Telescope Peak

Reaching the Summit in Three Cars

The story of my cousin Gregg begins and ends at Telescope Peak. It was after my first attempt to summit this mountain failed when I first met Gregg while soaking in the bath at Tecopa Hot Springs in October 2015. I thought we would make it to the top after hiking all day, but I was disappointed to realize we reached a false summit at 3:30 PM. The true summit was more than 1/4 mile away, but the remaining segment of trail to the top appeared to be completely covered by snow.

I made the tough decision to turn back from the summit with my ex-girlfriend even though we were so close. I was feeling pretty beat up after that hike so we returned to Tecopa Hot Springs for a soak. We had broken up after living together for 4 years. Although we had split, and I had moved in with my dad again, we decided to plan one last camping trip together. I could not understand why I felt I should do this. It didn't really make sense to me that I should go camping with my ex-girlfriend, but somehow we did it anyway.

It was during this trip to Death Valley together that I first met my cousin Gregg, which was a remarkable turning point in my life.

After our fateful meeting in Tecopa I canceled a Christmas snowboarding trip with some friends so me and Gregg could drive to Carson City in search of a home to rent for us and his three large and lovable pitbulls. I wanted so badly to break free from my dad's home, and Gregg was homeless so it was a mutually beneficial arrangement for us.

An extraordinary 10 months followed as we lived together in Carson City. During the first six months together we drove approximately 20,000 miles on together during our weekly trips to Lake Tahoe, and monthly trips to LA.I stood by his side as he struggled with the demons of his past that were finally catching up to him: crippling physical disability, manic-depressive bipolar episodes, family estrangement, and burdening criminal charges pending in California's Mono and Inyo County and Esmerelda County in Nevada. We fought as hard as we could to keep him out of jail and to try and bridge that chasm that had formed between Gregg on one side, and his siblings and mom on the other. But despite our efforts we couldn't fend off death itself and Gregg passed away in November 2016.

I signed up for a yoga teacher training in Reno, NV that October 2016, a few weeks before Gregg exhaled his final breath. It was an act of desperation for me, in attempt to cling onto something in life. Living with Gregg had taken its toll on me mentally and emotionally. I searched for answers through prayer, copious amounts of marijuana and communion with the mountains, forests, and deserts of the Reno-Tahoe area. Less than 5 years before I met Gregg my grandfather and mother both died, just a year apart from each other.

I was tortured with anguish over the loss of my family and my inability to make enough money to support myself. Although I was almost 30, I had never held a serious job in my life. I thought I had an entrepreneurial spirit but my success in business and sales was terrible too. The fact is, I had a pretty poor relationship with money.

Although Gregg had made it clear to me from the day we met that he had troubles, he also shared with me his dream to restart his coffee business: selling Jamaican and Hawaiian coffee in US supermarkets. It was a longshot for sure. had no idea how we could ever do it, but I felt I had nothing left to lose, so I went all in. When Gregg died I felt like the rug was being pulled out from under me again. I had devoted myself fully to taking care of my him and rebooting the Endless World Coffee Company together. Suddenly that dream came to and end along with Gregg's life and I had no idea what to do.

The yoga training gave me something to focus on, and helped me survive one of the darkest winters I've ever experienced. I had moved out of the Carson City home where me and Gregg lived and relocated to a smaller apartment in Reno closer to Gregg who was hospitalized at the Renown Hospital in Reno, his final residence in life.



After Gregg died my friend James came up from Long Beach to live together with me in Reno. That year we went on over 20 snowboarding trips around Lake Tahoe including days of glorious powder runs, but I was really depressed and often struggled to enjoy these moments. Despite my love for snowboarding there were times that my roommate James could barely drag me out the door to hit the slopes together.

Our season of adventures together abruptly came to an end in April 2017 when we were kicked out of our apartment after a dispute with the property manager. We kept two dirt bikes in the kitchen and I was living with a roommate who had never signed onto the rental agreement. Me and James had an intense argument during our move-out that almost turned into a physical fight. We didn't speak with each other for a couple weeks after that.

