Flashback: The Piedra Blanca Idiots

 12/22/19

I remember the cold. It wasn't no Montana in-the-middle-of winter-arctic-blast-negative-forty-degree windchill-freeze-your-face-off cold. But it was cold for me. I'm a Southern California boy. I do not know real cold. It was likely in the upper forties. And it was raining. The rain made it feel colder. 

We were all gonna go on a hike. It was five years ago, December 22, 2019. I do not know why we were going on this hike. I do not recall the conversations that led up to it. I do not know the reasoning. I do not know why so many of us decided to go. But we were going. It was happening. 

The plan was to go on a simple walk to the Piedra Blanca rock formations in the Sespe Wilderness. It's like a three-mile roundtrip hike. Nothin' too hard at all. I suppose we figured it would be an easy day. Just a nice way to enjoy this interesting weather in the woods. It's sunny most of the time in Southern California. This rain was the main entertainment of the year.

We all piled into Daniel's van on this rainy afternoon. I was the first one to be picked up. Got gas at the Shell station in Oak View. The rain came down in a steady drizzle, the sky gray, the clouds growing darker. I was wearing tight blue khaki pants and a green silk shirt. Daniel complemented the fit. I gained some respect that day. 

Once everyone else was picked up we drove to the trailer park near the entrance to the wild part of the 33. We were waiting on Juergen. He was part of the group. We pulled up in front of his parent's place. He came out, all decked out in rain gear. There was some discussion. A quiet commotion. He went back and forth, going from the van to his abode. He ended up bailing. His Ma said that it wasn't a good idea. Totally valid point. He seemed a little disappointed, but we parted ways with no hard feelings. Surely there would be another time in more agreeable weather. Besides, the joke was on us. We were the idiots. But sometimes it's good to be an idiot every once in a while. 

The final group now consisted of me, Daniel, Ry, Benny, Liam, and Nick. Six boys. None all too prepared (except Nick) for the what was to come. We drove up the 33, winding up the curves, noticing the temperature drop the higher we climbed into the mountains. The rain remained steady. It wasn't coming down hard or anything like that. More like a steady mist. The clouds had grown a little lighter. Less heavy. They were fluffy on the bottom, moving and churning in the sky like a huge mass of lumpy mashed potatoes. There was no indication that it would let up. But there also wasn't any indication that it would get worse. But what did I know. I wasn't no meteorologist. We drove on, not concerned about the rain.  

We pulled into the parking lot. I don't remember anyone else being there. We poured out of the van, donning the meager rain gear that we brought. I think I brought a cheap poncho or something like that. Maybe I lent a jacket to somebody. I don't recall. All I know is that the only person with sufficient rain gear was Nick. He had a nice blue rain jacket and these slick black rain pants. He was plenty warm underneath, wearing all the necessary layers. In his pack were all the tools for survival: food, extra layers, matches—stuff like that. He was prepared. Everyone else was not.

It was much colder at the trailhead. Low forties. Maybe even upper thirties. And the rain made everything seem all the colder. So, with hands clenched and jaws chattering, we shivered our way down the trail, trying to get the blood pumping. We crossed Lions creek, which was flowing at a gentle pace, seemingly unaffected by the rainfall. Then we crossed it again, a little farther downstream. And then we crossed the Sespe. It was about knee deep. The water was a dark greenish gray, ice cold, chilling us to the bone. Crossing a river in the rain is a very stupid thing to do. The water wasn't murky or anything, but if the rain kept up, well, then it might become a problem. But we were not concerned with such a problem. We were idiots. And so we pressed on, bracing the cold, our conversations occurring in short bursts. 

We made it to the formations in short time. By that point we were all warmed up and soaked through. The condensation from our body heat moistened the inside of whatever rain protection we had, soaking us both inside and out. But we were no longer cold. And, to our surprise, the rain had kinda stopped. So, very stupidly, we gathered all our warm clothing and put them in a pile under some bushes in this random spot. We had found this spot after exploring around for a little bit, jumping up and down the rocks, climbing up some of the features, noticing the precariousness of wet sandstone. This bush that was housing our jackets sat well off the beaten path. It wasn't anywhere near the trail. And there were several other bushes that looked just like it. I made a mental note of it, but I had a suspicious feeling that we wouldn't be able to find them later. 

