We were straddling the US/Mexico border roughly an hour east of San Diego in the Mars-like backroads of Jacumba Hot Springs, CA. This was the first time any of us had been out here. We didn't have expectations. We were just exploring. The scenery was insane. The roads were getting progressively more difficult.
"I don’t think you’re gonna make this one,” I yelled back to Ryan in his '87 4x4 Toyota van. She was doing her best and he had taken her much further than any of us would have expected. She just didn't have the clearance for what lie ahead; it was a suicide mission. He agreed, we moved his gear into my car and we all hopped in.
We continued up to the top of a ridge that ran along side the low lying rock infested valley below. We found a flat spot between two peaks perfectly protected from the sporadic wind and setup camp. We had an incredible view of the valley below. Occasionally we'd spot a Wrangler, or a border patrol agent, or a rogue journeymen making his way from Mexico to god knows where. The stars came out in full force, the air was dead silent, and we shot the hell out of seven Tecate cans with our manly BB guns. We could't have been more stoked in Jacumba Hot Springs.
When the going gets tricky, consolidate.
If only we had rocks to throw.
Extreme BB gunning.
Break of dawn over El Centro.
The Valley, one of San Diego's premier climbing destinations.
Room with a view.
If these walls could talk.
The Vienna Burrito Factory.
The cans didn't stand a chance.