Camping Alone: Spring Break at Joshua Tree

For weeks I’d dreamed of the desert. I’d drift off over a stack of grading, and the images would appear out of nowhere: red cactus, green Joshua Trees, golden rocks.

Spring Break came late this year, tied to a late-April Easter. I started for Joshua Tree on Sunday afternoon, the car full of grading and gear, and drove straight east into an orange moon that rose like a bridge over the highway ahead. I set up my tent by moonlight and spent a lazy morning in camp.

Later I drove up to Hidden Valley, remembering previous trips. The first was in 1980, when Rhiannon was a baby. In March of 1994, longing to be somewhere completely different – somewhere far from Douglas-fir trees – I put both girls in the van and drove south from Oregon, putting 2,800 miles on the car. We all climbed on the rocks.

Most memorably, I sought refuge at Joshua Tree when I learned – the morning after leaving Emily at her expensive LA college – that my editing job was ending. I trudged the Hidden Valley trail in the August heat, sand in my Birkenstocks, pondering the future. In fact, that loss pushed me to teach more classes, which eventually led to a full-time job – much closer to J-Tree, as Rhiannon and the other climbers call it. Now I could join them.

This time I knew to wear boots. I also knew where to find the first glimpse of a bright red Mojave mound cactus. Climbing a rock, I saw a distant barrel cactus with yellow flowers. But the sky was hazing over; the rocks seemed dull in the mid-day light.

By the second day, I’d figured out the rhythm. Up with the sun, and a morning of exploration while it was cool and the light was crisp. Then, as the sky bleached out and the rocks lost their texture, an afternoon of grading. Finally, more exploring as the boulders regained their golden evening glow. Or that was the theory.

In fact, the morning’s adventures tended to last till mid-afternoon, and the grading… well, yes, the grading. It’s always the same on these trips – I bring great intentions and a big stack of papers, and somehow it’s always too hot, too cold, too windy, too bright, too dark… and the same essays come back to town, unread. Maybe I should just cut the outings short and grade at home.

But this time I did fairly well. I actually worked during the afternoons, reminding myself that flat light means boring pictures. I sat at a shaded table at Cottonwood Springs, or in my own camp, or at a picnic area where foreign tourists scrambled up rocks. And I did finish one stack of essays. So that was progress, sort of.

More important were the hikes. I found cactus blooming – six kinds – and purple verbena and bright red paintbrush. I climbed Ryan Mountain and repeated the 49 Palms trail, lined with barrel cactus and chuckwalla lizards – a trail I’d once hiked with my friend Mary. This time, a talk with hikers on that trail led to a musical campfire evening. (Go where you want to go, and you’ll meet the people you want to meet.)

Sitting by my own fire on the last night, I thought about my first solo camping trip – three and a half weeks across the west in 2004. (See today’s other Blog entry.)

I haven’t done another trip that long, but since moving to California, it’s become a tradition to visit the desert over Spring Break: Death Valley, Organ Pipe in Arizona, Joshua Tree. Deserts have the earliest spring flowers, and I like camping where it’s warm. Camping alone in a wet Oregon forest just wouldn’t be the same.

Alone? “Aren’t you scared?” “Don’t you get bored?” No… it’s not scary, and I never run out of things to do. I do try to camp surrounded by friendly families. If I called for help, someone would hear me. But so far, I’ve never needed to shout.

National Park campgrounds are the best. At J-Tree’s Indian Cove, each camp backs onto its own slab of granite. The skyline fills with tiny people exploring giant boulders, as my own girls once did.

That last evening, I sat by my fire, alone but surrounded by humanity, and typed on my laptop. Nearby, the couple beyond my boulder sat by their own fire, flames lighting the rock behind them. Further away, someone beat a monotonous rhythm on a drum. At the group camp down the valley, cheers and shouts erupted at regular intervals.

I wanted to stay forever. Why go back? I had the wilderness, plus all the technology I needed: a laptop that usually worked, a good camera, a reliable Subaru full of rechargers….

But I knew it was time to deal with the rest of the semester. Still, I’m already thinking about the next trip. It’s nearly summer….