What Is It About The Desert

You don’t pitch somebody on going to the desert for a vacation like you pitch going to a beach. 

You just don’t. 

But then again, my wife and I have probably spent more time on Jersey beaches in the dead of winter at this point than in the summer, so a mid-spring desert vacation is as on-theme as they come. 

I can’t sell you on this, so I’ve got a few observations. 

When we got out of our rental car and were walking towards our cabin, I ducked like the helicopter from the “California Love” video was cutting in over our heads. 

You know what it was? Two birds. Probably 50 feet away. And I could hear every flap of each of their wings like they were next to my ears. Sound travels different out there.  

In my precious cowboy books and movies, when they mention how some character “can see a man on horse from 17 miles away” - I’ve always thought, “Ha, fiction! Fun.” 

But then you go to the desert and from halfway up a mountain, you gaze down into a valley and realize, I just saw a car, or maybe even a bike(?) turn on a road that might be 10 miles from me. Holy crap. I am about two eye doctor “is this better” clicks away from legally blind. And I just saw that?! Light travels different out there. 

You know when you go into the shade on a summer day and the shade is 10 degrees cooler? In the desert, the sun is a magnifying glass. Before the sunrise, I was bundled up and feeling like I was on the moon cold. With the first break of light, the first beam to hit me, I could feel it. I swear, a 30 degree shift, all in a single ray of light. 

Within an hour I was in a t-shirt, sipping coffee, reading a book, on our patio, in that light. It was 65 degrees out and it felt like 85 in the sun. I had to go put sunscreen on because I noticed my right arm was starting to burn. 

Then there’s the wildlife. No snakes, mountain lions, or coyotes on this trip (thank the gods), but the animals - it’s so cool to see what lives, let alone survives out there. 

My 3-year-old niece has a pair of shoes she calls her “fast shoes.” They look fast, ok? They make her fast. They make her faster when she puts them on. It’s a fact. And you wouldn’t argue that truth with her. Now, I can’t tell you how fast roadrunners actually go, but I can tell you, they look fast. “Fast birds.” That’s what roadrunners are. My niece understands if you don’t. Also, they’re shorter than the cartoon, which is modestly disappointing, but evolutionarily sensible.

Jack rabbits too. Those ears. Those eyes. They’re the best chocolate easter bunny source material (Sally Forth understands). Jack rabbits, which I really want to write as Jack Rabbits but I’m resisting, they’re all ears with a small, muscled-up-dog of a body. They’re cute, but they take the “I see and hear everything” vibe to a whole new aesthetic level.

Cacti. And all the plants, really. We’re walking through this cactus garden in Joshua Tree, just taking it in, when we notice how a patch of the plants seem half-dead. Later that night, in a book on desert plants, we find out it’s a protective measure. The black and dead part is just to concentrate available water to another part of the plant temporarily. How’s that for an evolutionary party trick? 

Then there’s the Joshua Trees themselves. I used to call them Dr. Seuss trees. For obvious reasons. I still will, but now I realize, pretty much all the plants out there look Seussian. The environment shapes what grows there, and what grows there shapes the feeling of the environment. It is cartoonish, but in a sometimes truth is stranger than fiction way.

I could keep going - but I want to leave you with this:

The Joshua Tree mostly exists in the Mojave desert. It has no growth rings. Its roots go sideways, and there are cases of them stretching out 30+ feet from main trunk of the tree. 

Joshua trees are unique to a space and environment. But in that environment, no two are alike. 

Is there a metaphor in there? Try a million. Pick your own. 

This was my first adventure into a desert, it won’t be my last. 

(Thanks Valle for saying THIS IS WHERE WE NEED TO GO NEXT, you were right). 

A few photos, and an obligatory song:

Well, the way I thought of the California desert is forever changed. Or, at least, now there are two of them etched on my brain.