As I stared out across the vast, shimmering and motionless basin, my eyes focused upon the various triangular-shaped boulder piles that seemed to fill the wide space in a haphazard fashion. How did this current topography, this current face of the desert come to be? I could not help but to wonder what amazing forces must have been in play in order for this corner of Joshua Tree National Park to look the way that it did.




Over 100 million years ago, according to the Joshua Tree Visitor Guide available at any entrance station, there were dynamic processes at work that helped to create the visionary wonders of the park. One very helpful image discussed in the guide was the analogy of a melting ice cube. Like the cube removed from the ice tray and placed on a counter, it begins to "morph" shapes from square to slightly rounded on the edges. Although it happens much faster with the ice cube example, bring that image to bare on the rocky material that makes up the base of the park.




Like a slowly melting ice cube (over millions of years slow), the monzogranite pieces of crust that came up from under the surface of the earth began to get worn away by forces of water and wind. I found it an amazing epiphany to realize that even arid climates that are nearly devoid of water, deserts biomes such as Joshua Tree, the single most driving force of change is still water. Wind plays a secondary role in the erosional process that etched away these monzogranite chunks into what remains: astoundingly precarious stacks and piles of boulders and rocks that are seemingly divine creations for rock climbers.




Just by listening to some of the names that these eroded earth crust formations have been given allows one to get a sense of how special they can be for the average hiker in Joshua Tree. Names like: Wonderland of Rocks, Split Rock, Jumbo Rocks, Cap Rock, Skull Rock, and Arch Rock.




As the sun began to descend and the heat of the desert afternoon subsided into a more bearable temperature there became more movement among the underbrush. I found a place to sit in the yellow and brown sand of the Mojave to watch the ancient, timeless desert progress into a continuum that has been going on for thousands of years.

I felt like I was swept up into my surroundings, almost as if I was not a living, breathing and locomotive being, but a part of the rocks, shrubs, cacti and million grains of sand. My meditative state was so deep and my movement so non-existent that a family of Gambel's quail began to chatter and fuss about. Not even the papa quail, with his drooping, red ball coming off the middle of his forehead like a pseudo-unicorn horn, could sense my presence. I was seamlessly intertwined with my surroundings, and that was fine with me.




ER Harris

Part Two