Joshua Tree

GALLERY

story

This isn’t my first rodeo at Joshua Tree. Living in Los Angeles, especially with outdoorsy friends, means that once every couple of years someone is throwing an event out there. In my early twenties gatherings centered around rock climbing, camping, or psychedelics. Later in life they shifted to comfortable and hiply decorated AirBnBs for weekend getaways. I’d been to the Joshua Tree area half a dozen times, but had mysteriously neglected seeing the sights in the park - a wrong I felt needed to be remedied.

Planning for this trip mostly revolved around watching the weather. Winter into early spring is peak season, so there was no shot of reserving a camp site for a four day period. The plan was to check out the three first-come campsites inside the park (Hidden Valley, Belle, White Tank), with a backup to camp on BLM land - a dried up lake bed with free dispersed camping. I don’t mind the lack of campsite amenities on public land, but wanted to find a window with reasonable temperatures, low wind, and clear skies for night photography. It took five weeks for the stars to align, and Karen happened to be out of town for work in NYC.

I packed up the truck on Wednesday night, hoping to beat the Thursday morning rush hour and keep my (very low) chances of finding a site inside of the park alive. In typical fashion I left an hour and a half later than intended but was in good spirits - energized by a French press of Ethiopian light roast, thick-cut bacon, and yogurt parfait.

Getting out of LA was smooth sailing. Riverside sits halfway to J-Tree, so I pulled off of the highway to fill the cooler with groceries and buy firewood. In hindsight I ignored some warning signs here - budget grocery store, next to a highway underpass, only one other car in the parking lot. The type of place where your mind swings between feeling uncomfortable and repeating “it’ll be fine - stop being paranoid.” Surprisingly the store had what I needed (including my bougie Icelandic yogurt), but while in line to check out the cashier saved me:

“You should go outside. They’re casing your truck”

Sure enough three men in black hoodies were climbing on my truck - one of them inside of the bed moving my gear around.

“HEY!”

That’s all I thought to shout, but it worked well enough. They hopped off the truck, got into a blacked out Honda Accord, and sped off. I decided not to call the police because (1) I still had all my things and (2) I didn’t have any identifying information. No license plate. No description. It would have been a waste of time, and in the end I got what I came for. The cashier deserves a raise.

keys ranch

I rolled through the park entrance at noon and b-lined it to Hidden Valley Campground - the largest and closest first-come site in the park. Like many National Parks (and international borders), Joshua Tree feels distinctly different the instant you cross the border. Thousands of Joshua trees line the road, their limbs angled off in every direction. Sprawling, alien rock formations fill in the horizon, covered by humans climbing up to the top. The number of children climbing the rocks was noteworthy, and their joy felt contagious. I smiled and texted Karen, “I LOVE NATIONAL PARKS,” and stopped to snap a photo of one of my favorite trees. “Y?” It asks.

Unsurprisingly the campground said “FULL”. Without much hope I did a lap around the camp - they weren’t lying. Every site was taken, and I was surprised by how many of them had fully built out $100K+ camper vans with starlink setups. I suppose that becomes more convenient with larger families, but the amount of high-end gear felt different from my las visit pre-covid. I’m not one to judge though - I’m literally looking at Starlink prices while I type this up. My view is that the creature comforts make it easier to enjoy nature for longer - you just have to be cognizant of how much time you give to them.

I did plan one thing ahead - a guided tour of Key’s Ranch, hosted by NPS. After striking out on campsites I continued down the road to the turnoff, a dirt road with “reservations only” plastered across the entry gate. The drive in was beautiful - a single lane, well maintained dirt road meandering through rows of Joshua trees, with a couple of turn-offs for popular rock climbing sites. The road terminated in a locked gate and a sign that said “Tour starts here.” I arrived 30 minutes before the 1:00 PM reservation, so hung out as others drove in and introduced themselves.

“That looks fancy. Name’s Tom”

Grizzled and full-beared, Tom jumped out of his clown car Smart car. He must have been 6’7”, his head brushing the roof liner in the front seat. A sticker on the back of the miniature car read “THE BEAST.” What a character.

“Yeah I tend to eat pretty healthy, even on the road,” I replied. I had pre-packed a kale caesar with assorted veggies, lemon slices, and some pumpkin seeds. You can generally spot my “LA” from a mile away. “Where are you from?”

