“The desert wears… a veil of mystery. Motionless and silent it evokes in us an elusive hint of something unknown, unknowable, about to be revealed.”-Edward Abbey

We had debated whether to camp inside the park or outside. Camping at Joshua Tree is a hugely popular activity, the weather at this time of the year is ideal and that means the weekends are jammed. The camp sites inside the boundaries of the park are first come first serve which means we had a good shot at camping inside if we show up early on Monday morning. We decided to book at a campground that took reservations for one night right outside the park, Black Rock Campground.

I had been anticipating camping at Joshua Tree for some time.  The place where the Mojave & Colorado desert meet is fascinating in its unique diversity of plants and geology.  I had heard that it was perfect camping conditions too; dry, sunny, warm mornings, cool nights. We pulled into Black Rock in the early afternoon, the site I had reserved was scenic beyond expectations. I was stoked, booking a site based on a tiny thumbnail photo is always sketchy. The space was surprisingly roomy, framed by two healthy Joshua Trees on a plateau that afforded a panoramic view over the valley and the mountains in the distance. Another cool thing about this campground is that there is a ranger station on sight. At the start of our trip, we relied more on books and maps to plan out hikes. We quickly came to realize that rangers are seasoned and reliable resources so the first thing we did was consult the ranger about best hikes in the area. Turns out, there were several terrific day hikes right from our campground. We had decided to cook a big pot of chili so it would last us several nights. I also made grilled chicken and israeli couscous for our trail lunches (It’s become our go-to meals).  As the light began to wane, the sun fading behind the mountain behind us lit up the sky with a fiery display. The shadows of the spiny leaves of the Joshua Tree transformed into intricate sculptural spindles. In the corner of my eye I saw a figure pass through our campground in the twilight. Two coyotes trotted silently past, pausing to look at us and continuing on. That night, we would be awakened(and every night thereafter) by the lonely chorus of a pack of wolves so close to our camper it sent chills down my spine as I lay there transfixed.

With the daylight savings, the nights grew a deep shade of dark by 5:30pm. There are no streetlights and the ambient light is minimal so the night skies here are renowned for their stargazing. Mark would light a fire and when the embers would burn down, I would lie with my head back and stare upwards until the stars would emerge in detail, the misty milky way creating a film of light directly above me.  Mornings dawned bright and warm by 5:45am. Cactus wrens would welcome our sleepy eyes and bed hair with playful chirps, hopping around the picnic table and chairs.  We sat watching the sun brighten the white spines of the chollo cactus and the golden sagebrush. I’ll think of these idyllic dry desert mornings come winter in Michigan.

On our first drive through Joshua Tree, the air was crisp with azure skies. There are two wonderful things about this national park. First, is the namesake Joshua Tree, named by the Mormons  when they settled here. Seussian and surreal, it is actually a member of the yucca family, a desert cactus not a tree.  It reminded them of the biblical Joshua, arms outstretched in supplication, a harbinger of encouragement to keep moving westward. The high desert is a story of survival and the Joshua Tree, ugly and harsh in its appearance, is a thing of beauty when you understand its role in the ecosystem of the Mojave. It harbors all manners of insects and birds, home to a wide cross section of animals. Secondly, the massive jumbo rocks that are scattered like children’s building blocks throughout the desert are surprising and delightful. The rocks are prime climbing habitat for those crazy risk-taking rock climbers and for the rest of us they call us to be children again, scrambling and jumping from rock to rock, finding high perches and peering into hidden crevasses. A hike through this desert landscape is a study in texture and  form. The hikes from our campground afforded us a walk through the entire ecosystem of the desert, it’s a microclimate where plant and animal species thrive.  Cactus like the Yucca, Parry Nolina, and Ocatillo exist side by side with the Pinon Pine, mormon tea, and Juniper Trees.

We made the decision to stay at Black Rock Campground for the week, the drive into the park was minimal and we developed a fondness for our site and the relative peace and quiet of our space. Each day we would get to Joshua Tree early so as to bag a few hikes before noon. The hikes here are for the most part short but geologically interesting with a few incongruous surprises thrown in. Jumbo Rocks is the classic hike, a path that meanders through the giant blocks. We also enjoyed an interesting hike through the Wonderland of Rocks(yes! its really called that) out to an abandoned mine where old rusted cars and machinery were scattered throughout the desert, creating a scene out of a post-apocalyptic film. The juxtaposition of the dilapidated hulks with the greenery of the cactus was caused me to  think about humanity’s lasting impact on the natural world.  Another trek we loved was the 49 Palms Oasis Trail. A dry and exposed path over a high mountain descends into a valley where there exists an astonishing sight, a mirage; a grouping of gorgeous greenery,  towering California Desert Fan palms  thriving in the dry hot desert. Apparently, an underground spring is the source of this wondrous spectacle. Finally, we hiked into an old dam built by a rancher by the name of Barker in the early 1900’s. The park’s only lake exists here, drawing all kinds of migratory birds. The setting is especially scenic due to the sheer monzonite granite cliffs rising up on all sides of the lake.  These are the last vestiges of man-made design, reminders of a bygone time when settlers attempted to conquer the desert and eke out a living, whether it be ranching or mining.

