trip report — trail runs, slots, and sandtraps

don't call it a softlaunch

thirty-six hours before i was set to speak at a conference in los angeles, i found myself buried up to frame in the orogen dunes outside of coos bay. the circumstances, in hindsight, were classic hubris. on my way out of camp, i’d decided to go get some photos of my truck up on a viewpoint. no matter that the only other vehicles out there were purpose-built side-by-sides — my truck actually does pretty well in the sand. and it was doing fine that morning, until i put it in park and killed my momentum in the worst place possible.

after snapping my ego pics, i fired up the truck and attempted to reverse off the knoll only to feel my wheels start spinning. you have to be very careful when spinning tires in mud, snow, or sand because you need to spin a little bit to get out — but the more you spin, the deeper you dig. at this point, it’s usually better to just stop rather than risk digging too far down. but i thought i could wiggle out with my traction boards.

no dice. it quickly became clear that i was hi-centering on top of my photo perch. the more of the truck’s weight shifted from the wheels to the frame, the less hope i had of securing any traction to get unstuck. the wheels refused to grab my boards. even tiny brushes on the throttle sent them spinning, burning off the hi density plastic knobs that were supposed to provide tire purchase.

i tried throwing firewood under the wheels for additional traction. that failed, so i grabbed every recovery rope i had and strung them together to try and extend my winch line to a small dune tree about 50 yards to my 10 o’clock. thankfully a dune buggie came buzzing around the corner before i attempted this sketchy pull. i flagged down the two teenagers inside who radio’d their parents to bring in support. when the dads arrived in their side-by-sides, we dug out my rear axle and winched the truck back until i could get enough traction to roll forward off the knoll. the whole recovery took about three hours.

i made it to the conference. things went well, though the mood was sober. the game industry is not in a great place. layoffs, title cancellations, and studio closures have piled up since the post-pandemic correction. the anemic growth that has occurred has mostly gone to the big free-to-play titles like roblox and fortnite. rather than linger, i picked up isabel from the airport and we drove out to the mojave desert a day early.

all day in the desert, we did not see a single other person. our road ran over over sand and volcanic rock, weaving through joshua trees thicker than you’d find in their eponymous national park to the south. at times, the tire tracks marking our route along the mojave road would disappear entirely thanks to the windblown sand. route-finding was vibes (and onx).

vibes were especially good at our two stops. spooky slot canyon is cliffside wedge that sits on the western edge of the preserve just off of interstate 15. unlike the smooth navajo sandstone in escalante’s spooky slot, spooky canyon in mojave is more like a dark, winding trail with old fraying ropes to pull yourself over walls of concretized sand. it’s the kind of place that tugs you inwards — not in spite of the darkness, but because of it. we forgot our headlamps, and phone flashlights held between your teeth are only moderately effective when you need both hands to climb.

unlike the tangled old rope in spooky, the steel staircase leading down into the lava tubes further on in the preserve gives a stronger impression that you’re actually supposed to be there. the chamber actually feels more fit for people than most other spaces in the desert. it’s cooler than the ground above, well-ventilated, and even has a natural spotlight where the sunlight beams through a hole in the ceiling. this set the stage nicely for isabel to perform an impromptu rendition of the night queen’s aria from mozart’s magic flute. the structural damage the tunnel sustained as a result was, mercifully, minimal.

even though i’d done basically this same trip last year, it felt new to do it again with someone who’d never been. and even in familiar places, surprise was still abundant. like when we went to town for a swim at the ymca and then stumbled right into an outdoor performance of as you like it by the grassroots shakespear company at moab’s annual arts festival. or when we went trail running on bryce canyon’s fairyland loop having absolutely no idea what to expect. or finding the perfect gravel bike on marketplace for the perfect price and then taking it out on the perfect new bike day ride. or even the check engine light that came on at the end of the trip and would herald a full motor replacement two months later!

a full two months after that and my truck is still out of commission. recall failure, fortunately — and still under warranty, so ford spared me the $14k it would have otherwise cost to replace out of pocket. while a summer’s worth of camping plans may have been scuttled, i get the truck back next week and get to start planning our final adventure before i trade her in. the next one will probably be a five liter coyote regular cab, short bed. with a 122” wheelbase, 37” tires, and 450 horses, there won’t be much she can’t handle.

her driver, on the other hand? don’t hold your breath.