“Portland,” he said, his tone suggesting this was obvious. In hindsight it was - his hat said “Keep Portland Weird,” and he was certainly doing his part.

Tom had been living out of his Smart car for three months, touring along the West coast and Southwestern national parks. The route seemed pretty nonsensical - skipping back and forth between landmarks with no apparent loop. He seemed less interested in his travel story and more interested in my dirt bike, launching into his own motorcycle journey from a young age. Older dirt bike guys love dual sports, and I can relate.

At 1:00 PM on the dot ranger Marc opened the gate and ushered everyone to drive on to the Ranch. I thanked Tom for his story and joined the line in.

The tour was fascinating. I’ll admit I am a sucker for history, but I do think the reservation is worth it and the experience genuinely educational. The narrative follows the story of William “Bill” Keys, an early white settler to the Joshua Tree area driven west by the Homestead Act of 1862 and the California gold rush. After traveling to the town of TwentyNine Palms Bill became acquainted with the outlaw miner and original settler of the ranch, Jim McHaney. He assumed ownership after Jim died, and expanded the property with new structures and technology up until his own death in 1969.

I won’t go through the entire history, but wanted to share some of the more interesting facts about Bill and the property:

Jim McHaney used dynamite to blast reservoirs into the surrounding rock formations to hold rainwater. Bill later built a well and windmill to pump water from the ground and these rock reservoirs, supplying continuous water to himself, his family/guests, and his mining operation. Bill made many improvements, including automating mining operations, erecting guest houses for tourists, and cultivating a large and well-stocked garden.
Bill Keys was convicted of murder in 1943 after a feud with a neighbor, Worth Bagley, ended in a fatal shootout. He served time but was later pardoned in 1948, with Bill claiming to have shot in self defense. Locals still question his version of events, and out of spite Bill carved a tombstone at the murder site that reads “Here is where Worth Bagley bit the dust at the hand of W.F. Keys May 11, 1943”
Bill traveled to Hollywood in 1918 and married Francis M. Lawton, a 22 year old telegraph operator, by convincing her that he was a wealthy gold miner / land owner. They married in LA with the property sight-unseen, and Francis quickly realized the ranch was more rustic and remote than she imagined. Having no means to travel home, she stuck with him and eventually came to love the ranch.

As we went through the property I was torn on whether Bill was a badass or a scoundrel - you at least had to admire his resourcefulness and ingenuity. This is a harsh place to homestead.

BARKER’S DAM AND HIDDEN VALLEY

The tour ended and we paraded out on the same one-lane road. The mid-day heat was starting to taper off, so I parked at the end of the road and unloaded the bike - it was just too tempting to ride in the open air, and with the license plate I can ride anywhere cars can. The first order of business was to rip back and forth on Key’s Ranch Road and take in the scene. This is one of the least trafficked one-lanes in the area, so I managed to get up to 6th gear wide open a couple times, the desert air wicking away my sweat from standing in the mid-day sun.

Heart rate raised and body cooled down, I moved on to the Barker’s Dam trailhead. The plan for day one was to hit the easy main hikes and take in sites. The hike into the dam is marked by the classic Joshua Tree aesthetic - desert plants, J-Trees, and large boulder formations. The dam itself is severely underwhelming - a simple structure built by 19th century miners to create a reservoir. The reservoir has long-since dried, leaving just a dilapidated concrete wall. I climbed up a rock formation to see if there was a better view, and found one. From the higher vantage point I could see the valley - sprawling with trees.

I could also see an original “grinding stone” area, with a few other hikers gathered nearby.

“This full-on looks like a vagina,” remarked a teenage boy.

“Adam!” his mother looked horrified

“Kind of right though,” teased his dad.

I sided with the teenager on this one, and chuckled from my perch up on the rocks.

The valley floor was more interesting than the dam. At the lowest altitudes the details of the desert come into tighter focus. Two inch diameter holes dotted the valley floor, burrowed from nocturnal mice. Cactus flowers had sprouted on the healthier plants, popping with color against the muted background. The trees were larger (and older) here, with a sign noting that the largest trees were about 350 years old - pretty impressive for a desert-dweller. I continued along the trail, stopping to shoot anything I found interesting.

Towards the end of the loop trail I found the petroglyphs - images painted onto the rock by Native American settlers. A sign noted that these are actually not original - vandals had painted over the originals with modern paint in an attempt to “restore” them, but this was not sanctioned by NPS. Either way it was cool to see evidence of nomadic life here.

