“Exodus”: A desert Journey

The Jewish people understand that our lives do not exist in a vacuum, but are rather part of an ever-evolving and ever-repeating story. We see this in all walks of life, from global tragedies to joyous celebrations. And sometimes in strange occurrences, like spontaneous road trips to the middle of nowhere. In a world full of deserts, we find ourselves as wanderers. This was no different for these two idiots, and their wild, spiritual adventure to Death Valley…

Thus, we embark on the familiar story of Exodus. Shortly before Hashem executed his tenth plague – taking the lives of every Egyptian’s first-born child – he instructed the Jews to mark their doors with the sacrificial blood of the lamb, making it easier for his angel of death to pass over them. Therefore, it only made sense that this journey began with a similar sacrifice: an innocent bunny rabbit, hopping across the 90 Freeway. Albeit, the driver who hit it may have been less intentional than his ancestors, with a now blood-stained bumper, their journey into the heart of Death Valley was protected from the angel of death. 

After attempting to sleep in a random parking lot, we, like Moses, were issued a proclamation by the law of the land: “get out!” Only our Pharaoh was a park ranger in tight-fitting khaki pants and a trail mix-stained shirt. With that, we began our long expedition to the promised land! Unfortunately, with an angry ranger on our tail, we had little time for the Guaca-salsa we acquired at Trader Joe's to coagulate. But if our ancestors could make do with unleavened bread, then maybe, just maybe, we could deal with eating our Trader Joe's Chili & Lime Flavored Rolled Corn Tortilla Chips without a dip.

On our first hike of the day – Natural Bridge – we discovered a hidden passage through the canyon, which took us sky-high (20 feet or so). We can only imagine that our view from above felt similar to the triumph of the Jewish people when they witnessed the Red Sea. Yet, just as Pharaoh and his men had begun to chase the Israelites, we too found ourselves cornered. Another set of hikers were venturing up the narrow passage, and we were quite concerned about falling onto them. Not to mention, they didn’t seem to hear us screaming that we were coming down. However, we learned from the great Moshe that there’s power in communicating through rocks. So we began throwing tiny pebbles down the passage, making them aware of our presence. And this, B’’H, was enough to clear a path back onto the hiking trail.

Soon, we encountered OUR Red Sea: the Badwater Basin. Living up to its name, this basin was quite bad at having water. In fact, it had no water, giving us the confidence that we could easily cross from one side to the other, just as the Israelites had crossed the sea. We were sorely mistaken. Steps turned to miles, minutes turned to hours, and the horizon of the other side appeared ever so close, and yet so far away. We had lost track of our conversation, replacing it with the occasional “pretty sure we’re halfway there!” and “we’re actually so close!” We were neither. The ground was waning thin, and our shoes began to sink into the muddy, salty surface of the basin. Falling ankle-high, then knee-high into what felt like quicksand, it appeared all hope was lost. But then, a sign from Hashem…

Above us was an upside-down rainbow. Don’t ask us how it worked, ‘cause we have no idea. Still, it inspired us to trek on, raw dogging the jagged salt, shoes in hand, until we finally returned to the car. Scarred, beaten, but possessed by the determination of the Israelites, we ventured on, in search of the promised land. Through it all, Miriam (Maya) continued to dance with her timbrels, singing songs of redemption: Abba!

Our next hike – Sidewinder Canyon – may not have been 40 years, but holy shit did it feel like it. Trudging aimlessly through canyon after canyon, we were unsure how much more hiking we could endure. But we come from a lineage of nomads! Making aliyah was in our blood! It would be foolish to stop now, even with an undetermined amount of miles left on our journey. This resilience was rewarded with a stunning sunset atop our Mount Sanai – Dante’s Point. And we certainly received something just as spectacular as the Ten Commandments: at least ten solid pictures from golden hour!

Like Moshe, we felt content, fulfilled, and proud of the journey we’d undergone. But to our surprise, the people below had resorted to a lifestyle of sin. Just across the border of Nevada, we stopped at a part-casino, part-restaurant, part-convenience store, part-entertainment bar, part-gas station, part-petting zoo. A man in a pumpkin suit sang wretched renditions of Piano Man and Ice Ice Baby. And worse, he played the harmonica. We know not what was in the meat we were served, but we are quite certain it wasn’t the meat it was supposed to be. Guests were wasting their money away on the same five, rigged slot machines, and they were drinking! The Jews never drink! Not to mention, they’d constructed their own Golden Calf. 

Moshe, the good man he was, did not give up on his people, so we were sure to not give up on ours! Just as he ventured back up Mount Sanai to once again speak to the burning bush, we ventured back up Dante’s Point the following morning for sunrise. Witnessing the glorious valley in its surreal wholeness, it all seemed so clear. This land, handcrafted by Hashem, could never be spoiled, regardless of the sins of the people. Certainly, no man-made problems could ever be responsible for destroying such a land, nor could the smog of such man-made problems be the reason why this sunrise looked so beautiful. Our faith in the world had returned, and we were ready for our final stop of the trip: the long-forsaken promised land!

Ahead of us were miles of the vast, soft Mesquite sand dunes, which we ran through for hours! The sun beamed down with Hashem’s warmth! A cool breeze wisped us along like the shores of Tel Aviv! We knew no matter how many Goliaths we would encounter on our voyage back home, we had finally made it to where we were meant to be!

We see the stories of our people turn up time and time again. In the best moments, and the worst, and the strangest, we can call on our ancestors' innate knowledge for help. Our journeys will be long and arduous, but if we remain steadfast in determination and joy, we too will end up exactly where we’re supposed to be. That being said, we hope that in your future journeys, no animals will need to be harmed along the way. 

-Maya Kaye and Allen Schultz