First Bro Backpack (Long Overdue)

       Two weeks ago, I (Mitchel) was sitting in my college library, immersed in sorrow, on the brink of irreversible despair. I was finishing the final edits on my senior thesis for my Bachelor's in English--a process which I can only compare to thrusting a rusted kitchen knife into one's own abdomen. As I stared sadly at the flashing cursor on Microsoft Word, I decided it was time to go backpacking. With childlike fervor, I downloaded Google Earth, read some backpackers' blogs, called Josh W., and mapped out a three-day, thirty-five mile backpacking trip (rather than typing my thesis).

       After finishing my finals and papers; walking across a stage; and partying a little with the gang, I finished college by the grace of God. Going backpacking was the next logical step for me. College had been a strange, unhealthy of exchange of money and time for a pretty piece of paper which tells attractive women and possible employers that I am an "educated" person. It was often hours of arduous work without any understanding of its purpose; it was creating ideas without joy in creating; it was submitting to the will of a system for payment in "future prospects". In contrast, backpacking is a vibrant, real experience. It's simple and authentic. It's just living; getting lost in the rough, beautiful, natural world which persists despite our attempts to subdue and control it. God's hand can be seen a bit more clearly for us. Anyways, the trip--

      

Josh W., Billy, Marc, and Sanam answered the Facebook call and met me after work on Friday, May 20. After a few hours of prepping and packing, we set off for Malibu. We arrived at the Ray Miller Trailhead in Point Mugu State Park around 7 pm (about two hours later than planned). Ahead of us was a 6.8 mi hike over Mugu Peak to the La Jolla Canyon walk-in camp. Almost needless to say, we hit darkness and fatigue at  mile 4 at the top of Mugu Peak (1266') and decided to call it a day. We set up camp and cooked up a classy meal of steak orzo and baked beans. We had a couple drinks; looked at the stars; and knocked-out in Josh's three-man tent. 

At Mugu Peak

       I woke up to the sound of condensation dripping from our tent onto Billy's sleeping bag. We were immersed in heavy marine layer and the wind was blowing hard. The other bros had abandoned the cramped tent and were sleeping outside with their mummy bags over their faces. After some oatmeal and salami, we set out down the Valley Loop Trail for the 15-mile trek to Sandstone Peak.

     The three miles to the walk-in camp was a beautiful trail through La Jolla Valley. At the camp, we planned to fill our water bottles and do some dishes. To our dismay, however, the water spigots had been shut off in the camp. Some helpful young-bro-scouts let us know that there was a lake a few-hundred yards from where we were. At the lake, Josh and I were pumping water when my MSR pump lost pressure in its chamber. We took the thing apart several times and cleaned all the components according to manual's direction.  Thoroughly frustrated, we all took a timeout to eat our summer sausage, raw ramen, and tortillas. 

 

      After nearly two hours messing with our pump, we got the thing to exchange pressure again by sealing the filter cartridge loosely. We filled our bottles and took off. With the delay, few water sources, and our unreliable pump, we knew it would be unwise to take the long, difficult venture to Sandstone Peak (3111'). Instead, we decided to take the Overlook Trail another four miles to Sycamore Canyon Beach where we could get more water and a sure camp spot.

From Overlook Trail

     At the beach, we ditched our bags and clothes and took a short nap on the sand. With our abundance of water, we feasted on mashed potatoes, baked beans, rice, steak, and the rest of our summer sausage. Josh got to work building a fire from driftwood and grasses without much success.
     We looked longingly at the women at the adjacent fire pit who were cooking marshmellows over a roaring fire. We lusted over the fire's warmth and beauty. By the blessing of Providence, the women began to leave the camp. Josh ran over and asked if we could have their fire. The altruistic women obliged and offered us two bags of jumbo marshmellows, two bags of graham crackers, and a giant box of Hershey's chocolate. We accepted.

               

     We chilled on that beach for a few hours, enjoying the fire's warmth, the sound of the waves, and the sand beneath our feet. We snuck into the Sycamore Canyon campsites after being advised to leave the beach by a ranger-dude. At the camp, we decided to sleep under the stars. And there, beneath the seemingly-endless expanse of God's creation, we talked, we remembered, we thought. We were learning something no book or college instructor could teach. Even now, it is difficult to give it a name. "Be still and know that I am God". 

     The next day, we rose early, packed quickly, and booked-it over to the beach to avoid a fine by the Forestry Service. We feasted once more and finished the last of our salami and marshmellows. Marc had been bitten by a bug that night and his swollen face covered in sticky marshmellow residue was almost too much to handle.

     We packed our stuff and we went exploring on the rocks to the South of the beach. The ocean was beautiful. The dark water relentlessly pounded against the rocks on which we stood. We just watched. It was a great place to end the trip.

     Our 35 mi trek had been shortened to a 10 mi loop. Stuff broke; we drank green water; we forgot a tent pole; I fell in a lake; we didn't bring enough water; we didn't bring enough fuel; we brought too much beer. But, all that being said, the trip was perfect. Thanks to my Bros, our God, and the beautiful world we get to enjoy.