I moved on to Hidden Valley trailhead two miles down the road. This is the most popular trail in the park and it was golden hour, so the parking lot was packed. I was happy to be on the bike and easily nuzzled between two cars to find a spot, a big perk of riding over driving. “Hidden Valley” is surrounded by boulders and was “discovered” by our old friend Bill Keys, who used dynamite to blast an opening in the rock, allowing his cattle to graze the untouched valley inside. I put “discovered” in quotes here because there is ample evidence of Native American settlement before his time.

The valley inside felt unique and was a pleasing combination of trees, wildlife, and rock formations. It was also an extremely popular rock climbing spot. Spinning 360 I counted twelve different climbing groups, all close to or at the top their climb. Tourists unfamiliar with climbing stopped and stared. Fellow climbers cheered them on. The valley was teeming with people, so I often had to wait 5-10 minutes before getting a clear enough image to photograph, and I gladly helped half a dozen groups take photos of their own.

PUBLIC LAND

I left Hidden Valley and started the journey out of the park to my camp for the night. The location is free public land and was tucked back behind some (largely vacant) private plots. I felt like I was trespassing on the road in from all the “no trespassing” signs and barking dogs, but Google reassured me this was the right direction. The road terminated into a large dry lakebed with a tiny flag marked “BLM.”

I drove out to the middle of the lake to get some privacy. A couple of other vehicles dotted the horizon, but compared to the National Park the place was empty. Setting up camp with the roof top tent took all of five minutes - I just opened it and pulled down the ladder. That being said, I re-did this twice to make sure that the hard shell portion of the tent was pointed into the wind. The lake bed was completely featureless, so the unbroken wind was hitting 30 mph. A stereotypically stunning desert sunset marked the end of the day.

This isn’t a review of iKamper in particular, but I will say that the roof top tent (which is new!) is a major improvement over sleeping on the ground. The hard shell blocked the wind. The mattress is comfortable and doesn’t deflate in the middle of the night. Being off the ground makes you much warmer. It feels more like a home as compared to a ground tent, and with good weather I think I could spend up to 7 days before getting too salty. Tougher people could go for weeks with a few more things bolted to the truck. There are some downsides (peeing is more annoying), but the setup and living experience made me happy.

I slept like a baby.

DAY TWO

Just outside of BLM land I stumbled into a coffee shop. The place was hip - good branding, airstream parked out back, Photo Booth sitting in a large outdoor area. The name “Maso Menos” means “more or less,” and it was more or less Abbot Kinney. I ordered a latte, a breakfast burrito, and an Italian cold cut sandwich to throw in the cooler for lunch.

Both the coffee and the burritos were stand-outs. The burrito came stuffed with chilaquiles, which I thought was brilliantly innovative. As I ate another solo traveller struck up a conversation,

“Hello my man. How’s your morning?”

“Going great. You want some company?”

I moved my breakfast to his table and we started sharing stories. Joe Carey hailed from Phoenix, a musician set on getting away from the city for the weekend. He was relaxed and easy to talk to - 45 minutes flew by as we discussed travel, technology, and philosophy. He seemed just as interested in the future (eg. AI, robotics, how humans interact with tech) as I am, and we parted ways after a long and fruitful discussion. I figured this would be the last time I saw him, but we crossed paths again the next morning and I took his advice to visit Giant Rock - a trip I’ll discuss later on in this post. We parted ways and I headed back to the park.

The first stop inside the park was Ryan Mountain - the tallest peak in Joshua Tree at 5,457’ and best way to get a panoramic view. The hike is rated as “hard” on AllTrails and is a steep grade, but at only 3 miles out and back it felt more moderate. The view along the way gave you a good sense of the size of the park - not quite the level of Death Valley but certainly big enough to get lost. Across the valley the white-capped peaks of the San Bernardino mountains dwarfed Ryan mountain, with the tallest (San Gorgonio) pulling the most attention.

The top of the hike had a nice sitting and photo area, covered by dozens of rock piles formed by humans. I particularly liked this one, which gave me real “sorting hat” vibes and had some appealing proportions.

