Into the Valley: Climbing, Camping, and Wild Horses in the Jacumba Wilderness
On April 4 at 3:00 p.m., seven wide-eyed, psyched students rallied at the ARC. The mission? A weekend of backpacking and climbing deep in the Jacumba Wilderness. With tents, ropes, pancakes, and maybe a few too many snacks stuffed into the classic 1998 Chevy Astro van, they rolled 80 miles east down the I-8.
After exiting at mile marker 77, pavement gave way to gravel, then dirt. A silent border patrol vehicle watched as the crew shuffled gear into Asher Lawson’s red 1955 Jeep, which looked like it belonged equally in a museum and on the set of an off-road action movie.
Asher took off down the rugged 4x4 trail with all the food, water, and climbing gear in the Jeep, while the rest of the crew slung on backpacks and hit the trail—three miles into the unknown.
Their destination? Valley of the Moon—a granite playground tucked against the US-Mexico border. Think Joshua Tree’s cousin, just more remote and somehow even more surreal. Jagged boulders. Dry grass beneath wide desert skies. Wild horses. Yes, actual wild horses.
They crossed over the ridgeline and dropped into the valley just as night fell. Their campsite was a small patch of dirt nestled between two towering boulders, which offered shelter from the wind and a strange sense of security—despite the fenceless border just 50 meters away. The Jacumba Wilderness is a well-known hotspot for border crossings and cartel activity, making the valley feel all the more remote and elusive.
Tents popped up. A fire crackled to life. Spirits soared.
Morning came with golden light and the unmistakable sound of hooves—wild horses galloping in the distance, illuminated by the rising sun streaming between two massive rock formations.
The crew scrambled up a nearby boulder for a better view.
After taking in the scene, they fired up the stove, flipped pancakes, and geared up for a full day of climbing.
The day kicked off with an ultra-featured 5.7 route—massive huecos, caves, and holds so good it felt like cheating. From there, they moved to a neighboring slabby 5.8 and set up a rope on a nervy 5.10d that weaved its way up a thin seam and over a roof. It was spicy. It was type-two fun. It was glorious.
By midday, the desert heat pushed everyone into the shade for lunch and long swigs of water. Other climbers filtered into the valley, gravitating toward the legendary Patina Wall—a giant, orange face studded with perfect flakes. The crew waited their turn, nerves quietly rising. Caleb Thompson—cool under pressure with all two months of lead experience—stepped up to the sharp end. He started from atop a boulder flanked by 20-foot drops on either side. No room for error. Hearts raced as he fumbled the first clip… and then stuck it. Cheers erupted. The rope was up, and everyone got a shot at the wall.
That night around the campfire, stories flowed. Asher’s love for milk. His fear of cotton balls. The mythic cows and horses plotting to eat their food. They laughed hard, slept early, and let the silence of the desert wrap around them.
Sunday morning arrived with sore hands and full hearts. Breakfast. Pack-up. One last look at the Valley of the Moon before hiking out, dirt-streaked and smiling.
Final count: 4 climbs, 2 campfires, 1 trusty Jeep, and—thankfully—0 cotton balls.
