knowing exactly what was ahead—about nine miles back to the car, with the first 2.5 climbing straight up, and an even longer drive waiting for us on the other end. The promise of clean clothes, real food, and good coffee was enough motivation, so we made a quick decision in the tent: skip the coffee, pack up, and get moving. When I unzipped the tent, a chunk of ice fell straight onto me—clear evidence of just how cold it had gotten overnight. My sun hoodie, which never dried the day before, was frozen stiff like cardboard, and Anna’s shorts weren’t much better. While everything slowly thawed, we broke camp, grabbed a quick breakfast—an energy bar for her, a blueberry ProBar for me—and by 7:00am, we were on trail.

The day started immediately uphill. Not brutally steep, but steady and unrelenting. We found a rhythm and after about a mile dropped into a canyon where the trail seemed to disappear into the walls around us.

I warned Anna the next section wouldn’t be much fun, and sure enough, ahead were about seven steep, tight switchbacks with barely a foot of trail to work with, loose footing, and sticker bushes crowding both sides. There wasn’t much room for error, so we just kept grinding—step by step, stopping when needed, until we eventually climbed through it without issue.

From there, the terrain eased and we made good time, eventually cresting a ridge where we could see the town of Joshua Tree in the distance. Civilization creeping back in. After wandering along the ridge, we dropped down and crossed Covington Flats Road—the unofficial beginning of the end.

We took a short break, drank some water, and continued through a stretch of junipers and Joshua trees, birds chirping loudly as if announcing our exit. I knew this area well. One more climb, a turn around a corner, and we’d drop into the wash where we had started three days earlier. Sure enough, within about twenty minutes, we were back on familiar ground—and just like that, Anna saw her opportunity. She smiled, picked up the pace, and took off toward the car, leaving me to finish the last stretch on my own.

I didn’t mind. In fact, I slowed down. It gave me time to think about the past few days—what an incredible trip it had been.  Grateful is the best word to describe my feeling.  The past year has brought a lot of change and loss into my life, and I’m still navigating my way through it, but some things remain constant: my love for the backcountry, and more importantly, my two girls. They would move heaven and earth for me, and that’s not something I ever take lightly. It’s easy to get caught up in the noise of everyday life and start asking, “Why is this happening to me?” But out here, with a little distance and perspective, that question changes. The truth is, I’m the luckiest bastard on the planet.

I crested the final ridge and could see the campground where we started.

Not long after, I passed a man and woman hiking up the trail—the first people we had seen in over 50 hours. It felt almost strange, but in the best way. A few more turns, one last bend, and there it was—my Bronco. A few steps later, I was back on pavement. Done. Unscathed. Anna was already there. We high-fived, changed into clean clothes in the parking lot, and I cracked open two ice-cold Diet Pepsis I had stashed in the cooler—still cold, somehow. Another small victory.

We drove into Joshua Tree and made a stop at Joshua Tree Coffee Company, easily the best coffee around. We both loaded up. Anna wanted a breakfast burrito from Roadrunner Grab+Go across the street, and while it would’ve been faster to walk, neither of us had any interest in doing that, so I dropped her off. She came back with her burrito—and a few stickers, of course. I went in a  much healthier direction, and went with DEL FUCKIN TACO!  😂.  Perfection.  

And just like that, we were on the road, heading back toward Los Angeles and up over the Grapevine on Interstate 5. Eight hours later, I dropped Anna off, gave her a hug, and found myself alone again—car dusty, body tired, but completely full in all the ways that matter. The memories from the trip stayed with me, along with one clear realization: backpacking season in the Sierra is right around the corner, and I can’t wait to get back out there.