Desert Hot Springs
After weeks of recording, Curt decided that a break for rejuvenation was required & we all packed into his tiny Toyota & headed for Desert Hot Springs. On the way, we stopped at a tram that went to the top of a mountain in the Jacinto Wilderness. To this day I have no idea where we were — nor do I ever want to ride that tram again. I expected to plunge to my death as we rolled & bobbled over each tower at each precipice. The towers that supported the Tram lines were built on little peaks and by my estimation, we were about 10,000 feet in the air, give or take a few thousand.
When we finally arrived at the top, Curt insisted that we hike to a remote lake where we achieved a more “communal” state of mind with which to regard the panorama laid out before us. As dusk fell, we suddenly realized that the last tram was leaving in about 15 minutes, and made a mad dash to catch it–which we did. As it turned out, we were the only ones on the tram, along with a couple of crew people who were not enamored of our particular brand of communication and hilarity. I should say the guys were laughing. I, on the other hand, was hyperventilating & giggling hysterically praying for it to end. We piled back into Curt’s tiny datsun & continued the trek to Desert Hot Springs. Suddenly, there was a monstrous desert storm & the rain began to fall in sheets. We could barely see but Curt just barreled along oblivious to our imminent demise. Without warning, a river of water appeared over the road. We stopped to contemplate this new development, & Curt, ever brash and bold, hit the gas undaunted. Once again, I was sure that my untimely death was just a few minutes away. Obviously we made it, because I’m writing this remembrance.
The rest of the trip was no less eventful, however I’ll leave that to one of the other guys to complete. Just thinking about the first part of the trip makes my palms sweaty all over again.
That was also the night I shaved off my carefully cultivated mustache. The only person that noticed was Chuck — which I suppose is a commentary on what a pitiful mustache it was. He looked at me and exclaimed, “does not compute, does not compute!”, I’ve never attempted another — nor have I ever been back to Desert Hot Springs. Some experiences are best left to just once a lifetime. – Mardig (Mardi)