On our fourth day, we had visitors! Our old traveling buddies from Michigan, Keith & Sue happened to be in California doing their own road trip and our paths crossed. We have travelled with our friends before, to Cambodia, Vietnam and a Caribbean island. It had been awhile though, and we were thrilled they could join us for a few days here. Keith & Sue were able to rent an airbnb just a mile from the campground, lucky for us. A hot shower and much needed laundry were made possible thanks to the generosity of our buddies. We were very excited to share the camaraderie of easy friendship over the next few days. Keith & Sue are like family without the sometimes freighted history that comes with siblings. We spent a few days exploring a few more hikes, scrambling among the rocks, sitting around the campfire enjoying much laughter and conversation.

My time in the desert quieted my mind and uncovered both time and desire to notice the infinitesimal details; the deep crenelations in the mature bark of a Joshua Tree, the bluish silver starbursts of the chollo cactus needles, the dusty gold buds of the sagebrush. Not everyone loves the desert, it’s so dry my nose bled daily. Dust finds it way into your mouth and behind your ears. The heat can drive you indoors seeking shade and shelter. Yet for me, the fact that the desert is very much alive, that you have to look beyond the harshness to a deeper reality, one that celebrates and honors tenacity and perserverance is deeply hopeful and inspiring. There are lessons for my own life in the daily struggle for survival here. I know that I must return for the beautiful display of spring wildflowers on the fields of cacti.  Is there no better metaphor for what we seek in life?

We left the Redwoods National Park and spent the morning exploring the California coast, we had booked a campground on the Mendocino Coast thinking we would like to explore the town. We took our time driving there, Rt 101 was becoming increasingly curvy. It was a blue sky day and we stopped in Fort Bragg to explore the Botanical Gardens there. This place BLEW MY MIND. The temperature dropped suddenly and the fog rolled in which greatly enhanced the experience. First, keep in mind coastal California  is Zone 9, so the crazy variety of perennials, heathers, and succulents that they are able to cultivate is staggering. I was unaccustomed to seeing such vibrant blooms in October. We spent a few hours wandering the extensive grounds and I had a blast taking photos and dreaming of planting such a garden in my own backyard.

Unfortunately, the day was getting on and we needed to get to our site. We passed Mendocino figuring we would return tomorrow to explore, the road was slow going, winding, with sharp angular turns and steep cliff sides with no guard rails. The fog thickened, slowing our pace. By the time we rolled into the campsite it was gloomy and damp. We quickly set up camp and ate our leftovers intending to call it an early night. KOA’s re usually great places to stay. Family friendly, amenities, quiet hours.  At 2am I was awakened by loud drunken cursing which proceeded throughout the night, a young couple deciding to air their grievances in the quiet confines of our little campground. UGH.  First time, I  guess we’ve been lucky. Usually, the KOA has people paroling the grounds, but it was off season and there was no one around.

We were both cranky when we hooked up to leave in the morning. As we were making our way to Mendocino in the still thick as soup fog, we looked at each other and said, forget this! Let’s go find some sunshine. And that’s how we found ourselves in the hot and sunny Anderson Valley doing a day of wine tasting. This was completely NOT on our itinerary and what a pleasant diversion it turned out to be. The day was the complete opposite of what was going on at the coast and we were ecstatic, pulling off our layers and thick socks and changing into flip flops. It felt so good to be HOT. We had not experienced this kind of weather since we had begun. We tasted wines at Handley Cellars and Roederer Estates, stocking up on wines for Thanksgiving. The topic of conversation was the wine country fires, of course. The devastation to the south was very much on everyone’s minds. Strange to say, there was some annoyance at the media for ignoring another raging fire just to the north of the Anderson Valley, the Pocket fire which burned over 17,000 acres. We met a couple wine tasting who were just returning to their home in Sonoma, their house had been spared, not so their neighbors. It was sobering to talk with those who lived and worked there, the level of empathy for the absolute destruction of property and loss of life was palpable.

