Hollywood and Vine

We knew exactly where we were, not lost, just not where we wanted to be.

Another Full Moon Campers Adventure

The intersection of Hollywood Boulevard and Vine Street in Hollywood, California has been a waypoint for hopeful actors and actresses since the 1930’s. With its proximity to major movie studios it was widely rumored that one could be discovered just by strolling down the boulevard.

But I am getting ahead of the story…

Throughout the 1980’s one of the Full Moon Camper’s favorite places to camp was Anza-Borrego Desert State Park in Southern California. The park is known for its rugged landscape, sculpted by forces of nature. The erosion that attacked the uplifted mountains has produced vast alluvial fans that are full of meandering arroyos (dry creek beds) and wadi’s (gully’s).

We never stayed in a campground, we dry camped (now typically called boondocking or dispersed camping). One of the reasons we loved this park is we were allowed to pull off the main road and follow trails back into the canyon to find our own space. The rules were basic, we had to camp well off the trail and no ground fires so we carried a large wash tub (we fondly referred to as Larry’s Hot Tub) in which we built our fire.

As this was well before personal GPS receivers and online maps we accumulated a vast collection of paper maps (that we still have) including: road, topographical, park service, as well as hand written. We spent many days studying the area maps to pick our next location. We also concentrated on learning the local topography and landmarks.

We typically arrived on Friday night, set up our tents, fire area and shared kitchen. Saturday morning was when we refined our camp and planed the day’s adventures.

As we often stayed up late on the first night at camp our days started later so breakfast was usually somewhere around 10:00 am. In truth we pretty much stayed up late every night when camping.

After devouring breakfast (eggs, bacon, sausage, potatoes, English muffin) we double checked our backpacks which were always packed with survival gear and all we had to add was water and snacks.

It was a warm day as we started out around noon (2 men, 3 women and a cute puppy called Gretchen) leaving behind one adult and two kids that were not up for the adventure that day. We were dressed for a day hike with our shorts and t-shirts and as always, our hiking boots.

We headed east out of camp over a low canyon wall that dropped into a moderate sized wadi. Once on the other side we built a cairn (small stack of rocks) to mark our entry / exit point, then headed south. We had a plan with a defined turn around point. Two hours down the trail, two hours back, and two hours for contingency. As there is a mountain range west of the park the sunset (that time of year) is around 6:00 pm; however there was still ambient light until well after 7:00 pm.

As we zigged and zagged down the canyon I reminded the group, “It’s 2:00 pm, we should probably head back before it gets to dark.” The “Fire Goddess” as always, wanted to go just a little bit further. We all agreed to continue through the canyon and were aware that we may be staying the night out on the trail.

By 4:00 pm we were fully committed to continue on. We knew from research the drainage's in this area (including this wadi) mostly traveled southwest and paralleled County Road S2 (approximately 1.5 miles to the west). The compass verified our direction of travel so we felt confident we were on the right track, however, it was becoming apparent we needed to find a suitable location to bivouac.

As we traveled further along the wadi it joined with an arroyo. We started to notice human tracks. Next the arroyo opened into a wide well traveled wash. We actually were a little giddy as we knew we were possibly closer to the County Road then we thought. With the suns dying light we spotted a beacon on a hillock. Using flashlights we illuminated a replica of the iconic sign ‘Hollywood and Vine.’[i]

In an instant we knew exactly where we were, not lost, just not where we wanted to be.

The good news was that many people camp in the area. The bad news is walking into a desert camp after dark can sometimes be dicey. We saw a dim light emanating from behind the hillock, myself and the other man decide to check it out. In the camp was an old trailer that looked as if it had weathered many a sand storm, there was also an equally tired looking Dodge van. We yelled “Hello in the camp!” but we were ready to seek cover in case our greeting was met with malice. A back-lit figure appeared at the trailers door. An old camper exited the trailer and with a friendly reply asked if we were lost or needed help.

The rest of our party walked in from the shadows as we explained our situation to the old camper. We asked if he could possibly drive one of us out to the County Road so that we could catch a ride up to our camp to get a vehicle and then come back to pick everyone up. He said “I’m not going to do that, I’ll just take you the whole way” and with that we loaded into the van. As I climbed into the passenger seat and the rest climbed into the back sitting on the floor we all stared at each other remembering an old movie we once saw that went terribly wrong with a stranger and an old van. After a long twenty minutes we were back in our own camp. The old camper would not accept payment, or the offer of dinner, however he did except a six-pack of Coors.

As the old camper drove off in a cloud of dust the adult left back with the kids walked up and said “I was wondering when you guys were coming back?” I inquired “Were you at all concerned about us?” to which he replied “I guess I would have been worried if you hadn’t returned by breakfast.”

“Worried about Us or Breakfast?” I wondered.

[i] According to Diana and Lowell Lindsay book; Anza-Borrego Desert Region: A Guide to State Park and Adjacent Areas of the Western Colorado Desert: James A. Jasper, a San Diego County supervisor, was responsible for signing this and many other places about a mile apart along several of the dim and dusty trails threading the San Diego backcountry in 1895.