This story really begins several years ago on one of our Death Valley Hiker Association excursions to Dry Bone Canyon.  In fact, it was the last hike that Ol Creosote participated in with the group. 

Late one evening as we sat around swapping tales of hikes past and future we noticed two small light beams coming down the alluvial fan miles away.  We watched the two beams come into view and then disappear.  Were they turning off the lights to save their batteries?  Were they taking a break?  After several minutes of blacked-out terrain they mysteriously reappeared.  This quickly became the new topic of our campsite.  Who were these night bandits?  Where were they headed?  Why at night? And, why did they keep turning off their headlamps?  After watching this adventure unfold before our eyes we finally figured out that they weren't turning their lights off, but dropping down into the washes that crossed their paths.  After an hour they approached our head lamp beams.
 
What a surprise to see one of the night visitors wearing a Death Valley Hiker Association tee shirt.  Grubstake recognized this hiker and struck up a conversation as I checked them both out from the shadows.   Their packs were light, but covered with climbing rope and the usual paraphernalia of a climber.  They mentioned that they'd been up in Dry Bone canyon checking the walls and climbing the drywalls.  I must admit, the climbing didn't interest me, but the night hike did.  We listened as their story unfolded. Our questions were followed by short answers and then they were off again into the darkness. 

Later, that night as I tossed and turned in my sleeping bag those two disappearing headlamps in the distance lit up once again in my mind's eye.  It wasn't the fact that they'd stumbled onto our camp, or the talk of climbing up canyon walls, but the black traverse of the desert terrain at night that intrigued me.

To leap forward in time, eight years later, and hundreds of miles of dusty trails under my boots, Grubstake, Cactus Pete, Seldom Seen and I hit the Desert Trail just north of the Coxcoomb Mountains.  This was our first day out into the desert with fully ladened packs.  We were looking forward to hiking sections I, J, and K of the Desert Trail.  What a treat to be on the trail with friends, partly cloudy skies, and a crisp breeze blowing into our faces.  What a change from the six foot high snowbanks, ice covered roads, and no visible ground at Lake Tahoe. 
                   
 Well back to the trail...  The first day was exhilarating, with green tinted hillsides, wildflowers underfoot and numerous desert tortoise shells to examine and photograph.  How gratifying to be alive and back on the trail!   The next day was an easy section going into the Calumets.  Time to let my footsteps fall and put my mind at easy.  No work tomorrow or for that matter the next several days.  Only thoughts of... will it be sunny, hope that wind dies down, wonder if my wife got the snowblower started, hope she's OK.  The miles drift by. The section after the Calumets seems like an easy cruise to the cache vehicle.  Thoughts of trying a night hike begin to appear.  Perhaps, this is the perfect situation with the trail heading due north, no clouds, no moon, and the Northstar visible.  Piece of cake!  I catch up with Seldom Seen and tell him of my thoughts.  Later at our campsite I share my plan with Gubstake and Cactus Pete as they set up their sleeping spots.  I pull my stove and fuel out of the pack and make a strong cup of coffee and leave the sleeping gear in the pack.  My adrenaline is flowing as I plan the ten mile cross country night hike to the cache vehicle on Old Route 66.  Grubstake helps by lining the compass up and confirming that the vehicle is due north.  No takers for the evening hike so I say my goodbyes and head over the low saddle to the north.

I set out with a caffeine boost, adrenaline high and just enough light to stumble down the dim non trail toward the low mountains.  I know I must reach the opening of the mountains before total darkness sets in.  Distance in the desert is hard to judge and the space on the horizon quickly disappears as nightfall closes in and the blackness surrounds me.  
The darkness seems to swallow me whole.  Looking to the sky reminds me of home and all the stars in their crystal clear setting.  But this is the desert, no background light to dim the display.  The Milkyway flows across the night sky from northwest to southeast.  Where's the Big Dipper?  The Little Dipper is off the Big Dippers cup but with a moonless sky and all the stars, it's confusing.  Don't panic it's there!   All you have to do is find it.  Let's just let it go at this point and focus on the BNSF railroad tracks that are out there five or six miles away .  Let's see, are those lights off in the distance?  Where are they located?  Oh my gosh, there's a bright light coming down the hill from the east.  It must be a train.  Oops, watch out for those ravines and drop offs!  Man that had ankle sprain written all over it.  I really need to watch my step and concentrate on what's in front of me.  I think this is the promontory point that I need to go around.  Just a little farther and then I can turn true north.  What's this, it looks like an old jeep trail and it's headed in the right direction, I'll just cruise it for awhile.  Time sure flies when your having fun!  Now let me focus on those lights.   There's a bright red light, it could be the railroad crossing at Cadiz.  However, Cactus Pete said that the sign on the closed Road Runner Retreat Restaurant had a red neon light.  Ahhh, too many questions and not enough answers....  No, that has to be the railroad signal.  Let's see, to the north of the railroad is where we parked Grubstakes' jeep last year.  Yellow dim lights in the distance and a big glow on the horizon from the west must be the lights from Twenty Nine Palms.   It sure isn't Amboy, nobodys home there.  Man it's really getting dark or are the batteries in the headlamp getting weak?  It must be the batteries!  Wait a minute if I take the batteries out how do I see to change them.  Shit where did the jeep road go?  It was here a minute ago and I was enjoying it.  Ok, here's the plan; I find my cookstove and cannister, make a cup of coffee, change the batteries in the headlamp, and take a break.  Oh, sweet success. 

