A few weeks ago, Mack and I trekked to Joshua Tree National Forest with some friends to camp out and do some hiking. We'd heard really nothing about the park or its namesake trees, so when we got to the actual park, I wasn't exactly sure if what I was seeing was a Joshua Tree. For anyone else who may have been in that same boat of pretending to know, this is a Joshua Tree.
Fortunately, Mack has a habit of reading all those informational signs whenever we go exploring, so when I have questions, he usually has the answers. So, why are they called Joshua Trees?
"While the Mormons were crossing the desert the tree reminded them of a story where Joshua holds up his hands to the sky. Apparently they felt these trees were a symbol that they were going the right way, which is why they landed in Utah. Did you know that Chinese women have sideways clitorises?"
Fascinating. The Joshua Tree National Park contains the Joshua Tree forest, which I never took the time to conceptualize. I've spent most of my forest time amidst pine trees or Kentucky-traditional forests of oaks and maples and everything else in the Red River Gorge. I've always thought of forest not just as trees but also as canopy and muddy leaves on the ground. The Joshua Tree forest has just as many trees as a regular forest, but since the trees "only grow up to 10 cm a year" there is no canopy. And since the trees are so tiny, the ground cover has nothing to do with them. Instead, prickly,
deadlooking bushes decorate the desert forest floor. Perspective definitely changes in this forest.
Our jaunt through the park gave us an awesome view of the most tempting rocks ever -- the type of rocks that you just want to jump onto and climb around like you were a kid, the type that crush the voices inside your head saying, "You could slip and fall," "That's too high," "Watch your footing!" These rocks are rounded and deliberate, with traction naturally adorning every surface. They're perfect for butt climbing, which basically means scooting along like a sissy on your rear end so you don't lose your balance. I happen to be a professional butt climber.
We made our way through the park looking for a campsite, but since we didn't make a reservation and since we were getting there in the afternoon, we couldn't find a single place to camp. The good thing about not finding a campsite was that we drove through the whole park and were able to check out all it had to offer. The bad part was that we had to head to overflow camping, which is usually sans campfire and near the interstate. At the last campsite inside the park's boundaries, we girls used the Secret while the boys used the opposite of the secret, and we ended up scoring the last possible campsite in the whole entire park. Out came the
Tecate to celebrate.
We set up our tents and decided to wander around the surrounding desert. Mack harvested some
Jojaba nuts, sampled the strength of Yucca rope and shared his findings with those of us too lazy to read the informational plaques. "The desert was a supermarket for Indians because of all the things it has in it. Did you hear that
Genovive, the hippie designer on
Trading Spaces, died of breast cancer?" I secretly gave thanks for supermarkets, because if I had to spend the day hiking through a desert for a few bitter nuts and some prickly grapes to make soup, I would be a very tired, whiny Indian.
Jordan & Jolia in the aisles of the supermarket
We walked to Cottonwood Spring, which is a really real oasis in the middle of the desert. I'd always thought of an oasis as something in the Road Runner cartoons where it's really hot and you see the mirage of a pond with three palm trees next to it and you hurry to it and alas, it's nothing. Turns out, an oasis is three palm trees next to a little pond in the middle of the desert. It really exists. Who knew?
On the way back from our hike, I saw my first official moon rise. I'd seen the moon in the sky during the day before, but I'd never seen it actually come up on the horizon. For it to be day with the sun still up and to have a big full moon coming up over the rocks and the desert was surreal.
The day before we went hiking there was a major fire in the Hollywood Hills, and the smoke ended up following us to Joshua Tree. It made for a really amazing sky at sunset, which made up for the full moon robbing us of the stars you typically see at night in the desert.
After cooking vegan
hotdogs and corn on the cob over the fire and going to sleep in a haze of
Tecate, we woke up the next morning to do some more rock climbing and to explore the
chollo cactuses we'd driven past on our expedition to find a campsite. The
chollo cactuses seemed to sprout up unexpectedly in one little patch of desert. We walked along the established path and leaned in close to take photos of their
spikey little berries.
Jolia posed for a picture at one point, but she leaned in a bit too close. The
chollo cactus is called the "teddy bear cactus." If you get just close enough to it, it's baseball-sized spheres of spikes will jump into your skin and latch on for dear life.
Jolia caught one on the elbow, and since it was funny at first, Jordan started to take photos of it. When we tried to pull it out with a handkerchief and that wasn't working, and then we tried to pull it out with a canvas bag and that wasn't working, we knew we had problems.
Why won't this cactus come out, Mack? "Well, each spike has a microscopic hook at its end that digs into the flesh, making it extremely difficult and painful to remove. Have you heard of this new disease called
zombitis where people have very violent post-death outbursts and lash out for a few seconds after they die?"
Jolia summoned her inner man and we muscled the wad of pain and difficulty out of her elbow with an oven
mit. She still had about 10 stubborn spikes setting up permanent residence, so she summoned her inner superhero and started yanking them out ON HER OWN.
The desert was pretty humbling, but seeing
Jolia wrestle it, that was inspiring.
Our last stop in the park was called Key's View or Key Outlook or something like that. I don't know but I'm sure Mack read the sign. It was amazing. All these valleys collided beneath the desert and made for a panorama worth the drive, the gas money, the cactus sacrifice and the sleeping on the ground.
They eat about a feeder of food every two days, and when I don't refill it, they ignore me for a day or two, but I've definitely made some feathered friends. My favorite is one we call "Mutant Eye," a little tan finch with a huge bulge on his left eye. I can't tell if he has an eye because he moves so quick, but his defect has certainly made him endearing. We've also got red heads and orange heads and spotty ones. There have also been a couple of doves strutting around and a hummingbird that zips by these orange flowers in the back yard. It's no nature sanctuary by any means, but it's better than dirt mounds and rebar wires.