Nick would not have this problem, however. He kept all his stuff on his person—a very wise move on his part. After some critical thinking, Ry and Benny decided to keep their rain jackets, Liam opting to keep is regular jacket for warmth. Daniel and I kept nothing, deciding to go about the exploration of the area in our soaking wet shirts. After placing our belongings under that damned bush, we ran around and climbed every formation we could see. We were warm now, but our hands and faces and arms were growing pale and pink. I mentioned that we should climb what I dub "The Elephant's Head," one of the taller formations of the place. We set our sights on it, made our way towards it, and started the climb. 

We went at it from the east. It was shorter that way, and a whole lot less brushy. But the eastern route required a little bit of scrambling. We had some issues reaching the top. Bad traction from bad footwear was the cause of most of this, and the slick sandstone wasn't helping much either. But somehow or other, all six of us made it to the high point. 

The rain had completely stopped. We took in the views, admiring the scenery around us. All of the surrounding mountains were doused in a thick blanket of misty clouds. Couldn't see Chief Peak. Couldn't see Thorn Point. All I knew was that it was for sure snowing at both of these locations. Every now and then the base of the cloud cover would lift and we'd make out a dusting of snow on the sides of the mountains. And just standing there, soaked to the bone, no longer moving, no longer generating heat, we realized how cold it really was. 

We didn't stay very long at the high point. We took some pictures, posed, basked in the glory of our accomplishment, and then got going. Had to keep moving. Had to keep the blood pumping. So far, the day had been a success. We'd done everything that we needed to do. Explored every nook and cranny that we deemed worthy of exploration. Should've turned around, found our jackets, and gotten the hell out of there. But we didn't do that. There was one more formation that we hadn't climbed yet, and that was the biggest of them all, the one I dubbed "Jabba's House." I made the stupid decision to go for it. Nobody made a protest. Besides, we'd only been goofin' around for an hour or so. Had to make the most of the afternoon. And so, we pressed on. 

We cut across a ridge to get to Jabba's House. This was slow, tedious, sketchy work. I had never been that way. And I don't think I'll ever go that way again. There was a lot of down climbing into brush and then climbing back out of it, some of it requiring class 5 moves. The rock was slick. The brush, soaking wet. And the rain had started up again. A light mist, barely perceptible. But it never stopped, ever so slowly picking up in intensity as the minutes ticked by.  

This traverse from the Elephant's Head pushed some of our group out of their comfort zone. And by some of our group I mean Benny. He had never done anything like this before. Actually, none of us had ever done anything like this before. But he hadn't so much as walked out in the woods. Sure he'd gone hiking before, but nothing as extreme as this. Hadn't done no climbing whatsoever. He was untested. Green. And this traverse was definitely pushing his limits. 

I remember getting down this particularly sketchy section. Then came Daniel. He jumped off from the top, landing in the soft dirt. Benny saw him do this and was perplexed, a look of fear glazing his eyes. I could read his mind: "Do I really have to do this?" Yes Benny, unfortunately you do have to do this. He made it down, very carefully, very slowly. Ry started voicing remonstrances. Liam locked in, keeping the suffering within the confines of his mind. 

There were a few spots where we had to help Benny out. Push him up a wall. Provide him footholds with our hands and shoulders. Watching this gave me a brief wave of foreboding anxiety. But I suppressed it and ignored it, trying to focus my attention on finding the path of least resistance. 

Benny, smiling through the pain

We were steaming. Literally. The traverse was so arduous and the temperature so cold that it was possible to view steam coming off our shoulders and heads. As we were waiting for parts of the group to catch up, just standing there, I'd notice the steam emanating outwards from our bodies. It was a strange sight to behold. We were glazed in a thick film of moisture, completely soaked to the bone, steam rising off our shivering bodies. Whatever electronics we had would surely be damaged. I would know. My phone is still messed up to this day. 

