I was in Los Angeles visiting Dave Jurasevich when we decided to go and climb something. Dave suggested something easy, a climb of a big mountain called San Jacinto Peak. We drove in his car out to the city of Palm Springs, California where we’d ride the Palm Springs Aerial Tramway. Without lifting a finger, it would move us from sea level all the way up to an elevation of 8,516 feet. All we’d then have to do is walk along an excellent trail to the summit. This sounded great, and I was totally on board – it would be an easy and enjoyable day. Imagine our shock when we pulled up to the lower tram station and found the parking lot completely empty. Dave just about soiled himself when we saw the sign stating that the tram was closed for the day for repairs. Over a period of 30 years, he had ridden the tram dozens of times, in every month and season, to climb the peak from the upper station. It had never been closed, not once ever in those many times he’d come to ride it.

As reality set in, we tried to come up with a Plan B. We had spent hours to drive the hundred miles from Dave’s home to get to the tram, and it seemed a total waste to not climb something that day. I knew nothing about the area, but Dave knew quite a bit. He suggested that we drive all the way around to the west side of the mountain and make our way to a trail-head that would start us up by a different route. We finally rolled into the town of Idyllwild where we visited the U.S. Forest Service ranger station – their helpful staff directed us to the right road to take, and away we went. Black Mountain Road is what we wanted, and after driving up it for 7 miles we arrived at a dirt parking area. We loaded up our day packs with snacks and a couple of quarts to drink. This was the start of the Fuller Ridge Trail, and this would be our way to the top of the mountain. We were at 7,720 feet elevation, and by the time we started walking it was 1:00 PM.

Dave getting ready to leave

The date was August 6th, and the day was sunny and warm. Dave and I had thousands of climbs under our belts, so we certainly had no concerns about walking up a trail to a summit, this one or any other – it could be fairly argued that we were experts at this sort of thing! Even though Dave hadn’t been up this trail before, he had climbed San Jacinto Peak dozens of times in the past, so it was without a care in the world that we started out. At first, the trail climbed gently through the forest along the north side of Fuller Ridge. We chatted as we went, enjoying the scenery. At around 8,400 feet, the trail gained the top of the ridge – at this point, we had gone about 2.5 miles. All was well – maybe it was a bit warmer than we’d expected, but otherwise we were fine.

The trail now stayed along the top of the ridge, skipping back and forth from one side to another. The views were amazing and we soaked it all up. Although we didn’t want to admit it to one another, we were getting tired. One description of this part of the route says:

“The views of San Jacinto’s north face are amazing and enough motivation to get your heart racing and to put a spring in your step”.

Hmmm, that’s odd – we weren’t noticing any spring in our step. Oh well, no worries, we just carried on. I mean, all we had to do was follow a really good trail and it’d take us all the way to the top, right?. It did all seem to be taking longer than we’d expected, though, and it felt hot out there in the blazing sun as we toiled uphill. Five miles in, we met up with another trail – our elevation was now 8,940 feet.

Because it felt so hot, we had no choice but to keep drinking the gatorade we’d brought, but we were almost out – it was obvious we hadn’t brought enough. Our trail climbed steeply, at times up a series of switchbacks. There was an area where it was rocky, and the trail was marked by a series of cairns. One mile after the trail junction, we reached a place called Little Round Valley where the trail leveled out for a while. We were now at 9,800 feet. I think it was around this point that we first discussed the idea of turning around and heading back. Nah, that didn’t seem like a good option – after all, it couldn’t be too much farther to go to reach the summit. We’d come all this way and worked so hard to get to this point, there was no way we wanted to quit now.

Dave told me about a hut he remembered near the summit – he’d visited it many times in the past. Hopefully it was still standing. What if we kept going and made it that far, maybe we could spend the night. It was getting late enough in the day that there was no point turning back now. We felt so tired and were so thirsty that we started to act really goofy. For some unknown reason, we became fixated on remembering funny things from the old TV show The Beverly Hillbillies. As we walked along, we’d sing snatches of the theme song, and remember odd things about the different characters. Every time we thought of another funny detail, we’d both start laughing like a couple of little kids – Granny’s vittles, the cement pond, Jethro’s ciphering. The heat was definitely getting to us, and coupled with the fact that we were now dehydrated, the farther we went the crazier we became.

The next stretch, about 1.3 miles, was a misery. A long series of switchbacks seemed to go on forever, and we became more punchy with every step. One more junction, at almost 10,600 feet, meant that we were almost there. Another third of a mile and it was done! The hut was still there, and no hut ever looked finer.

Dave at the cabin door

We set our packs by the door, then walked the last few steps to the summit of Mount San Jacinto, elevation 10,804 feet.

Lounging on the summit

Here’s a view down to the valley bottom and Palm Springs.

The valley below

Needless to say, the views were impressive in every direction – here’s one to the north.

Looking north

What an ordeal, we were totally spent! After lounging around a bit on the very top of the peak, we made our way back down to the hut.

The door was unlocked and we went inside. There, we found a few bottles of water and scraps of food others had left – we were saved!

I had brought a cell phone with me – heading over to the window with a clear line of sight down to the city of Palm Springs, almost 11,000 vertical feet below, I dialed my home number. When my wife Dottie answered, I told her where we were and the story of our afternoon and how we were stuck there for the night. She thought it was hilarious, that we were a couple of idiots, and Dave could hear her laughter all the way across the room. She was right, of course –  we were idiots.

We took stock of everything in the cabin: a fireplace that was sealed up; two sets of bunk beds; a scrap of old foam mattress; one sleeping bag. The sleeping bag was a greasy, filthy old thing that belonged in a landfill – you certainly didn’t want to put your body inside it.

Inside the cabin

Bleak House

Daylight was already fading as we settled in for the night. We had quenched our thirst with the water we’d found, so there was nothing left to do but hunker down and try to get some sleep. It was a fitful night, but fortunately the temperature didn’t drop below 53 degrees F. in the hut. At first light, rather bleary, we shouldered our day packs and started down the mountain. The 7.6 miles went surprisingly quickly, and a couple of hours later we found ourselves back at Dave’s truck, none the worse for wear. But we were still idiots.

Hindsight is always 20-20, isn’t it? Guidebooks describe the Fuller Ridge Trail to the summit as “a long day”, but of course we hadn’t taken the trouble to find that out ahead of time. We got our just desserts for starting so late.