A MORNING STORM
Drops of water splash on my forehead, waking me in the dark. Through the mesh I see a mob of dark storm clouds. Rain.
Stumbling out of the tent, I throw the rain fly on, tightening it down against bursts of wind. My watch reads 5AM. The rest of the group isn't due at the campsite for another six hours. Time for a quick adventure.
A sandy road meanders through the terrain of the Anza-Borrego Desert. The soft earth bucks my car from side to side, jerking the steering wheel erratically. At any moment the car could get stuck in the sand. I floor the gas pedal and the ride steadies.
Continuing on foot through a gorge, I'm buffeted by gusts of wind and rain. To the east, sunlight starts to break through. A rainbow appears over the cacti and boulders.
The colorful arc follows behind me for at least an hour, deep into the gorge. I check my map. There should be a rarely-visited rock shelter containing ancient pictographs on the slope to my left. Scanning the hillside, a dark overhang catches my eye. I scramble up the boulder-covered slope towards it.
Long before Spanish explorers and missionaries arrived, this desert was home to the Kumeyaay people. They left evidence of their daily lives, rituals, and myths in hidden corners of the Anza-Borrego desert. But the meaning behind much of the rock art here remains a mystery, lost to time.
Arriving at the ancient cave, I peer inside.
Haunting black figures stare back at me from the rock. Outside the shelter, the rainbow shines brighter than ever, enhancing an already surreal scene. Lying carefully on the floor, I admire the once-in-a-lifetime view.
La Rumorosa style pictographs in Kumeyaay territory.
A PALM OASIS
Back at the Agua Caliente Campground, the rest of the group arrives as the rain departs. They drove through the storm to get here; Brennan from Los Angeles, Sophie and Jillian from San Diego. We catch up, unpack the cars, and hit the road again. Painted caves, wildflowers, and rugged desert landscapes await us.
Our first stop is a place called Mountain Palm Springs. If I were crawling through the desert, dying of thirst, and I saw this place, I wouldn't believe my eyes. Surrounded by dry terrain, a grove of native California fan palms springs up from the wet earth, creating a lush canopy that shades the oasis.
A WANDERER'S WARNING
Onward down a bumpy dirt road, across a discontinued railroad track, and on foot along a dry creek, we make our way to a place known as the Blue Sun Cave.
Excavations of an adjacent cave unearthed stone tools that are believed to be 4,000 to 6,000 years old.
The paintings here are spectacular for their variety. Sunbursts, handprints, zoomorphs, anthropomorphs, and abstract geometric designs all appear within the small rock shelter in a spectrum of six different colors. It's rare to see more than two or three different pigments at a pictograph site.
Most mysterious is the cave's namesake, the blue sun. Blue paint is almost never found in pictographs, because blue seldom occurs as a pigment in nature. But the desert is full of surprises.
I stray from the group to check out another nearby cave. The ceiling is stained black from fire. Outside the shelter I meet an old timer in a wide-brimmed hat stained with sweat. He leans on a pair of beat up trekking poles. Within a minute of talking to him, I get the sense he's spent years wandering this desert in pursuit of local legends and ancient realms.
"...so I went searching for the Cave of Seven Pots up on Coyote Peak yesterday, the wind nearly blew me off the mountain. Now, there's supposed to be another pictograph cave near an old mining camp this way. I'm headed there now to look for it."
I mention that in a few days I plan on searching for a pictograph site called the Solstice Cave. He shakes his head.
"Don't bother. I've searched that valley up and down. There's too many boulders up there. You'll never find it."
The clouds darken. I watch the old timer wander off through a sea of ocotillo plants. Hopefully he's wrong.
We cross the train tracks again at Dos Cabezas, about seven miles north of the Mexican border. Massive granite boulders rise out of the hillside. Atop one of them we find another type of ancient rock art; a female fertility symbol called a "yoni".
Nearby, a faint pictograph depicts a horse and rider. It must have been created after the Kumeyaay's first contact with Europeans. Rendered in charcoal black, the figure has a foreboding look to it.
A FAILED HOMESTEAD
We return to Agua Caliente around dusk. The hot springs soothe our muscles. The campfire keeps our spirits warm. A bottle of whisky goes around. Camping's best when the nights are as fun as the days.
In the morning, we trek up Ghost Mountain to the site of some not-so-ancient ruins. In the 1930s, a guy named Marshall South thought he and his family ought to live in the desert on top of a mountain. Not much remains of the structures he built. When the going got tough, his wife left him and he left Ghost Mountain.
One valley over, pictographs and mortar holes mark the site of an ancient village where indigenous people lived for hundreds of years.
A PERFUMED PRAIRIE
North of Borrego Springs, we visit the park's popular wildflower fields. A patchwork of purple and yellow spreads for acres. The sweet fragrance of a million flowers is even more heavenly than the sight.
We catch the sunset from Font's Point, overlooking the badlands. The rest of the group heads home, and I return to Agua Caliente alone. There's more to explore.
A LOFTY LOOKOUT
Dawn finds me navigating around sharp rocks on a rough dirt road through a large valley. There's not another soul around for miles. I park and start up the steep creek bed to search for the Solstice Cave. The old timer's words echo in my ears: Don't bother.
Hopping from boulder to boulder, I advance up the valley. Nearby, a distinctive rock feature catches my eye: a pointed horn. I've seen that feature before, small, in the background of photographs of the Solstice Cave. It's here. I circle around behind the boulder and squeeze through a narrow gap between the rock and the floor.
Before me, a manmade rock wall guards the entrance to an expansive shelter with commanding views of the entire region. Sure enough, there's paint on the ceiling.
High above the desert floor, I can see at least fifty miles to the East. Lying on my back, I count a dozen red and orange sunburst designs on the ceiling. The sandy floor is cool to the touch.
Daydreams of ancient shamanistic scenes float through my mind as I experience the stunning solitude of the Solstice Cave.
Tonight will be my last night at Agua Caliente. I have one more adventure planned for tomorrow before the long drive home.
A WHEEL WITH SEVEN SPOKES
On the side of the highway, I pack my camera bag in the predawn indigo. Trucks blast by. Drowsy, I set out along the wash to visit a type of rock art site known as a geoglyph. Atop a flattened ridge, I find the geoglpyh: a wheel with seven spokes.
The wheel is about twenty feet in diameter. The stones that make up the design are firmly set in the hard desert soil; they've been here for a very long time, perhaps thousands of years. I pace slowly around the wheel. It puts me in a calm, meditative state. Pieces of quartz in the design start to sparkle as the sun's rays hit the crystals.
My thoughts drift back to the Solstice Cave and the collection of small sunburst designs on the ceiling. I remember lying in the cool sand, staring up at them. Maybe that was part of their design: they were intended to be viewed from the ground, by man.
I look down at the geoglyph. It's different. You can't fully appreciate the design from the ground: it's best observed from high above. It's on another scale.
Maybe it was intended to be viewed by the gods.
Footnotes:
Rock art sites are sacred places. Please respect any rock art you encounter, do not touch, do not share unpublished locations, and leave no trace.