One of my yoga teacher training classmates invited me to stay with her and I worked with her and her husband on their food truck for a weekend. But I was too unstable. Living with Gregg had a big impact on me. I had taken on a lot of his mental and emotional baggage and I was in desperate need of healing after he died. I probably needed more time alone, but I kept seeking out people and was pushed away by them over and over again.

After the weekend working on the food truck I had a falling out with my yoga classmate in part because I was spending too much time with her husband. She was so angry she couldn't even speak with me herself. Her husband told me I had to leave their home, and I could stay one more night, but then I must be out the door afterwards. I felt betrayed. We had become really close friends, and her accusations of me were completely untrue. I was devastated. After everything else that had been happening, add this trouble to my list.

I knew that time alone in the outdoors could help me work through these challenges and I had already spent a few nights alone in the mountains by now. I was feeling a powerful urge to return to Telescope Peak as I thought about my uncles death and our surreal meeting on the outskirts of Death Valley. I made the decision I would go to Death Valley. I'm not even sure I told anyone of my plans. I feel was pretty unhinged and didn't really care. My car was loaded with food and gallons of water. I was ready for a camping trip, or so I thought.

I drove away in my Grandma's 1984 Ford Festiva. I had received it as a gift earlier that year in January. James drove out to Armagosa Valley with me to pick it up from my grandma's home. After her husband had died, she left the car behind and moved back to LA. This car was like a glorified go-kart. No power steering, no airbags, no radio, an inline 3 cylinder engine, but the AC and heater still worked! I had spent some money getting it fixed up at CoAuto.  But it still needed more work and I had only really done enough for it to pass smog. The thermostat was broken and the mechanic told me I could still drive the car like this, but encouraged me to fix the thermostat as soon as I could. I never asked him for advice on driving into Death Valley with a car like this. I imagine he would've told me not to go...

I set my sights on Death Valley and decided I would make another summit attempt with Telescope Peak. In retrospect this obviously a foolhardy decision to say the least, and downright suicidal if I really think about what I was getting myself into. The desert weather was hot, and my car was not in great condition for long driving trips, and certainly unsuited for a trip into to Death Valley.

But that didn't stop me. I was so caught up in my anguish against my better judgement I set out on the adventure. It was an uneventful, agonizing drive to Lone Pine where I took the highway turnoff for Death Valley. On a steep ascent just about 15 miles west from Panamint Springs my radiator blew, and my engine stopped. I was running my AC which was the straw that broke the camel's back. I was so frustrated for making such a foolish mistake. I knew that the AC should always be turned off on these uphill climbs, even in a new car. Yet perhaps I saved myself from a worse fate of break down in more remote location or one leading to a collision.

This was no time to panic though because I realized I was now in the middle of a potentially life threatening situation. I recorded a couple videos on the side of the rode, had some food and water, and spent the night in my car to give myself time to think.

The next morning I hitched a ride into Panamint Springs with a member of the armed forces who was going on a solo trip to Death Valley. He was the first driver who approached me after holding up my cardboard sign that read: Panamint Springs or Bust. There weren't too many cars on the highway that day. I was ecstatic for his assistance because knew I could make more progress towards my goal of hiking to Telescope Peak.

We stopped at the Darwin Falls trailhead and hiked to the waterfall together. Afterwards we continued on to Panamint Springs. My driver dropped me off at Panamint Springs Resort while he continued into DVNP himself.

Now that I had reached a safe place to exhale, I sat down in the bar, ordered a beer and reflected upon my situation. Initially I was still trying to formulate a plan for how I would get to Telescope Peak without a car. I considered trying to wave down another driver and hitch a ride to the Wildrose Charcoal Kilns or even all the way to Mahogany Flat and attempt the hike in this way.

But thinking about the lack of water sources in the Panamint Mountains and the possibility of not having anyone to drive out of the mountains even if I somehow managed to make it to the trail in the first place I finally came to my senses and accepted I had failed again and I would not be getting on the Telescope Peak Trail on this trip.

