The Power of the Desert
It was the first time we had traveled since the coronavirus pandemic started. By then my office had become a room within my small apartment. It was common for me to work 10-hour days and not leave my home for several days at a time, especially in winter when temperatures in Minnesota commonly plunge to well below zero. Like many others, my world had gotten predictable and very, very small.
In order to boost our spirits during the long winter, my partner Steve and I decided to visit Palm Springs, California and then drive to the famous Joshua Tree National Park.
Joshua Tree has always seemed like a storybook place, the terrain so unlike what we’ve known in Minnesota with our dense forests and “10,000 lakes.” It was the mythic landscape from the album cover of the larger-than-life band, U2. For us, that other-worldly quality made it hard to believe it was reachable.
So when Steve said, when driving past the park’s welcome sign, “Wow. I never thought I would be here,” I knew what he meant.
We arrived on a windy day with a brilliant blue sky. When we stepped out of the rental car, we stepped into the dream of Joshua Tree.
I took a big, “we’re on vacation now” breath and smiled at Steve. He took my hand and we started our adventure. At 72 degrees, it was a full 95 degrees warmer than Minnesota. The sun’s heat was a blessing on our pale, white bodies. Greeting us was the famous trees which were dotted across the landscape. Each one had such different features, as if they had distinct personalities. Many were multi-branched, gnarled and bent. Others shot cleanly up to the sky, with their clusters of spiky leaves grouped at the top. We admired how one tree, through adaptation to the environment, could grow into so many variations. Their varied silhouettes cast shadows against the desert floor, doubling their drama.
As we hiked the dusty trails, we marveled at the expansive landscape. This was for me, the greatest gift of our visit. It’s hard to describe what a relief it was, after being inside and confined for so many months to be able to look for miles in every direction. It’s as if when I looked at the expanse, I also expanded, my body relaxing into the landscape. It felt like every part of me was being calmed by the wilderness. It reminded me why I need it, so that I can remember I’m part of something much bigger than I see in my daily life. That I belong to the ecosystem.
We continued to hike in wonder, admiring the topography, foliage and rock formations. We saw rocks assembled in curious patterns like they could fall down at any minute but in reality, they had been that way for hundreds or even thousands of years. We thought about the ranchers who created the Baker Loop Dam so their cattle might have water. We admired the petroglyphs and considered the native people who etched them, how ingenious they must have been to survive in the arid climate. After a while we found a good rock to sit on and just soak in the day, watching for the occasional bird.
By the time we left the park at the end of a long day of sun and hiking, we had been revived by the immensity of the desert. But also by the reminder that life can flourish in many different ways, which feels incredibly hopeful.
We made plans to visit the desert again next winter, so that when the world seems the coldest, we can get warm again.