Page 27

Grant’s Journal

January 1

I started hiking along the desert divide, on the ridge of the Santa Rosa Mountains. I was more than a mile above sea level. I looked at my map: the trail runs parallel to East Canyon Creek. Some switchbacks, not bad. The first part was mostly in the sun and offered vistas to the west of Thomas Mountain, and Joshua Tree and Palm Springs to the east. Not much snow at the beginning on the open part of the trail. Windy up here. I like the wind.

I had to walk through four gates to get to the springs, like checkpoints in a video game, through an oak grove and a meadow. Yucca grows on the side of the mountain up here. The trail was well marked, didn’t even need my map and compass. Put them away. Saw some campers from the Pacific Crest Trail—I’ll do that someday, the whole PCT. I met a guy up here who said he’s been gone three weeks. He’s done it before and he’s scared of reentry. Once you live like this, he says, it’s hard to go back.

Cedar Springs is beautiful. I loved being around trees that can provide shelter. I thought I’d miss the house, my job. Nope, it’s the trees I miss the most. I found my ecosystem.

I touched the bark like a blind man. This, I decided, was my “power place.”

I closed my eyes, meditated, and formulated my intention. Then the big question. Cassie said to keep it simple, to ask for only one thing. She said to imagine that I was boring a hole into the center of the earth, and when I climbed out of it, I’d be met by a spirit animal or guide who would help me find the answer.

I asked my question about moving forward and felt the answer in my bones. I could have been in Cedar Springs five minutes or five hours.

Made pretty good time getting back. Everything was going according to plan. I had a great time and felt the satisfaction of having accomplished what I set out to do. I was busy thinking about the answer, about what I’d eat for lunch, congratulating myself for what I considered a successful outing. I thought about what I’d want to say to Kim. I came back to Morris Road and the Jeep… is nowhere. It’s gone.

GONE.

I thought maybe I’d come to the wrong place, but there was the dead crow I saw when I started my hike, looking even more dead. The spot where I’d parked was empty. There should be a German word for the disbelief you feel when you realize your car isn’t where you’d left it. It couldn’t be. Then again, who wouldn’t want to steal my magnificent Jeep?

I’ll bet the Ulysses S. is at least three hundred miles away by now. Kim manifested this. Now she’ll never have to complain about needing a ladder to climb up into the cab again. I guess it was fun while it lasted.

A wiser man might have walked the four miles to Highway 74 and tried to flag down a car and hitchhike back to Palm Springs, asked for help.

That’s when I started thinking… I’d just made my way to Cedar Springs. Wasn’t bad. The day was still young. I could go back, and instead of turning around, I could keep going and find the West Fork Trail, take it back to Indian Canyons. In about five hours I’d be back in time for dinner. I could pick up the conversation we’d had. Figure out what to do about the Jeep. Talk about the future now that I have clarity. I’m a different man, secure in what I now know.

Why not hike back? If people can live out here for weeks at a time, so can I. I have water, some protein bars. I saw a bunch of hikers in the morning. Less now. I’m bound to run into someone. I’ll ask them to call and let Kim know I’m okay or I know what she’ll think.

I’ll hike as far as I can before dark.

I can do this.

SHIFT HAPPENS is right.