We ended up at a campground outside Healdsburg which was a big disappointment, little dirt patches with giant rigs, not our speed, so we nixed that and found a  room at the Best Western in Healdsburg, where we parked the camper(it had been 6 days in the Cricket) and took a dip in the pool. The downtown was just a mile away so we walked from our hotel and enjoyed a fine meal at the Dry Creek Kitchen. I like this town, it was lively and the streets were organized around a lit up central square, a common design in old California towns.  Signs in every window pronounced Wine Country Strong and most of the restaurants were offering free meals to firefighters. In fact, the place we ate had an abbreviated shortlist menu, suppliers were not back up to speed after the devastation of the wildfires. People were out and about enjoying the evening, apparently the air quality from the Santa Rosa fires had kept most indoors over the last few weeks, not to mention the fear and anxiety over the vulnerability of this community to the winds.

In the morning, we walked back into town to visit the Farmer’s Market, one of my favorite things to do. I love discovering the local fruits and veggies unique to the region and here we found gorgeous burnt orange  persimmons and  golden yellow quinces. Mushrooms of every size and variety and huge slabs of fresh fish in big tubs of ice. Across the street we discovered a fantastic place, The Shed. Market, cafe, and community gathering space, it exists to connect consumers to the local bounty and provide guidance and workshops around growing, preparing and sharing food. We spent a full hour here perusing the enticing selection of artisan foods and produce, an in house larder featuring cured meats, house made pickles, preserved fish,  a fermentation bar, a mill where they ground and bagged their own grains and spices.  The cafe serves food grown within a 10 mile radius of the kitchen, with a pledge to support small family ranchers and farmers. I was in heaven, each person we talked to who worked there was passionate about food and filled with information on how to cook with their products. It is so affirming and inspiring to patronize entrepreneurial wonders like this place that values community and collaboration.

We were due in Sacramento for the weekend, having scheduled a visit to see an old friend from Mark’s residency days in Chicago. Brian & Jan graciously offered for us to stay with them  for a few days, I was looking forward to a staying in a home and all the comforts that entailed.  Our route took us through Santa Rosa, and we saw firsthand the horrendous aftermath of the fires right from the highway. We skirted the Napa/Sonoma region but passed by many blackened and scorched fields.  It made me so sad to see such violent rendering of a beautiful place. Everyone seems hopeful and talk of rebuilding and getting tourists to come back were paramount.  But the magnitude of this conflagration was staggering: 7500 structures destroyed, 22 deaths.  With all the astounding natural beauty we have seen on this trip, it is a sobering reminder that Mother Nature can destroy as well.

-It has occurred to me that we have spent 30 days or 720 hours breathing fresh air. We prepare and eat our meals al fresco, hike the wild spaces and sleep with the chill of night and the night sounds of forests and meadows blowing in the screen windows of the Cricket. Sleeping has been surprisingly satisfying, no doubt a result of the daily exertions of hiking. This constant exposure to nature and its sensual effects of sound and smell on your mind and body changes you. It’s subtle magic, it works to slow my pace and live consciously. I do not know how I am going to return to a Michigan winter, where I tend to burrow.

-These past weeks have also been action-packed, we have moved often, setting up and dismantling camp enough that it is becoming second nature. It’s been weeks of a lot of learning and a few frustrations as well. Compromise has become an operative word. Luckily, Mark and I are simpatico over most things. We eat at similar times, we are not bothered by a little dirt and less then clean camp showers. We are good at agreeing on spur of the moment changes to our itinerary. We both enjoy long and challenging hikes and crave the afternoon beer break at exactly the same time.  Let’s be real: we are together 24/7, it’s not always sunshine and flowers. It seems that the one area in which we are vastly different is our early morning and evening biorhythms. Mark is an early riser, I have amended my habits and now awaken with him(I mean, we are living in a closet sized space) but I like to take a leisurely start to the morning with my tea and toast. Mark is usually outside the camper making his coffee. If it’s a cold morning, he’s ready to go and start the day. That’s worked itself out but the biggest hurdle has been the evenings. Camp nights end early as I have discovered. Meal prep, campfire, nightcap, and my travel partner is ready to curl up and call it a night. I have always gotten a second wind late at night. At home, I can putz round the house, play music, and have the freedom and space to move around. While for the most part on this trip, I will use those later hours to read or write, occasionally I have a desperate need to whoop it up. The campground is quiet, Mark is snoozing, and I’m craving a dance party. But I’m stuck inside a tiny home with no external stimuli. It’s only happened a few times, but I’ve wanted to scream and shout when it has. Our stops in towns has assuaged the need somewhat, allowing me to dip into some culture, live music and loud conversations with people.