The batteries make all the difference in the world, maybe too much.  Coffee hits the spot and it's time to go.  More light to see by, but what's that off to my right?  A small coyote, a green tortoise, what is it?  No, just another bush.  Now wait a minute there's absolutely nothing out here breathing except me, get it through your head.  I  keep reaching up to adjust my glasses, problem is, I don't wear glasses.  The tunnel vision of the headlamp has set in.  Off in the distance I see two trains approaching from far away one from the west and one coming downhill from the east.  Oh well, there's a side track at Cadiz one of them will pull off, but wait a minute, there's already a train pulled over.  It seems like they're getting close, am I seeing this or is it a delusion.  Resigned to the fact that there's nothing I can do, I stop out in the middle of nowhere and watch the two trains approach each other head-on.  As I watch in total disbelief they pass each other full throttle with horns blaring into the night. I can see the wheels in the reflected light and no sparks flying, no derailment, no crushing metal, it is a miracle out in the middle of nowhere.  Finally, realizing the disaster was diverted or never happened at all the clatter and clamor of the two trains drifted off into the night.  With all the noise gone the only thing noticeable was my heart pounding in my chest. 

Finally, the Northstar appears.  With dim lights in the distance, the tracks ahead of me, and the faint glow from Twenty Nine Palms my path is clear. I place the Northstar in front of my left shoulder and go for it, hiking toward the railroad tracks that I know are out there somewhere.  I pass a million creosote bushes, and those little dark green plants that kept making my head turn to the right or left.  Jesus, it's just another plant!   Finally, a rise in the desert floor must be the tracks, but what are those gray skeletons, are they leafless trees?  As they are illuminated out of the darkness I see a solid row of  trees lining the tracks all silvery gray in the headlamp. Just to the west is a break in the tree line.  No wire, that's a good sign, I stumble up and over two tracks.  Another  gray wall of trees on the other side with no easy opening.  What are these trees?  They're not tamarisk, not smoke trees, too tall, how did they get here?  Who waters them?  Very strange, the unanwsered questions in the middle of the night.  

As soon as the tracks are behind me I realize that Route 66 can not be too far ahead.  But where is the cache vehicle?  My 92 white Ford van is somewhere out in front of me.  Left or right, I sure don't know.  Finally, I pick out lights on my right which must be the migrant workers center.  But what is that bright blue light, it's intense.  Must be the restaurant lights from the four R's.  I  pick a point somewhere between two lights, red, blue, yellow, who cares and I go for it. I see bottles on the desert floor and a tire that's old and cracked by the unrelenting sun.  A tin can, an old oil can, a rusted steel beer can is visible.  The next image reflected from my headlamp is a  wooden power pole.   A truly amazing image, as I stumble up an incline onto pavement.  Off to the right I see a single light from the Chambliss intersection.  To the left, very few lights and maybe that old 92, beat up beautiful white Ford van.  The spirit said go west young man and I headed in that direction.  After a quarter of a mile my headlamp picked up a glimmer of two red tail lights in the distance.  Eureka!!!  Who else would be parked out in the middle of nowhere between Amboy and Essex?  I reached my goal five hours after trekking though the moonless night.  This is the end of my story.  However, if you're out in the middle of nowhere with a night hike in your dreams, go ahead and do it, for life is made of memories.         Until we meet again.   Happy Trails thru Life,