If you have 825,000 acres of desert to explore, you better pop out of bed at 5:30am and be on the trail by 6…according to my 4 year old, that is. Skull Rock couldn’t wait even one more hour to be climbed on. With 36 hours in Joshua Tree, we spent probably 35.5 of them rock hopping, bouldering, running, jumping, sliding, scrambling, playing tag, hiking, etc. It was an overnight with just the right amount of physical exertion that, when you finally lay down in your sleeping bag, your soul smiles and your body says thank you. The things that happened in Joshua Tree this weekend go so much deeper than what actually happened. But, for the record, I am floored by what this girl accomplished physically. With the best example being the only one where I didn’t tote my camera.
After a previous afternoon filled with a game we call rock monster, which involves a tag team/follow the leader effort of climbing to a high peak, pointing out another one from the top and then navigating to the next one…point it out, climb it, repeat. We’re standing at the base of an exhibit called Hall of Horrors, looking up at a highline being stretched across the span of the ‘hall’ from one large rock formation to the other, at least 100+ ft in the air. I’m explaining to her what’s about to happen and she puts her hand over my mouth, points to the top of the ginormous rock formation where they are securing one side and says, “That one.” Which is rock monster lingo for, ‘we’re going up there’.
Hall of Horrors from the parking lot. Like I said, I didn’t take my camera to the top. But, if you look close enough, you can see the line stretched across the valley. We were on the top of the rock pile on the right. Scale, as always with these types of things, is hard to understand. These are huge and high. Believe me.
She called it. We climbed it.
And it was sketchy. Scary-sketchy, actually. It took our previous day of bouldering to a new level. I’m gutsy when it comes to those kind of things, and definitely willing to push the envelope. I’m competent and capable and strong enough to climb carrying her, if need be. But this put, even me, on edge, with my thoughts ranging from, ‘this is so much fun’ to ‘this is not our day to die’. But we made it. And we sat at the top for 20 minutes while 2 young studs made the final rope checks and tightened up the highline. She was fascinated. She couldn’t stop talking to them. “Are you going to walk across that? Wow. I’m never going to do that,” she laughs. “Never say never,” one of them says. “You’re the first 4 year old I’ve seen up here, ever. So, there’s always time for something big.”
And he winked. And she smiled. A big smile. A prideful smile. One that hinted at something being built up inside of her. And in that same moment, built up inside of me. It was far less about watching some thrill seeker balance on a 2inch piece of fabric stretched taught across the desert sky (which, don’t get me wrong, was the gutsiest, most nerve wracking, awesome adventure thing I’ve seen with my own eyes) and far more about the desire and the process of getting there and the spark being fanned inside my little girl.
And it made us fly. Both of us.
And, I suppose the whole trip was a selfish plight, to begin with; rendered in my journal that night in big, bold, underlined capitals, “I needed this so badly.”
But, continuing on in that same entry, fueled by the days activities, the cold air, the warm fire, the sleeping child and maybe a little bourbon: “She did, DOES, too. To sit calmly and quietly by a twinkling fire; to gaze up at freaking amazing star studded skies; to raise my daughter on rock jumping and exploring and adventuring and eating burnt, skinless hotdogs by hand from a tin mug filled with ketchup. To jab ourselves on yucca and snag our skin on thorny bushes and split the seat of our pants sliding haphazardly down gigantic boulders. To fling ourselves over cracks. To watch her challenge herself and toughen up and go the distance and break her boxes apart…and laugh and run free and be silenced by the wonder and awe of her surroundings. If I could leave anything with her, I’d want it to be that. Get outside, Baby, get outside and just go with it. Things start to work themselves into the puzzle after that and you will know who you are capable of being…and who you are.”