I descended alongside a group of rowdy kids, took a quick snack break for blueberries, and continued down the road. My next destination was intended to be the Cholla Cactus Garden, but signs along the way informed me it was closed for restoration. I pulled an audible and continued on to “Arch Rock,”one of the more photogenic locations. The hike in is flat and easy - a quick 0.3 miles. Given the accessibility the trail was chock full of people, with tons of kids. I could see why - this location had some of the best scrambling opportunities. From a quarter mile away you could hear a chorus of parents nervously asking their kids to “come back!”, “get down from there!”, and “be careful!”

I climbed over the rocks myself to scope out the area. The more sites I saw the more context I gathered for why the named features are named. In most cases there is nothing geologically or ecologically special - they are the same rocks and trees, but seem to just have the right proportions. You find yourself thinking, “That’s a nice rock,” but not sure of why.

Once again I had to be patient to get a clean shot. You get used to it, but when it is this crowed it seems like someone always comes in frame at the last second. It’s just part of the game. I liked this shot of arch rock, noting it would look awesome with a star-studded night sky as the background rather than wispy clouds. I decided I would come back after dark.

ARE THERE REALLY 49 PALMS?

Before leaving LA I ran a quick instagram search on Joshua Tree and found that every influencer under the sun talked about the forty-nine palms oasis trail. Short clips flooded the internet of “finding oasis in the desert,” with cute girls posing under a wall of lush green palm trees.

After the tenth video I was starting to think it actually wasn’t a “hidden gem,” but people tend to like things because they’re cool and the five mile hike offered the right amount of challenge. It is a little off of the beaten path - the trailhead requires you to exit the park through the east entrance into the town of Twentynine Palms and circle around to a gate specifically for this hike. As a result the parking lot was completely empty at 4:00 PM, which was alright with me.

I got all geared up and found a big sign at the trailhead that read “DO NOT HIKE ALONE. THIS HIKE HAS THE MOST RESCUES OF ANY HIKE IN THE PARK.”

I understood what NPS was going for here. The route is completely exposed (no shade) and is a reverse hike - meaning you go down on the way in and back up on the way out. On a hot summer day I could see folks struggling on the steep return and needing rescue. It is also rated as “moderate,” which deters fewer people. I had my GPS device and the weather was pleasant, so I ignored the sign and began walking alone.

The first 1.5 miles looks like normal J-Tree landscape - barren rock covered with desert plants. It did have some above-average elevation change for the area, and it was clear I was traversing down into a canyon. I came around a corner to see fans of green palms swaying in the wind, and genuinely did think it was cool. The scene feels severely out of place, like humans must have done this. A quick google search confirms - humans planted the trees, likely as a visual indicator to mark the location of the (naturally occurring) fresh water spring.

As I got closer I felt highly motivated to count the palms to see if the name is rooted in reality. Four separate counts returned 46, 45, 47, and 47 palms, and I decided that it was close enough that whoever named the place must have actually counted 49, with the number naturally varying from drought, wildlife, and wildfire.

The spring water is there but stagnant - about a dozen foot-deep pools filled with algae, water-skippers, and mosquitos. There is no “running water” off of the hills - the water comes up from the ground through a fault line, feeding the trees but not creating an “oasis” for humans. To summarize I would say:

Yes there are about 49 palms
Yes it is very cool and worth visiting
No you cannot swim or drink the water
The hike in the summer would be tough

NIGHT LIFE

I’ve written about Pioneertown a couple of times (see here). Tucked away in Yucca Valley, the western-style town is a well-done but inauthentic take on life in the 19th century. Founded in 1946 by a crew of Hollywood folks—including cowboy legends Roy Rogers and Gene Autry—it was designed as a living, breathing 1880s-style movie set. The town still feels performative, but the local roadhouse “Pappy & Harriettes” has hosted a wide array of musical acts on Friday and Saturday nights.

After the palms I needed to kill time before heading back into the park for a night photography session. I browsed the live music schedule for Pappy’s from my phone - “Western swing.” Seemed fun, and I could use a steak.

I pulled into Pioneertown and parked. On my right was a beat up camper van custom painted with peace signs, flowers, and Joshua trees - the owner strumming acoustic Pink Floyd. On my left a brand new Tesla model Y, complete with yuppies in gorpcore. Classic. Desperately needing to change into new clothes, I pulled my shirt off on the van-side and slipped on my one “going out” outfit.

