May 31, 2024
I am smitten with Joshua Tree National Park. I’ve been there twice, in November 2022 and March 2024, for photography workshops. I could go back again and again. I feel a sense of urgency; the park’s namesake is being threatened by climate change and pollution.
The whimsical Dr. Seus-like Joshua trees are not trees at all but a member of the agave family of succulents. They grow to 15-40 feet tall, with a diameter of 1–3 feet. They can take up to 50 years to reach full size. https://www.nps.gov/jotr/learn/nature/jtrees.htm. A fire in 2023 chewed through stands of Joshua, torching their tops and potentially incinerating their roots. Park officials fear that millions may have been burned in the fire.
I find the park quite approachable and altogether unique. The drive up into the park from the little town of Joshua Tree in the Coachella Valley fills me with excited anticipation.
I love the rock formations. Their rounded shapes appear smooth and invite scrambling around on them. The biggest peril aside from losing your balance and taking a tumble is getting hands and legs roughed up by their weathered granite surfaces.
I love the trails. There are plenty of them, and most are easy to navigate, with something interesting around every corner. If the parking lots and small campgrounds fill up, which they often do, just park on the side of the road and go wandering. The Hidden Valley trail is one of my favorites, because it’s, well, hidden.
Trails are useful for getting to interesting places, but it’s easy to become engrossed in the wonders before you and wander off them and become disoriented, which of course I did. I was gloriously unconcerned meandering about photographing, reveling in feeling “lost” but not lost, with a vague sense of where I was. As the afternoon wore on, I figured I better head back to the car. Eventually I came upon a trail and followed it back to the road. By that time, everyone else had left except one other person who had become similarly disoriented and was trudging along alone. I joined her for the long walk back to our cars. I was rewarded for my tardiness by witnessing a stunning sunset over the many layers of terrain on my drive down out of the park.
The rock formations tell stories, their narratives changing with the light. I made up names for several that got my attention: the guardian of the way, the sunbather, the fist with fingers, the leaning tree. Images I made of them are in my Joshua Tree gallery. https://www.judyannejohnsonphotography.com/blank-3-1-1-1-1-1-1-1-1-1-1-1-1-1-1-1-1-1
Of the many cacti that grow in the park, the chollas are my favorite. I do adore those cute fuzzy plants that populate the Cholla Garden as far as the eye can see. Lovely to look at, they hide a nasty secret. Those fuzzy parts have one-direction barbs. Care must be taken when strolling casually among them. Rumor has it their barbs jump onto careless passersby who venture too close and cling to shoes, clothes, and skin, requiring tweezers, patience, and tolerance for pain to remove. On my second trip there, it appeared to be cholla calving season. Cute little cholla balls littered the ground like rejected tennis balls (the Wimbledon effect). I can testify that they jumped onto my hiking boots; they didn't penetrate, but boot first aid was required.
The light! It’s all magical, but in the full light of day I think I like the high overcast the best. It softens the lines of the rocks and reveals detail. Toward evening the low position of the sun reveals layers of landscape and turns the world pink, purple and mauve. When darkness comes, joshuas become fantastical silhouettes. Next time, I will stay for the stars.
Judy
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