-I realized something today. We have a robust itinerary and by nature, when I visit a place, I want to see and do everything on offer. I’ve come to understand that I need to forego this desire to be a tourist and check off the guidebook Top Ten. I met a man today who has been living out of his van for 8 months, he jokingly called us newbies. But we both understood almost immediately the allure of the untethered life, the freedom of the open road. The gentleman, who was sporting a t-shirt claiming him to be a wiffle ball champion which sparked a side conversation about the value of the forgotten sport, looked at me knowingly and said, Just wait. It’s an addiction. I think I am beginning to get a taste for it.

-I have noticed that people will do absolutely anything, put themselves through horrendous uphill slogs, cross treacherous streams, climb granite cliffs, hike 15 miles, drive way far out of their way, brave wind, slippery rocks and 90 degree temps for TWO things. Waterfalls & Sunsets. It amazes me.  It doesn’t matter if they are 90 or 10 years old, if they have a 50lb pack or a baby on their back, they could be limping with a cane, or never hiked a day in their life. If there is a remote waterfall(don’t matter how big or small) or an incredible sunset vista, the trail is crowded. I’ve seen with my own eyes the will humans have to witness beauty. It is deeply inspiring.

-Ladies: remember these three letters. FUD. Female Urination Device. Sounds gross right?I must share a device that has changed my hiking life, this little piece of blue molded plastic that has rocked my world.  It is my #1 most useful item I have brought along on this trip. Bottom Line: I can PEE in the woods standing up. There is something no less than revolutionary about this. Let’s consider this: I have been squatting in the woods, in awkward places, my entire life, legs burning, waiting to drip dry, cold breezes chilling the nether regions.  I was given this thing(Thanks Deb!) that changed my life and honestly, initially I was turned off by it. Like, I’m supposed to cup my genitals in a narrow plastic trough and let it go and expect all to be well. As if, there will be no leakage or accidents. And we women, we don’t like accidents. So, the first time you use this thing, it’s an alternate universe. By some act of faith, you are standing and performing an act only men heretofore have had the convenience of  doing. No squatting, no wet shoes or exposed rears. I think Mark misses pulling his well worn ruse when he is my lookout and he pretends someone’s coming and I get all panicked and scrambling about. I have to admit…it feels a little bit powerful. Like the world equilibrates for just a little while.

-Mary Oliver is a worthy companion for walks in the woods and by the coast. It took me until halfway through, a rainy day and a postage stamp sized bookstore to find Ms. Oliver and invite her on my travels. I’ve found her musings to be provocative in their simplicity. If I forget to notice the purple violets or the dew on a pine needle, the delicate spider web on the mossy branch, the crusted barnacles under the rock, or the brilliant lime green spines of the underwater anemone, Ms. Oliver returns my senses to me.  Her words gently admonish me to pay attention.

-Best Moments: And they are moments, fleeting and beautiful in their brevity. Arrival in smoke and orange dusk in the Badlands, first homemade pot of chili on Blue Bell Campground in Custer State Park, Sunset on Devils Tower, discovering a remote hot spring on a trek in Idaho, glimpsing the snow covered Tetons coming down the pass, Jenny Lake in the late afternoon sun, black bear sighting on the backroads in the Tetons, falling asleep to the sound of a bull elk bugling outside our Cricket in Yellowstone, spectacular colors on the Blue Lake hike in the Cascades, observing a massive herd of Elk enter the meadow at Mountain Home Lodge in Leavenworth, first glimpse of the Pacific at Kalaloch Campground in the Olympics, black bear encounter in the Hoh, tide pooling on Ruby Beach in the Olympic, cooking fresh crab sauce in camp on the coast of Oregon, playing trivia with the locals at McGregor’s whiskey bar, biking on the Beach Road in Manzanita. Not to mention all the wonderful people we have shared stories and time with. Who knows what best moments lie around the next bend?

-What I miss after 6 weeks on the road: my kids. We talk often and we group text but my heart aches to hug them and laugh with them. My longing for family time does sometimes make me wistful.  Girl Time: I miss my friends and the shared goofy times and deep conversations and talks only a female companion can understand and provide. My kitchen: I miss cooking in my home. Femininity: I miss wearing something other then the same hiking clothes day after day, I miss dressing up and wearing heels. I miss fashion, though I don’t miss shopping, at least not yet. Despite these things, I embrace another six weeks on the road. The gifts I am receiving daily are opening up something in my soul I have been craving. Fulfillment comes in many forms, I’m beginning to learn that.