In Search of Blue Sun Cave
Part 3/3: Finding Blue Sun Cave
After crossing over the railroad tracks, I pedaled on a wide desert road that had deep DG/sand. Even with the fat tires, it was a laborious effort to move forward. I quickly got out of the tracks and moved onto the side, where the road was hard and somewhat smooth. Looking out across the land, Indian Hill was to my right and the road at one point was taking me in the opposite direction. I stayed the course.
Eventually, the road bent back the other way and I could see more jumbles of boulders in the distance. As I pedaled past Indian Hill, the road became narrow, or maybe I got off the primary road and was on a side road. I truly do not know, as I was basically pedaling along with what felt like the way the tire tracks and footprints were going. On my right was a giant mound of boulders. Looking up, I saw a feature that clearly was not Blue Sun Cave, but looked rather impressive.
I pedaled on. Around, I went. The path narrowed even more and I ended up in a wash. I was absolutely loving the tighter track and meandering through plant life that scratches and pokes and requires nimble bike handling skills. The challenge of it all, of not getting my skin scraped up, was soon lost.
Not seeing anything like what I remembered from my research, I decided to turn around and make it a day of riding desert roads in an area that was new to me. I had given up. I threw in the towel. I felt like there was no way I’d find it, that I had no real clue of where it actually was, that I needed to do more research.
No big deal, to me, as I had a good couple of hours of wandering the desert already in my morning outing. I thought I’d find a good spot for an early lunch and hang out, and then I would pedal away the day.
Going back the way I came, I saw the prominent feature now up on my left. I pedaled by it.
I squeezed my brakes.
I decided that while I was there I should go see it. Scramble up the boulders and check it out. It would be a great view from up there, I thought.
I turned around and pedaled. Then I got off my bike and followed a more noticeable footpath into the desert. I stashed my bike and walked up an incline, trying not to bump against cholla cactus.
At the top of the incline, there was a well-worn path that seemed to likely circumnavigate the boulder field/hill. I went right, in the direction of a very large, arcing slab. Arriving at it, I looked up and suddenly saw what I did not see from below while on my bike.
There was no one around. I had the entire place and moment to myself.
I scrambled up the rocks, thinking: if this is it, I have no idea how I arrived here.
Looking in to what is not really a cave and is not at/on Indian Hill, I saw many pictographs, including the blue sun.
They are believed to be not more than 500 years old and are of the La Rumorosa style. Some pictographs in the cave are of the San Luis Rey style. Exactly who painted them is unknown, but they are of the Kumeyaay people’s ancestral lineage.
I was there for some 20 minutes. I have no idea why, but while sitting and looking out, I thought of and softly said, peace be with all of you.
Then, literally, a cactus wren sang a song.
Breezes blew.
Incredulous, is the only word I could use to describe the actual thought of: I found it. I had no business finding it, as my research did not really include where it actually is/was. Gandalf didn’t really tell me where it was, either.
For whatever reason, I saw the soaring stone and it resonated with me. I passed by it twice. Then I went back and the next thing I knew, I was off my bike and walking up an incline and following a footpath and … there it was.
Outside of the entrance, I ate a bar and drank some water. I then carefully scrambled my way back down through the boulders. It took me a little extra time to find my bike. Back on it, I had zero cares in the world.
I turned cranks across the desert.
It was a bluebird day.
The sun was high.
Nope, I am not providing details on its exact location. If you’re ever in the vicinity of Indian Hill, you’re close. Pack lots of water and grub and have an adventure.
To support independent writing about mountain biking and indie beer, as well as receive discounts to MTB-related businesses and breweries, use this link to get the $10.20/year subscription price. You’ll receive upwards of 75 newsletters in your email inbox throughout 2024, bringing it to about 14 cents for each email/musing/post:
Well done writer/rider man
A secret is best kept
Truly an epic adventure! And a sacred place worth protecting.