Description

The California desert is hideous and stunning at the same time. At first glance, it's barren, dusty, trashy, and unbearably hot. How the Sun follows one around like a stray dog. It's low in the sky too. Here the Sun is closer to the Earth than anywhere else; my guess is that it's no more than 500 feet above one's head. That's what it feels like at any rate. That ball of fire is relentless, nipping at your heels from about 7 - 7. At night, the sun leaves no residual warmth; it just disappears until the following day when it rises and repeats its horrendous behavior. 

The Earth here is a dull, soft, brown color - faded and exhausted from the Sun's daily beating. It's dry, and it's hard, and it's wrinkled - the skin of a sun-drenched leather hag. And while, at first glance, the desert appears to be a giant field of parched sand, a closer inspection reveals that plants actually grow here and there. Spindly creosote bushes are in no short supply, unfriendly cacti pepper the landscape, and the occasional but very welcome mesquite tree blesses the area with some much-needed shade. All the plants are a muted shade of green, fading into a muted tan background of sand quite seamlessly. You hardly know they're there. However, at one or two specific altitudes, the rare Joshua Tree pops up and takes over the landscape. What a funky desert denizen! This tree you notice; this tree you remember. It's not an actual tree; it's more of a Yucca gone wild, branching out this way and that way with no apparent rhyme or reason - never taller than 20 feet, never wider than 5. The Joshua Tree is pure magic. It'll definitely make you smile.

Where there are plants, there are animals, and this desert is no exception. These animals make-up the typical desert fauna - coyotes, rabbits, lizards, snakes, big horn sheep - you get the picture. Most of them are quite shy. Most of them avoid contact with humans; they keep to themselves. The ones that don't, the lizards and the rabbits, have turned my garden into their personal salad bar, brazenly mowing down my plants the minute my back is turned (and sometimes when it's not turned). It's really quite disheartening.

Of course there are people here too, hence, the trash. Here there are few rules and no HOAs. And some folks just go nuts. They get quite creative - in my humble opinion, stretching the boundaries of what we call "art". Many a yard is decorated with what could only be described as garbage - stuff that in any other region would make its way to the local landfill post haste. What kind of stuff? Stuff that can withstand the Sun's relentless stare - glass, concrete, and metal. Wood breaks down in this harsh environment, and organic matter dries up and blows away. So, desert art is characterized by broken glass, rusty metal, and cracked concrete. Desert art doesn't err on the side of subtlety. On the contrary, it's quite garish. Some folks might say it adds to the charm of the place. I am not one of those folks.

I am only here for the rocks - the beautiful, beautiful, beautiful rocks. The rocks that are characterized by perfect splitter cracks, forged from millennia of wind and water. The rocks that are blessed with sticky grainy textures bourn from a unique combination of quartz and potassium. How I love them! I love everything about them. I love the way they form a stunning backdrop to the otherwise dull, drab landscape. I love how they offer protective shade from the sun's burning omni-presence. I love how they provide a habitat to the more exotic desert animals, the sheep and the birds of prey, who, otherwise, might not live here.  But most of all, I love to climb them. I love the challenge, and I love the fear, and I love the comradery of the climb. So, much like the long-horned sheep and great-horned owl, were it not for those gorgeous, unique, desert rocks, I would never, ever come here.

The climb itself is a ritual, a communion with the sacred. It is a testament to patience, skill, control, and fortitude. It is mind over matter; it is great problem solving; it is a contest of will and concentration. There is nothing like it on Earth - nothing that I've discovered at any rate. The higher one climbs, the more the mundane world seems to disappear. Nothing matters but the climber and the rock - the unpaid bills don't matter; the failing relationships don't matter; the nagging insecurities don't matter. Every concern of the physical world melts away, and all that exists is the rock and you. And that's all that has ever and will ever exit. It is a strange and a beautiful freedom.

Photos