Spelunking at Arroyo Tapiado Mud Caves

I have heard about the mud caves of Anza Borrego before. And when  Che came up with the idea of exploring the mud caves as a group, I looked forward to the outdoor event as another "been there, done that" experience for me.

I was lucky to have Debra switch shifts with me so I could join the group.

The adventure reminds me of two  caves I have been into in the past: the Lawrence Welk Talus Caves north of Escondido which my friend Kay would remember exploring with me from time to time and the Lava Beds National Monument caves at Tule Lake which RN and I visited last summer. The Arroyo Tapiado Mud Caves in Anza Borrego State Park is a hidden destination for spelunking enthusiasts. 

I didn't want to miss the caves for any mudder fucking excuse. I decided to go even if I have to drive myself crazy. Everyone is coming from everywhere anyway. Che was coming from Palm Springs, Maria was driving from LA, Dan and Amy also coming from east of LA and Lisa and Tim live about 40 miles from me. No awkward carpools for me. 

So I hummed Nora Jones all the way to Ocotillo by I-8. 

"But I'll be a bag of bones, driving through the road alone." 

I am still wondering whether Nora Jones actually meant vagabond instead of bag of bones.

I got to the dropped pin location before everybody did. The digital camera timer actually worked and there I was looking like an idiot trying to do a jumping shot of myself on a timer. I made sure there was no other fucking soul in sight. 

I didn't  feel the earth move under my feet but Dan did.  He was examining the mud cave that formed under the bridge that I was tryng to cross.  There was a total conflict of interest:  Dan who was leading the group was into spelunking and I would cross any bridge when I get to it.  But I have never looked so homicidal in a picture before. If I buried Dan alive that moment while Maria took my photo, it would have been awfully devastating for Amy who happened to be watching how I could have buried the love of her life alive.

The only interpretative sign I saw at the opening of the canyon described  Arroyo Tapiado Caves as crumbling sand castles. The sign that described how water carved wash sediments over time stressed the danger of exploring the caves. 

The thought of the caves collapsing and burying us alive in the canyon was never far from our minds while navigating with the little light that our headlamps could provide. Dan talked about how the survivors from the group would return to the canyon every year to offer purple flowers to the burial sites of those of us who would perish. 

Wary of the black clouds looming further north, we basked under the midday sun. The cool breeze that seemed to emanate from the caves was the best chill pill of all.

The delicate beauty of the desert seemed to come to life  right before my very eyes as  Amy chose the saddle to rest on while Dan took to the summit. 

I don't know why Che reminded me of Aladdin and his magic lamp. As a Filipino, I would use statue in a sentence by asking Che. Statue, Princess Jasmine?

Oh well, Princess Jasmine is Aladdin's girl in case you are so fucking lazy to google it up. 

"Hey guys, did you know that San Andreas Fault is two miles away?"  

Back to mud cave talk as we rejoined for a groupie on Tim's camera.

The area is actually the southern terminus    of the San Andreas Fault. Think of it as a shorter version of the Pacific Crest Trail.