It was my final day in Joshua Tree. I could say that the Lost Horse Loop trail chose me to explore her, which is as true as any statement I’ve made. My water is low, and food is scarce as I start walking into the desert.
I think it will be fun to see the Lost Horse mine, a preserved mill of silver and gold back in the days of The West. Yet I take the backwards way of the trail, which puts miles under my feet before I even get to the mine viewpoint.
I squeeze out the last remaining drops of water from my cantina as I push onward through the desert. I have no wildflowers this late in the year, only my dark thoughts as I push forward. I wonder if I’ve taken a wrong turn as there were plenty of cars at the trailhead, yet I haven’t seen another person for hours.
The trails starts to ascend rapidly up the mountain, sweat starts to pour off my brow. My water is gone, as well as any food. I chastise myself for being hilariously unprepared, yet know that a part of me likes to push the boundaries of living.
There is no glory in dying unprepared, so why do I push the limits of safety?