The manager of Panamint Springs Resort gave me a ride back to my car to inspect its condition. I turned the key as he watched the lifeless engine. He assertively told me the car was totaled and the engine would need to be replaced. I brought the Festiva to die in Death Valley and I was wondering if I was trying to end my own life here. I cannot imagine many other people would've attempted a trip in a vehicle like mine. But somehow I did. Since I was still alive I had to figure out a way to escape.

I even considered abandoning the car in the desert, but I knew that was illegal and decided against it. So I returned to the resort with the owner, rented a tent with a cot at Panamint Springs for $30 and ordered another beer and pizza at the restaurant. What was I doing out here? The trip was turning into a disaster, but I did my best to keep my spirits up. I recorded a video journal in which I felt proud of making it this far alive and considered that other people would think I was really stupid and irresponsible if they knew what I had done. I was trying hard to convince myself I was in fact, not stupid and irresponsible.

I walked out into the desert to watch the setting sun splash color across the mountains and settled in for a night of uneasy sleep.

In the morning I hatched an escape plan. I had decided against abandoning the car, so I used the satellite phone at the resort to call for a tow truck from Miller's Towing. The phone call itself cost me $15. The tow was maybe $300-$400. I hitched another ride with a driver heading west and waited anxiously for the tow truck to arrive, hoping he would be able to find my location.

After arriving back in Lone Pine at Miller's Towing I paid an additional disposal fee and gave up my totaled car. I went through my belongings in the car, taking my ukulele, computer, yoga books, and all my backpacking equipment. I left behind clothes, food, and books.

It was the heaviest load I've ever carried and I struggled to walk a couple miles up the road to the bus stop at McDonalds. I paid another $30 for a bus ride back to Reno from Lone Pine.

I felt so stupid and defeated. This misguided plan to travel to Death Valley cost me over $500 plus the loss of my car, food, clothes, and books. Adding Death Valley salt to my wounds, the receptionist at CoAuto had even offered to buy my car for $1000 when I was getting fixed in Reno I was devastated. I passed up a chance to sell it and instead had to pay someone to dispose of it for me.

I returned to Reno on the bus with my tail in between my legs and asked another yoga classmate if I could stay with her. I stayed with her for over a week until the last weekend of yoga training in May and I got a hotel room for the night. By this time I had less than $500 left.

I suffered through the graduation weekend of our yoga training where I didn't receive my certificate because I never completed the written test as required. I was extremely bitter about this, especially because my classmate and former friend got her certificated after using the class's closing circle to lash at me one last time and blame me for every single problem in her life. It's funny, because those are the same words Gregg used to hear from his own father.

Fortunately I managed not to ruin the relationship with all my classmates. Everyone knew I was homeless and going through a tough time, so one of them asked me to take care of her dog while they went on a trip together for a week.

While dog sitting for them I became really sick on the first day. I had internalized the conflict with my classmate and couldn't let go and move on. My digestion stopped. If I tried to eat, the food would just sit in my stomach. I had diarrhea, vomiting, and exhaustion. I had some much needed time alone to meditate, exercise, and rest.

I stopped eating and after a few days I began to eat in small amounts. I felt pretty sick still but I wanted to get out of Reno up into the Sierra Nevada.

I finally made it to the 4x4 road that climbs past the kilns on the way up to Mahogany Flat, the highest elevation campground in Death Valley. My Subaru Impreza had enough clearance so that I avoided most of the rocks, but the engine was not strong enough and I crawled up the road, with just barely enough torque to avoid stalling except for a couple of times.

After sleeping in my hammock that night I started on the trail in the darkness of the early morning. As I approached Arcane Meadows the sky began to take on the color of the morning light. Once at the meadows I stopped for some morning exercises with spectacular views of the sunrise.

When I made it back down to my campsite again, I was hit by another wave of severe anxiety. I had no idea what I was doing. I felt so lost, and suddenly having the freedom to go anywhere I wanted wasn't as great as I thought it would be. Because no matter how far I ran, I couldn't escape the ghosts of my past. I smoked a handful of cigarettes and went to sleep early. This chapter in my life was ending, and another one was about to begin.