So about 8 years ago my buddy Sean came up with the grand idea of going to Death Valley for a little weekend vacation. I quickly agreed as I enjoy an outdoor adventure from time to time. So I headed off with him, some other jiu jitsu buddies and three kids around 12.
We got to our campsite in the late afternoon when things were starting to cool down. There was a quick bout of “snipe hunting” that night where we convinced the 3 boys that:
A) Snipes exist
and
B) you can catch them and knock them out by swiping them with a bag then swinging them overhead.
One of the kids got so enthusiastic he even set up a trap with a Snickers bar as bait before he went to sleep. For those of you who haven’t fooled kids with this time-honored tradition, I highly recommend it. I could barely stop laughing the whole time and almost blew the whole story.
The night ended up around the campfire with the adults drinking beer and talking while the kids kept on the lookout for more snipes before they fell asleep.
The next day was dune hiking. Armed with a powerful breakfast of an ice cream sandwich and a cup of black coffee, I was ready to conquer the desert!
We gathered the crew together and drove out in my buddy Dr Rob’s SUV. He led the way as we stared walking out to the vast dunes of the Death Valley desert.
At first it wasn’t too hot. We brought a few liters of water as almost an afterthought as I first figured we’d hike up a dune or two then call it a day. But Rob had different ideas as he started leading us further into the sea of dunes.
I had jokingly pointed to the farthest and highest dune at one point saying we should hike up that one. And at some point I realized Rob might be taking me up on this.
Then I got an impulse.
Now sometimes I just get these compulsions to do things. Usually they involve something physically painful that normal rational people would say, “Why would you want to do that? You’re an idiot.” Somehow hearing this feels me with glee and makes me want to do the “it” even more.
So I pointed to that farthest, highest slope, said “let’s climb that one!” and started racing off. The rest of the group, being rational, sensible people merely shook their heads and kept walking at a normal pace. I kept running up one dune and down the next.
I finally got to the bottom of the big dune and decided I would sprint up it and have a glorious “Rocky” moment at the top.
I got about half way up then all of the sudden, the lack of water, 118 degree temperature and the fact that sprinting up a nearly vertical incline of sand is stupid hit me all at once.
I tried to tough it out but the thought of Rob and Sean explaining to my parents how I died of heat exhaustion while trying to show off in front of a group of 12 year olds just didn’t seem worth it. So I hobbled and crawled the rest of the way up.
The view was awesome. It was worth it. There was an ocean of dunes as far as the eye could see.
The rest of them made it to the top and we all took in the view for a few moments. It was really starting to get hot now. As I strained my eyes in the distance I could barely make out Rob’s car. I caught Sean looking at it too and I think we realized the same thing at the same time:
that car was far away…really far. And we had to walk all the way back through the scorching sun with less than a liter of water between all of us
Rob didn’t seem to mind as he handed his 12-year-old son his keys and wallet then dived down the dune rolling over and over in the blazing hot sand. Sean and the others shrugged and we all started heading back down.
Again, I don’t know if it’s just a sad need to show off or the fact that I just enjoy such things but I started running up and down the dunes again having a good ol’ time. I looked back and noticed,
Mike, one of the 12 year olds, seemed to be staggering.
I yelled out that he was being wimpy and losing a race to an old man and he just mumbled something about “passing out”.
I wanted to ignore him but thought the only thing worse than Sean and Rob talking telling my parents how I died, is me having to tell Mike’s parents that I accidentally let him die of heat exhaustion by challenging him to a race when he was about to fall over.
So I did the only rational thing. I ran back to him, squatted down and had him climb on my back.
Now Mike was probably only 110 lbs or so which may not seem like a lot but those pounds start to add up when your carrying them up and down sand dunes in what’s rapidly approaching 118 degrees.
Of course he wasn’t making it any easier as he kept saying he was going to pass out and we had to make it back to the car.
So I started running, up and down, dune after dune. It seemed like Rob’s car was getting further and further away with each step. Mike continued to complain. I was really starting to worry and realized that this is how idiots die in the desert…because of people like me!
I figured I should try and keep him calm and make him laugh.
So I started to sing. Brittany Spears.
Why? I really have no idea, that’s just what popped in my head as at that point, I was starting to feel woozy too.
Apparently either my incredible vocal abilities or my meshing together of all the song lyrics of hers I knew into sometime of inane mashup worked because Mike started to laugh and I sighed in relief as I knew he was going to be alright.
We got back to the car and I got Mike some water. The others slowly trickled in, shaking their heads and laughing at me. It probably looked ridiculous and really was. But every time I see that picture, I think of that story.
I ran into Mike a few years later when he was close to 16. He was already taller than me and probably out weighed me. So next time he’s carrying me! But I’ll still do the singing.
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