Between a rock and a hard place on the Ho Chi Minh Trail (California)
On a hike in San Diego circa May 2023 I ran into a pickle. Ahead of me lay a sloped sandstone ledge about a foot wide with a dropoff maybe 12 feet down into a rockbed. I saw nothing to hold on to if I started to fall. I'd already been sliding and now the risk to continue forward felt maybe too great. A fall from this height would likely end with fractures.
I considered turning back, but I wasn't sure that option was much better. There were a few steps I'd barely landed and with some people behind me, I wasn't even sure how we could move past each other. Shit shit shit. How did I get here? Like a "frog in boiling water", the threats had developed gradually, rather than suddenly. Now I was 90% done with the trail but facing the worst of it.
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The Ho Chi Minh Trail, also referred to as the Saigon Trail, is a 0.7-mile former surfers trail in La Jolla, California. Accessed from a clifftop neighborhood, it's a short trail that leads down to Black’s Beach, changing terrain several times along the way.
To read a description on Google or AllTrails today, it will say "it's a challenging, technical trail that involves rock scrambling and maneuvering through canyons." This blog says "It is an extremely treacherous hike given the sandstone gets very slippery when wet. There are roughly 50-100 cliffside rescues that happen every year and oftentimes via helicopter due to injuries. "
I can't tell you verbatim what the descriptions said at the time I went, but I can tell you that it wasn't quite so dire. To set the stage, I was in San Diego on a work trip. I was just trying to have a little adventure before my event started, not add an extreme hike to my roster. Reading on, it appears this trail has eroded significantly in the last few years, and the word is starting to get out about how risky the hike really is.
Though I hoped not to use them, I did have a couple of ways to call for help and there was the group that had just come up behind me (one of them in flip flops, with a dog, what?!) I decided the best way out was through and I swiftly picked my way over the tricky section - hanging as close to the high side of the trail and rock wall as I could while my soul briefly left my body.
Then the final obstacle: a rope tied to a tree root that was an absolute necessity in order to scale the final drop down to the beach.
At the bottom, we all cheered and took a moment to let relief wash over us. (Yes, I'd attached myself to that group.) It was clear none of us had particularly bargained for all that. But the truth is, it was fucking magical. I was in awe of what I had just done.
Knowing that I would NEVER have to do it again, I allowed myself a moment of indulgence - to feel accomplished and to revel in the connection I felt to the landscape of a place I had only touched down in a few hours earlier.
But it also dawned on me that I'd learned a valuable lesson. I learned it’s not enough to look at an obstacle in front of me and ask if I think I can make it through. Now, I consider whether I would want to do it twice should I get further and have to turn back.
I’m always grateful when I can learn a lesson through experience, but without the worst happening. It’s experiences like this that show you where you’re succeeding and where you can do better. Bonus points if you can do it with a magnificent view.