Eventually, we made it past the sketchy ridge, entering the worst of the brush. I didn't really have any idea where to go. Now that we were past the ridge, I was basing the route off of a trek that me and my mom and my sister did a whole year prior. I knew that there was going to be brush in this section. Though me, my mom, and sister didn't traverse the ridge, we still had to contend with this brush. We had gone up a different way, but it led to the same point. 

At a crossroads, the rain still steady, the weather not getting any warmer, I searched for a brush tunnel, found one, and took it. We ducked and bashed and broke our way through the soaking wet chaparral, weaving our way underneath and through manzanita and chamise. Finally, by some miracle, we made it out of the brush and dirt and back onto exposed, solid sandstone. We were close to the high point. Our efforts had not been in vain.

The brush petered out, and soon we were in an area of which I found familiar. We had made it. We were in the clear. White sandstone stretched out far and wide in front of our eyes. Jabba's House is a truly gargantuan formation. The top of it looks like the regular part of Piedra Blanca down below, like what it looks like as soon as you enter the place. It's that big. We scurried our weary legs up slick sandstone to get to the high point of the formation. We were gifted with the same views that we'd seen earlier that afternoon while situated atop the Elephant's Head. But the clouds were darker now. And the rain had noticeably picked up in intensity. But we didn't care. We had made it, after all that, and we were damn well gonna enjoy ourselves. 

High point of "Jabba's House"

I scurried down from the high point and made my way over to the other end of the formation. The others did not follow. I took off all my clothes except my underwear. I immersed myself in the rain, my body turning pink from the cold. I ran around like some mad freak, hopping up and down the rocks, skirting around the cliffs, weaving in and out of the small canyons. I even mooned my friends at one point. Heard screams. Good screams. There's a video somewhere. That moon has been forever preserved on digital media. It was legendary. 

The dumbest one of all...

Whatever had somehow remained dry was now completely, 100% soaked. Every single fiber on my green silk shirt and blue khaki pants was swollen, waterlogged, dripping. And cold. Putting them back on sent shivers running down my entire body. The cold was beginning to become bothersome. And to add fury to the fire, the sun was going down. We hadn't noticed—partly since it had been cloudy all day, mostly because we weren't paying attention—that the horizon was growing darker. And the rain just kept on getting stronger and stronger and stronger.

It was time to go. We were cold. Except for Nick. Nick was not cold. He hadn't discarded anything under that bush. He was still running on full battery. He was relaxed, calm, enjoying the natural beauty of the area. We were shivering, pale, ready to get the hell out of there. We'd had our fun. It was time to get out of there.

Unfortunately, I couldn't remember where my mom, sister and I had climbed down when we'd done it the year prior. This was not good. We had to get down. I remember it not being too difficult. My mom had made it down just fine. So we searched a bit, trying to find the way off the damn thing. We sure as hell weren't gonna go back through the brush. That was out of the question. I knew there was an easier way. Just had to find it. 

Others in our group had taken off their layers, inspired by my brief act of partial nudity. Daniel stripped down into his underwear. Liam and I kept our pants on but remained shirtless, our chests pink and cold to the touch. The weather was slowly starting to sap our energy. Just moving around wasn't enough to keep us warm anymore. Coldness and wetness. That's a deadly combination right there. Any longer in that weather and we'd start developing mild hypothermia.

I found a spot and took it, weaving my way down the side of the formation. I was ahead of everybody else, scouting our route. Liam was next in line. Benny was taking his time. We scurried down a ways, the rain on our backs, and then I found a chimney. It was 4th class, maybe teetering to easy 5th. But there was water running down it. This chimney, which would be dry any other time of the year, was now a waterfall. I down climbed it, careful not to slip. It was sketchy, but doable. I got down and then looked up. Liam was at the top, giving me the same look Benny gave me earlier in the day on the ridge traverse. 

We didn't have to go down this way. But we were running out of daylight and the temperatures were getting colder by the second. I didn't feel like spending any more time looking around for an easier place to descend. I could see the canyon floor from my vantage point at the base of the chimney. We were close. We were almost out of Jabba's House. This descent would save us a bunch of time. 

