Anza Borrego Part V - Magellan Strikes Again!

The sun will come out, tomorrow…I wouldn’t bet my bottom dollar!

Amazingly, we awoke to a cloudless, azure blue sky. Seeing sun for the first time in ages, and knowing we had to move campsites later in the day, Analee and I broke out of camp faster than a freshly paid soldier on leave. Our first task of the morning was to revisit the Indian Hill / Dos Cabezas mine area now that we had more ideal conditions.

Clear Skies...Finally!

Again we turned up Mortero wash in the south end of the park with yours truly holding the GPS and Analee behind the wheel. Yes, Magellan sails again! Feeling confident that I had figured out that north does not necessarily mean “up”, I successfully led Analee and I to the Dos Cabezas mine (which, mind you, I did locate and input the coordinates from a USGS map). Turns out this mine was nothing more than the same “ite” we found the previous day in spoil piles located by the train depot, but now it was in a “not so accessible” vein format. Although this hike was a bust, it proved I could navigate to a final destination, supposedly…

From there, we shadowed the train tracks for about 4 miles until we found a trestle we could pass under on our way to Indian Hill. Now supremely confident in my navigation capabilities, we set out for the mysterious Shaman caves of Indian Hill. For reference, Indian Hill is the oldest site in the park that has traces of early human inhabitants. Indian Hill was a nomadic tribal home housing pictographs dating back as far as 3,000 BC. As you can imagine, I was very much looking forward to this day.

Eagerly, we began our 1-mile hike down a well-trodden wash with the GPS clutched firmly in my grip. After 10 minutes, Analee asked how much further and I said about 0.6 miles, which seemed right. 10 minutes later, it was still 0.6 miles away. 20 minutes later, it was still 0.6 miles away. Something wasn’t right. I was following the trail and the footprints, but we weren’t getting any closer, until Analee pointed out that Indian Hill was probably “a hill”, so in order to get there we would eventually have to go up. She was right, of course. Turns out I led us around Indian Hill in a canyon wash for about 2 miles. Magellan strikes again!

Cave at Indian Hill

We hiked up and out of the canyon with the GPS in Analee’s hands, yet we still couldn’t find Indian Hill. We roamed around the general vicinity for about an hour until I saw a Yoni (a Yoni is a fertility and birthing ceremonial/ritual carving designed to look like, well, you know) that I had seen on the internet (see above). From there we found a deep cave about 3 feet high beneath a gigantic boulder, thus we had finally stumbled upon Indian Hill (Note: The USGS quad map has Indian Hill sited incorrectly. The correct location is the hill due south of the noted hill).

Cool Lizard-Man Pictograph

Walking around the base of the hill we saw the pictograph cave about 20 feet up from the base. Words cannot describe the power of this cave. The cave was covered in pictographs such as a man, a handprint, the sun, a lizard and innumerable indiscernible drawings. This was obviously a cave of high importance. As I sat in this cave and looked out upon the great valley below us, I was overwhelmed with emotion. Like many places in Anza Borrego, it evokes strong memories of time with my Dad. I know he would like this place, and hopefully I can convince him to visit Anza Borrego once again, or if I’m lucky, I can one day take my (future) son there.

Indian Hill

Enough with the Oprah moment…Following Analee’s lead, we made a straight line (not a meandering arc like I would have lead us) back to our car. We next decided to revisit Piepkorn Canyon and pay our respects. This time we walked the last quarter of mile to his marker, instead of risking getting stuck on a rock (wise move). As we walked, we noticed that most of the rocks in the wash were “painted” by previous drivers trying to maneuver this trail, and scratching paint off their vehicle. Boy, was I glad we walked. We cleaned up Mr. Piepkorn’s marker by replacing the trinkets, and we left a sprig of lavender. I appreciated the reminder of how dangerous the desert can be regardless of one’s level of preparedness, and mind you, I’m no boy scout anymore.

Mark Piepkorn Memorial

Now that we were square with Karma again, we headed back to the campground, stopping along the way to admire the Carrizo Badlands Overlook. As we drove down Sweeny Pass (a steep, serpentine grade), I heard Analee say, “I’ve lost power…” as I watched her mash the brakes, which threw my heart into a panic, I reached over and engaged the parking brake, screeching the car to a halt (Nothing parties like a rental!). If looks could kill, I’d be deader than a doornail. Analee was none too pleased with my “assisting” her, as it turns out, she had only lost power, and the brakes worked just fine. Of course, the power had gone out because Analee had inadvertently put the car in reverse going downhill at 25 miles per hour!

Analee and the Treacherous Spot in Piepkorn Slot

Safely back at the campground, it was time to move camp again, since all the Father/Daughter sites were open. Originally, we were going to stay in the site 42 (the old Thornburg site), but as Analee noted, it was unleveled, unprotected and too huge for a tent. So, we moved to site 139 near our first site at the Moonlight Canyon trailhead. As we transferred sites, Analee carried our tent, still popped with stakes dangling to the laughter of some old crusty men. “That there is the funniest thing I’ve ever seen,” they hollered. They must have had boring lives.

Our New Campsite

While Analee was fending off the “Greatest Generation”, I was pilfering firewood from a massive pile left by the Father/Daughter group. As I loaded the car, I was treated to a nice story from a salty old man smoking Pall Malls in the rear of his truck camper. All I could see of him was his right hand holding a cigarette, since his face was shaded behind the window screen. His raspy voice told me of an old girlfriend of his in the 50s, it felt like a confessional, a voice from behind a screen. He lamented about how he had met this beautiful woman and invited her hiking in Joshua Tree. When she showed up for their date, she wore a skirt and sandals. “Jesus Christ, sandals, on a desert hike” he bellowed. The date didn’t go well he said, but one day, he saw a pair of hiking boots on sale, and he bought them for her. “I gave her the boots and they fit like a glove. Like Cinderella, you know?” he said. All I could do was nod and listen. For the next three years they dated, and by the time they parted, she was a more masterful hiker than he. Although I never saw his face, I could tell he missed her and that life long gone. I gave my thanks, wished him well, and headed back to my Analee for a warm night by the fire.

UP NEXT – Anza Borrego Part VI: We Should Have Brought the Camera