Many years ago I overhead someone talking about their "amazing" trip to Joshua Tree National Park. When I combined that reference with what I read in a biography of Jim Morrison and the fact that U2 named an album after the arboreal species, well, that called for a sojourn to the desert!




I knew going in that this southeastern California destination was a rock climbing Mecca, but that might be understating it. Thousands of climbers come to pay homage to the odd shaped boulder piles and ragged, dusty peaks each year. The best time for climbing is early Spring and Fall, before or after the real doomsday heat turns the 558,000 acres of "saved" landscape into a brutal wasteland.

My preference is a modified form of rock climbing called bouldering, where there is no equipment necessary. By hopping from one giant boulder to another, climbing up and down the stacks without the aid of equipment like ropes, hammers and bolts one can enjoy a more freestyle method of getting around on the rocky surfaces.




Bouldering is more instinctual, and when you get going in a rhythm there is little calculation or concern for moves down the line. Everything focuses on the next boot step or hand grab.

I respect the climbing community immensely, however. Please refer to an interview conducted last year at outdoor-weblog.com with Chris Bloch, a four-time X Games Silver Medalist and avid free climber.




As my first afternoon in the park began to wane, I sat in perfect silence underneath an outcropping of rocks in a field of ocotillo and various other cacti. Black birds with a white stripe on their backs (that I would later come to find were Swifts) began a seemingly precarious dive-bombing procession over the air where I sat quietly. It was quite a display. Joshua Tree National Park is a great place for bird watching. There is literally every single letter in the alphabet represented by a different kind of bird that frequents the park.




The skies began to shift from deep blue to lighter version, and the clouds absorbed the waning sunlight refraction into all sorts of hues of red that shattered across the desert floor. I was awestruck. Here I was, a man who simply decided to extract himself from the fold of society and transplant himself into the heart of a desert world. At first glance I assumed there was little life out here in the water-less basin other than the aerial acrobatic dinosaur relatives who kept buzzing my head, probably in an effort to dissuade my advancing any closer to their otherwise hidden nest.




Jackrabbits began to dart around near the hour of true dusk, their powerful hind legs propelling them nearly airborne. There were so many crossings that some had to play the "if I don't move he can't see me" maneuver and allowed me to get pretty close with my obnoxious camera- wielding self.

What a privilege it was to be swept up into this fresh new experience of desert dusk in Joshua Tree National Park. I had finally made it, and I would be able to explore the park for the next few days at my leisure. Spring Break for me does not equal some nappy border town in Texas where they serve alcohol to anyone who wears little or no clothing. Nah. I would rather go out solo into a new biome and see what my mind's eye can illuminate.

ER Harris