San Diego, CA through Joshua Tree National Park, CA

Brian: Today was a rough one, and not just because we planned on camping and then it rained this night. You'll see. We left Steve and Leah's well rested but apparently not completely "with it" because we left some pretty vital items there (don't worry parents, we had our computers). More on that as we set up camp. Basically every person we've run into on the west coast has sworn that Joshua Tree is one of the coolest national parks in the country, and we had a day before the Superbowl, so we decided to just book it out there and see what happens. But right as we were pulling into the park, we realized we only had a couple bars of gas left in Lucy. In order to avoid the fume-driving incident from a couple days ago, we turned around to hit the nearest gas station. It was 20 miles away.

Nick: Ever heard of Mecca? I mean, OK, you've heard of Mecca, but do you know the one in Southern California? You do? Are you Hispanic? Knew it. As Brian commented as we pulled into town, we've never felt so much like outsiders in our own country. No one spoke English, and nothing was written in anything but Spanish. No problem, there's a gas station. Those work bilingually right? Mm, you know, we need firewood too though. That shouldn't be too bad, I know the word for "wood" (unfortunately that knowledge came from the iPhone, and not my four semesters of college Spanish) so "Necesito madura para un fuego" should be close enough to land us some of what we need. Three different stores and a lot of confused Hispanic people later, we were only able to come up with a couple bags of charcoal. Guess it'll do.

Brian: Our theory was that since there are no trees in the desert, the expense of shipping firewood to their local Hispanic food markets would outweigh the benefits for shop owners. On the other hand, Joshua Tree National Park website states explicitly that they do not provide firewood, so maybe that's something to think about, ese. So after a couple hours we headed back to Joshua Tree, with the feeling that our affairs were somewhat in order. In fact so confident were we, that we decided to go on a little hike that brought us back to our campground around dusk. Nick, you are on fire duty. I'll pitch the tent. Where's the tent? Oh, here it is (tricked you). After that we attempted to roast some hotdogs over the coals, but instead of providing heat, the coals decided to release noxious black fumes which instantly dyed our dogs black.

Nick: Screw it, we've got some chips and jerky. I say we call it quits: get into our super warm sleeping bags and go to sleep; just because it's a desert doesn't mean it's hot after the sun goes down. Oh. Oh, oh oh. Crap. No bags. We must have forgotten them at Steve and Leah's place. Well, tent, as much as we've come to enjoy your non-waterproof company, we've got to shack up in Lucy tonight. Only way to keep warm. If you were to have stumbled upon our car in the middle of the cold, lonely desert that night, you'd have found two men wearing damn near every article of clothing they own, curled up in balls shivering and praying for day light. Did we mention it was raining? That we both have monster beards at this point wouldn't have helped to dispel the hobo-chic look.

Brian: If you were wondering, slightly damp towels are a poor alternative for sleeping bags. I swear the next time it rains we will be prepared. Mark my words... Brian and Nick, coldly out.