Liam climbed down without issue. Then Ry. But Benny was having problems. We coaxed him, calmed him down, assured him that it was alright. But he wasn't having it. We had to talk him into doing it. And when he finally worked up the courage to down climb it, he sure took his time getting started. It took him a long time to get down that thing. We could do nothing but stand around and provide words of encouragement. But by just standing there we were freezin' our butts off. Liam and I started doing push-ups and jumping jacks to keep warm. My hands were starting to lose feeling. 

I helped Benny out near the base of the chimney, using my hands as footholds. He eventually got down, completely done for the day. He'd experienced way more than what he'd intentionally signed up for. And he wasn't done yet.

We were cliffed-out. I had noticed this pretty soon after descending the chimney, while Liam was making his way down. I didn't tell anyone. I figured it wasn't an issue. We'd find a way down. Didn't want to get anyone's nerves all worked up. "Oh yeah, by the way, we're cliffed-out and we can't climb back up that chimney so we're kinda screwed." Yeah, I wasn't gonna say that. 

The most obvious way down was a ramp. But about halfway down the ramp was an awkward section. The rock jutted out from the wall, in a bit of an overhang, and the ramp tilted at a terrifying degree, sloping downwards to the canyon floor. Even if it were dry it would be a sketchy move. The rain made it an absolute no-go. Long afterwards, on a return to this same spot, I'd noticed that people had carved steps into the rock at this section. They even put in a rope at one time. That would've made things a whole lot easier. But at the time of our conundrum, in that moment, the rock was slick, slanted, sketchy. No footholds, no rope. Just a slanted ramp with a 20ft drop. No thank you.

Henceforth, we had to find another way down. Daniel did some scouting. He climbed some 5th class terrain, making sure to take his time. It wasn't that far of a climb. The bottom was in sight. And he made it. By cracky, the dude made it. He had found a way down. Just as I was going over to inspect the route, I heard somebody scream "F YOU!!" at the top of their lungs. I turned around and saw that Liam had gone down the ramp. He had made it past the sketchy section. I do not know how he managed to do this without dying. Later on, he told me that he'd simply jumped across it. That still doesn't make sense to me. But somehow, someway, the man made it across. And those were the words he said when he made it.

His eyes were wild. They were full of pride and amazement and surprise, like he himself didn't expect to make it. It was a very stupid thing that he did. It was completely unnecessary. Had he slipped, he would've fallen a good 20ft. High likelihood of injury. That would've made the hike out a lot more interesting. But he made it, injury-free, and I told him to meet us at the bottom.

I climbed down Daniel's route. He was at the bottom, acting as a spotter. I did not need his spotting, but I appreciated him being there. I busted through some minor brush to meet up with Liam. We met in and alcove of tall manzanita. The brush forced us up against the wall of white sandstone. Water was pouring down from above. The whole formation was spouting new waterfalls left and right. We were beneath one, getting soaked and chilled to the bone. The water was rising at our feet. It was ankle deep. This made me nervous. I imagined the river would be flooding soon. We had to get out of there, ASAP.

I heard Daniel shout. Mutter obscenities. Apparently, Benny had abandoned the climb altogether and just jumped right onto Daniel. Kind of expected that to happen. Benny was at the end of his rope. I don't remember him talking much. He kind of shut down after the chimney/waterfall descent.

After everyone had made it off Jabba's House safely, we regrouped, got in a line, and trucked on out of there. We came to another crossroads. It's a spot I'll never forget. I remembered it from the year prior. My Mom, sister and I had taken a certain route, one that led us back to the main section of Piedra Blanca with very little difficulty. But I couldn't remember which way it was. Right? Or Left? Left would take us back up against the formation. Which meant more cliffs. More waterfalls. More slick rock. We didn't want no more of that. So I made the choice to go right. 

