The Chasm of Doom

When a tall, skinny Alaskan runs through your campsite at the ungodly hour of 9PM on a nearly moonless night, PBR in hand, promising to lead an adventure through the Chasm of Doom if he can find enough takers, there really is only one possible answer. It didn't take our group too long to sign our lives away as we were eager to partake in this age-old Joshua Tree tradition, having never been around at the right time in the proximity of a willing leader our many trips before. Mo and I were in, as well as JP and his beau from South Carolina, along with Matt, the solo Canadian camper in our site, and the skinny Alaskan's (not to be confused with Skinny the Alaskan, an entirely different person) better half.

The skinny Alaskan (real name: Aaron) was in the middle of proclaiming how a lithe group of seven was the perfect number for the Chasm, being small enough to maneuver easily but large enough to have a critical mass of fun, when Matt the Canadian started running through the full Friday night campsite inviting anyone he could find. As the word got out the campground turned into a sea of headlights, looking and beaming for their future leader as if they were welcoming the Mars Rover. In the only moment of panic that he showed all night, Aaron declared that we had to get out of there before the group got too big - we high-tailed it toward the Real Hidden Valley only to be cut off at the pass by a group of four eager Chasm-goers who had correctly transected our intended route. The final group was 11 plus one American pit bull, the sky was dark and filled with stars, and adventure was in the air.

A trip through the Chasm of Doom is steeped in tradition, and this outing was no exception. Headlights are allowed on the short boulder scrambling approach into the chasm, but once inside they are strictly verboten. The actual Chasm consists of an enclosed tunnel and cave system through a rock mass that would be no big deal in full daylight - there are no real technical climbing moves and your feet are grounded for pretty much the entirety of the journey. However, in pitch darkness, using only your hands, feet, body, and the person in front of you for navigation, the Chasm can get downright scary. There are no actually dangerous drop-offs, but a pit of 2 feet might as well be 100 feet in 0% light. Boulders are scattered all about, and easy scrambling takes on a more challenging element when you can't see your hands in front of your face. Every so often the roof opens up to a view of the beautiful starlight, which helps eliminate the claustrophobia as well as confirm that you are going in the right direction. The Chasm has a general upward trend, with a successful trip exiting onto a huge ledge high above the desert floor, with a breathtaking vista all around. The combination of trust, navigation, communication, and fear results in either the world's perfect potential teambuilding exercise, or a pretty fun thing for a bunch of climbers to do on a Friday night.

Just as the final headlight was extinguished before filing into the mouth, a dark shadowy figure turned towards Mat.

"Mat?" the shadowy figure asked.

"Yeah..." Mat replied.

"Mat Glaser?" the shadowy figure continued.

"Yep... who is that?"

"It's Jullian!! From Cal Cycling!!"

And suddenly, like only the Chasm of Doom can possibly do, two friends were reunited after some seven years of separation, with memories of an epic dirtbag mountain biking trip to Moab and Fruita in their minds. There was no time to talk, however, as the leader had entered already, and Jullian filed in behind Mat, occasionally touching his butt and other body parts as they navigated through the darkness, bonding and reminiscing in the terror of the night.

Our personal Chasm adventure was epic and fun, if not entirely successful. The girth of a few of our members picked up in the parking lot along with the somewhat sketchy navigational skills of the skinny Alaskan combined to prevent a pure through-tunnel of the Chasm. We were eventually stymied after not finding "the birth canal" passage, and not wanting to look too hard with the larger Chasmers in tow. No one in the party wanted to do the old-school 5.9 chimney route, and the promised easy bypass was never located. Declaring it a success, despite not actually tunneling through, the party turned around and retreated the way we came in, this time working our way down the boulderous passageway instead of up. Perhaps our eyes had adjusted to the darkness, or perhaps someone somewhere turned their headlight on (shhh!!!), but we made it out quickly and safely to be greeted by Joe the Pitbull and a still amazing desert vista. Jullian and Mat had the whole weekend of climbing to catch up on life, Aaron the skinny Alaskan vowed to head back in the day-time and perfect his route, and we awoke the next morning to only minor bumps, bruises, and scratches from the previous night's adventure. All in the desert was good.