Keith and I started driving to Anza-Borrego at 4am. Somewhere near Ocotillo, four miles down a bumpy dirt road, we parked and started our rockabout adventure to four different peaks and the famous Goat Canyon trestle.
Around 7am we crossed the railroad tracks of the San Diego and Arizona Eastern Line
and started cross-country through a maze of boulders and cacti.
Our first peak of the day was Piedras Grandes. Keith started up a steep slope approach, while I struggled with an enticing class 3ish ridge.
After climbing about a thousand feet, we reached the summit, where a wild and cold wind greeted us like an icy-veined lover's slap in the face.
Next we dropped down the other side of Piedras and contoured southward toward the Goat Canyon Trail. In the distance, some clouds raced across the tiptops of the Jacumba Mountains, as if being chased by the legendary colony of nudists who haunt this region.
It had rained on us during the drive eastward into the desert from San Diego. But on this side of the range, the rain never touched us the entire day.
Now on the Goat Canyon Trail, we climbed steadily on a nice use path for approximately another thousand feet.
Then the route flattened out
before descending into boulder-stuffed Goat Canyon.
The trail grew less and less defined here, but really there was only one place to go, and that was downward.
Soon enough the trestle came into view, spanning a great chasm.
According to Jerry Schad, this is one of the greatest wooden trestles in the world. So Keith and I went down for a closer peek.
Apparently walking the tracks is strictly forbidden. So I won't bore you with the details of how we spent the next half hour or so.
After the trestle, we worked our way up a little ridge to the Puff benchmark.
Little known fact: surveyors named this spot after the magic dragon who lives in nearby Carrizo Gorge and can often be heard roaring loudly for a mate who will most likely never appear.
Next we contoured in search of the long-sought benchmark called Moan. While checking most of the false bumps before it, we managed to endure the wrath of many attack cacti who would periodically fling little spines into our legs and feet.
About this time my left knee made preparations to detach itself and flee into the desert to die with whatever remaining dignity it still possessed. But I somehow coaxed it into further submission. Soon I was glad to find the Moan benchmark and rest for a bit.
From Moan we dropped through another maze of boulders en route to Indian Hill.
With little effort we got to the top, climbing a mere 130 feet of class 2/3 rock.
Finished with the last summit, we took a very sandy road to the train track, and followed the wooden ties back to the car.
Our total mileage was 12.3 with about 3600' of gain in 10 hours.
