It’s Saturday, 8:09 p.m. and from my perch on a stone atop Keys View I can see the entire Coachella Valley, lighting up street by street as the sun slides down into the horizon. An ever-present haze clouds the sky, contributing to the impressive spectrum of colors present in the sunset skyline. The wind is quick, strong and surprisingly chilly embracing me and the bats that circle playfully, which makes me happy because I hear they are endangered. As the sun finally gives way to a dark sky so full of stars it’s almost off-putting, it’s easy to forget that I’m right in the middle of an unforgiving desert. Welcome to Joshua Tree.
One day earlier I had hiked about seven miles throughout various points in the park. Over the course of ten hours, 4 liters of water, countless granola bars and sunscreen applications and a life-saving bag of M&M peanuts I had at least set eyes on most accessible areas, summited a mountain peak and encountered almost no humans. A fucking great day.
In Los Angeles for business meetings and with less than a week’s notice I decided to brave the notorious summer heat and explore Joshua Tree, a long-time goal of mine. My interest in the place was sparked by one of my serious hike guides during my first National Park visit to Yosemite back in 2016. A twenty-something Subaru type, he raved about the desolate nature, pristine star-filled night skies and excellent rock climbing. While I made no efforts to scale rocks, I was intrigued by the idea of battling the desert and coming out on top.
A little over two hours west of the city of angels, there’s a reason I saw less than twenty people that day: average summer temps of nearly 100 degrees. Between fires, critical sunburns, accidents and injuries, it’s important to remember that as wonderful as nature is, she is also a serious force. A “Missing Hiker” poster spread awareness about a man not seen since mid-July and a local shop owner told a tale of an Australian visitor who was stuck between some rocks after a fall, not found for four days and now in a wheelchair as a result. This place was something to respect and for which to prepare.
A couple of years ago I started day hiking and with each journey my level of athletic capability and resource preparation has improved. On this trip I hiked the moderately aggressive Ryan Mountain trail, a 3-mile section to the peak, which is a mostly straight uphill trek of about 1,000 feet in elevation gain. Now, this isn’t the longest hike I’ve ever done, nor the largest in elevation gain.
But there is no way to exaggerate the impact of desert sun, heat and fire-induced smog on an already strenuous trail. My breath was more labored due to the combination of altitude and poor air quality. The few passing hikers all looked at me like I was insane, wearing long sleeves, long pants and hat, but this gear – all lightweight, light colored and UV-reflecting was a Godsend in this God-forsaken desert land. Protected from the sun, I was able to muscle through, taking breaks, hydrating and snacking as needed.
When i finally reached the summit and selfie-d with the Ryan Mountain elevation sign, I can confirm that I haven’t felt that accomplished, confident and able in quite some time. Looking over the edge of multi-colored trail rocks the landscape below was all cacti and granite. Millions of years old, this mountain had played host to miners, settlers and now me.
It felt pretty awesome to join that historic company and to have done it with the education and preparation of all the hiking guides that have taught me to this point, including a ten-minute break at cliff’s edge about two-thirds of the way up to inhale M&Ms, my favorite guide Jacqui’s self-professed hiker’s miracle food. She is not wrong.
The rest of the day I did smaller hikes around Ryan Ranch, the creepily-named Hall of Horrors, White Tank campground, Jumbo and Skull Rocks. The natural diversity found in Joshua Tree is hard to explain and impossible to do justice with photography. Straddling the Colorado and Mojave Deserts, some parts are flat stretches with scarecrow shaped Joshua trees and prickly Cholla cacti while other parts boast fields of green onion looking Ocatilla and monstrous rock formations.
My only regret, if I can call it that, is not finding Love Rock, a natural formation that is said to look just like a heart. These days we can all use as much love as we can find and while I was able to locate Arch Rock and other famous forms, I left empty-hearted on that one. The cool – and corny – thing is that every single sight seen by eyes in a place like Joshua Tree is so miraculous that it creates love in you anyway – love for the incredible things that God and nature create and love for the fellow humans around that respect and maintain it.
If my Friday was spent braving the elements of Joshua Tree, my Saturday was spent enjoying them. Around 9 p.m. after that mountaintop sunset on Keys View, I drove deeper into the park to watch the stars. On the floor of the park there is no illumination apart from those of we drivers’ cars, so the naked night sky is literally electric with light.
I have never seen anything so beautiful in my entire life. Parked on a service road inlet with no other cars or people, that was the most isolated and solitary that I’ve ever felt. It was almost scary to be so alone but also terribly liberating. This night sky was something of which I have no evidence except for my feeble vocabulary because an iPhone is dwarfed by the vast, dancing galaxies overhead – less than David to the Goliath.
This fact is a blessing because instead of working hard to get a photo, I worked hard just to see it all with my little human eyes. I couldn’t see all the sky but my eyes, greedy, scanned it back and forth like an old copy machine just trying. Hundreds, thousands of bright white and grey light points scattered throughout the sky like salt spilled on the kitchen table as airplanes rippled through every few minutes.I even saw the Milky Way! I didn’t known what it was at the time – a star connoisseur I am not. It looked like silver sparkle dust, the kind kids use for craft projects. Magical.
I must have stood, sat and lay staring, neck craned at the sky for at least two hours, never getting bored. Even now as I write, I’m struggling to hold on to the vision of that night sky and the touch of that night breeze as it wrapped around my legs and hands, caressed my face and pulled my hair. I knew right then that I would never be so calm, so secure and so in love as I was in those very moments.
As I drove out of Joshua Tree for the last time that night, I was embraced by the ghosts of the trees themselves, lit up like deer in the headlights of my vehicle, waving goodbye with their edges, glowing like wolf eyes on fire. I’d like to think I’m part of their club, now, welcome to return anytime with credibility already established. And since I’ve had a taste of the otherworldly acceptance that only a desert and its skies can deliver, I imagine I’ll be back.