April 4-5, 2017
Photos on Google
Driving down a washboard gravel road in the black of night, I hoped that I’d find the Owl Canyon Campground soon. It felt like it took me forever. Outside the bustling (read: not-so-bustling) community of Boron, California, my driving progress screeched to a halt. I sat in traffic for over two hours due to a pretty gnarly car accident up ahead. With no alternate driving route and no way to get information with a brick of a cell phone, I embraced the standstill and used my sitting time to catch up on things. I wrote in my journal, read road maps, and even made a batch of car guacamole. Once past the accident it was a race against the sun to make it all the way to Owl Canyon. In Barstow, I pulled off the road to make a mental note of all the turns I thought I’d have to take. I had a few things jotted on post-it notes in my California road atlas. And that was it. Fortunately there were a few brown signs pointing me in the right direction.
I tumbled out of the car, made a very late dinner, and went right to sleep.
The next morning I woke up, but I felt like I was dreaming. I found myself in a surreal landscape. I was inside a desert canyon. Soft, pastel stripes colored the rock walls all around me. A handful of cars and RV’s dotted the mostly empty campground. The air was still and quiet. Holy crap, this place was amazing.
I ate a nice camp breakfast and then walked around the campground in my sweatpants, drinking coffee. I was surprised to see not one but THREE playgrounds located in the campground: one on each loop. This place was amazing! If I lived nearby I’d be here all the time!
With each twist and turn of the canyon came new colors, textures, flowers, and features. It was like squishing 20 different hikes into one. There were parts with sandy bottoms, rocky bottoms, narrow slots, wide washes, tall walls, short walls, caves, you name it. In some places the canyon opened up into a very wide amphitheater and then closed up again. The canyon started out like this:
Some places were strikingly orange.
Others were impossibly green.
I even got to enjoy this canyon all by myself. Well, I did have to share with numerous jets blasting overhead. Hiking near a military base has its downsides, I suppose.
In places the canyon erupted with wildflower blooms. This lacy phacelia was particularly striking, and I recognized it from the Antelope Valley reserve.
Occasionally I had a run-in with one of the natives. This guy had clearly had a run-in with something before we met…
The canyon eventually opened up into a broad valley with paths going every which way. I guess that was the 2-mile mark. Although ATVs were not allowed here, this place had been torn up by plenty of dirt bikes. It was disgusting. I was pretty angry seeing it all. After I’d just walked through that pristine paradise, it felt out of place to be somewhere with so much visible human impact. How do we cultivate respect for wild places in our society? There are plenty of places set aside that you can rip around on a bike. Why here? I turned back to face the canyon and spend my time admiring the natural beauty of the rocks, plants and sky. I could just sit and take it all in, since I was in no rush to get to my next stop. So I did. Just sat, and breathed.
On the way back, I kept my eyes peeled for lizards and plants that I’d missed on the way in. It’s funny how different a place can look when you’re seeing it from the other direction. I felt like I took a million pictures; everything was photo-worthy! What a treasure.