As it would turn out, going left would've saved us a whole lot of trouble. I had made a mistake. A critical navigational error. I realized this pretty soon after heading to the right. We had entered a drainage. A rocky, brush-choked drainage. This was the worst brush we had seen all day. And I had no idea where this drainage went. It curved right, leading us away from where we needed to go. That anxiety that I felt when we were cliffed-out was back in full force now. Hiding underneath was a mortal fear, a sensation that things could get ugly. This was the first, and for a while, the ONLY time I've ever felt like that while out in the woods. Then I climbed Cobblestone Mountain and felt that feeling all over again, and I hope I never have to feel it a third time. 

We battered our way through the brush, cold, wet, disconsolate. Ry was miserable. Liam was miserable. Benny was non-verbal. Daniel busted on through like a trooper, still in his underwear, his skin getting all torn up in the brush. Nick was doing just fine. To him this was just another walk in the woods. He had his jacket. Had his layers. And I bet he was feeling pretty satisfied with his decision to not leave them behind. He was the only one who wasn't pink and shivering. 

I tore ahead, ripping through the brush, trying to find a way out of the drainage. After what seemed like forever, I found a clearing and took it. Thankfully, this clearing took us back to where we needed to go. We splashed through puddles, breaking through the occasional patch of dense brush. I tore my shirt in a brush tunnel. That fresh, green, silk shirt. Tore a big ol' hole in it. And that hole is still there to this day. I leave it as a reminder to not do stupid things. 

After pokin' around in the bushes for a while, we finally found our jackets. I didn't put mine on—poncho, jacket or whatever it was. The thing stayed off. It was soaked through. Wouldn't do no good no how. We needed to get out of there, quick. And so we high-tailed it back to the van, jogging almost the entire way back. My hands were like ice. I could barely feel them. And I was shivering all over. Definitely had some mild hypothermia going on there. But I didn't care. We had to cross that river before it flooded. 

We got to the Sespe. It was a little murkier than when we first crossed, but not by much. Nothing too crazy. Didn't even feel cold. My legs were too numb. We crossed without issue, pushing on through the other two crossings which were nothing to write home about. I was just glad that it wasn't flooding. It was a major relief. 

We made it back to the parking lot, having survived our stupidity. The rain was coming down hard now, in big fat icy drops. It was dusk. The sky was a dark grey, growing darker by the moment. We all decided to strip into our underwear, discarding our wet clothes to the back of the van. I couldn't get my pants off. Couldn't get the button. Couldn't get the zipper. Couldn't feel my hands. They had lost all strength. Daniel graciously helped me with my pant complications. We piled into the van, turned the heater on full blast, and then zoomed on out of there, out of the mountains, back into civilization. 

There was a car parked along the side of the highway. Two people were out in the rain, looking under the car. Daniel thought they needed help. He got out, still in his underwear. They did not need help. Or maybe they didn't want our help. It would've been pretty goofy with all six of us out there in the rain, clad in nothing but our underwear, helping some poor strangers fix a flat or something. We drove on, leaving them to solve the issue on their own.

We drove straight to McDonald's. Ordered about twenty McChickens. The cashier gave us a funny look as we pulled through the drive-thru. We got our food and then parted ways for a moment. We were gonna meet at Liam's place later for a hot tub soak. I did the driving. I don't remember Daniel or Nick joining us. I believe they had other commitments. The remaining group organized at Liam's place, got in the hot tub, and stayed in there for hours, eating soggy McChickens in the rain. We mostly talked about what we just did, how crazy it was, how stupid it was. And then we all went home.

Benny was the last person I dropped off. Since it was just the two of us left, he confided to me that he was scared that day. Like really scared. Like it messed him up. He didn't have to tell me that. I saw it all in his eyes. Needless to say, he didn't go on another hike with us for a long time after that. Took him a while to get over it. 

And that's the story as I remember it happening. It's been five years since this happened and my memory of the specifics has faded considerably. I'm sure my version of the events differ from Ry's and Benny's and Liam's and Daniel's and Nick's versions, but the gist of it should be the same. Neither of us have ever done anything like this since and don't ever plan on doing anything like this again. It was a very stupid thing, but we learned lifelong valuable lessons from it, lessons that we would never have learned otherwise, lessons that we will never forget.