The restaurant was jam-packed and the hostess looked stressed:

“Just me tonight”

“Right now the wait for a table is two hours, but it’s first-come at the bar”

“Oof - I’ll take my chances”

I moved to the bar and scoped out who to make friends with. The bartender noticed and pointed towards a couple paying their bill. I swooped in and grabbed a seat, cutting my wait time from two hours to two minutes. The bartender was all over it.

“What can I get for you?”

I wanted something fresh so started off with a mezcal Margherita and struck up a conversation with the bartender. Julie had worked bar at Pappy’s for twenty years, and had a lot to say about the changes over the years.

“These LA folks come in wanting fancy cocktails - I don’t know how to make most of them.”

I admitted to being one of those LA folks. She laughed and pointed me to the other bartender, noting that he had just won the Yucca Valley cocktail competition - a local contest between all bartenders in the greater Joshua Tree area. I asked him if I could order the winning cocktail, and he lit up. “Of course!”

A woman to my left piped up, “I’ll take one too!” and I took the opportunity to strike up a conversation.

“What’s your name?”

“Margot”

“What brings you to Pioneertown?”

She straightened in her chair and launched into a long narrative going back two years, simultaneously teaching me and assuring herself about her life path. Two years ago she was working as a performer in Jumbo’s Clown Room, a strip club / performance arts space in Los Angeles. Like many in LA she hoped to use that gig to launch into the music industry, and thumbed through a book at the bar called “How to Make it in the Music Industry.” She was in Joshua Tree to meet a producer, and seemed excited about the possibilities. I was happy for her.

Our drinks arrived and the bartender explained how to consume it,

“Drink a few sips, then eat the flower on top of the drink. The flower is an electric daisy - it will change your pallette, then drink more.”

We followed the instructions. The drink itself was excellent, a fresh and herbaceous mezcal-based cocktail served chilled in a coupe. I then ate the flower, and immediately felt a tingling, numb sensation in my mouth. Five minutes in the sensation had peaked, and my mouth was almost entirely numb, to the point that it was slurring my speech. We both thought it was one of the more interesting (and cool) cocktail experiences in recent memory, and I googled “Where do I buy electric daisies?”

One more cocktail and 16 ounces of rib-eye later I was stuffed and the sun had fallen, so I said my good-byes and headed back into the park.

The night-time photoshoot was a bust. Sadly the clouds never cleared, so after waiting two hours at the arch rock trailhead I threw in the towel, with two other photographers following suit. I internally debated extending my trip to wait for clear skies, but eventually decided I should stick the the plan. This would be my last night in the BLM camping spot, and I was headed to Giant Rock and some open dirt bike tracks in the morning.

GIANT ROCK

I had never heard of Giant Rock but trusted my new friend Joe and decided to check it out. The road in is a wash-boarded desert two-track. I wouldn’t quite call it “4x4 required,” but would recommend a car or SUV with above-average ground clearance. With the bike hanging off the back I was slow to travel the five miles, my soft truck suspension rocking the cantilevered weight back and forth behind me.

The road terminated into a large open clearing, and sure enough there is a seven-story “Giant Rock” positioned in the shadow of a larger hill. Large rock formations are common - a single boulder this big is not. I parked the truck to get a shot capturing relative size, and scrambled up the hill to get the alien-shaped boulder from above.

I arrived at high noon so the area was empty, but as the day wore on a crowd developed. Mariachi music blasted from groups of side-by-sides sporting Mexican and American flags. RVs of families with kids parked to hang out for the day. The area felt like a gathering point, so I decided to set up camp and pull the bike off of the truck.

Riding around Giant Rock is as good as any open desert - infinite miles of sandy trails and rocky hill climbs. I blasted around for a few hours, working up a sweat and taking a few glamour shots.

In typical fashion I had bougie trails snacks, and whipped up a yogurt parfait with fresh strawberries, blueberries, blackberries, and cinnamon granola. An older couple noticed and came by to chat,

“That looks amazing. We just have peanut butter and jelly”

“Want some?”

I made them a bowl and we sat to eat. They weren’t particularly talkative, and seemed flustered by the heat and the open desert. Five silent minutes of eating later they handed back the bowls, said “Thank you,” and walked back to their car. The reality of life is that not every encounter is interesting.

I ripped around for another hour, taking in the scene and testing my own limits. Grin on my face and legs burnt out, I packed up and began the long journey home.