No Camera Necessary

The third night of my stay was decision time. I had said from the start that I'd go to Joshua Tree and then wherever I wanted. Death Valley was a possibility, as was Sequoia National Park and a return to Big Sur. By day three, the decision was easy. Death Valley? Too long a drive. Big Sur? Ditto. Sequoia? Too cold. So that was that. I stayed.

The next morning I moved out of Jumbo Rocks campground, which, with about a hundred and fifty campsites, was beginning to feel like a Walmart parking lot. I moved a few miles down the road to White Tank campground. It was like discovering Paradise. There are only fifteen sites, no room for big RVs. My new site was nestled among boulders that offer coziness and character (and shade!). To the west, I had an unmarred view of the mojave desert.

Evening view from my campsite in Paradise

I celebrated my move by driving to the town of Joshua Tree and having lunch and free wi-fi at the Park Rock Café. Then, lest I get too soft, I took a strenuous hike to Forty-Nine Palms Oasis.

Good lunch & free wi-fi

Forty-Nine Palms Oasis

The next day, I took another break from the desert and drove to Palm Springs. Palm Springs is Carmel-by-the-Sea all grown up and moved to the desert. I had a good hamburguesa mexicana (with lots of guacamole!) and two chilled Dos Equis on a patio too cute for words - trellised vines, flowers and checked table cloths. After lunch, I took in the Palm Springs Art Museum, which all by itself was worth the drive. For me, it rivaled the Musée d'Orsay in Paris and the Van Gogh Museum in Amsterdam.

I took the day off from photography, so if you want pictures of Palm Springs, you'll just have to google it yourself. Speaking of not taking photos, I've taken plenty this trip. You're seeing a tiny fraction of them. But I have not taken many photos that I may have taken a few years ago. I've come to understand that you just can't capture it all. There are many times in the wilderness, whether it's on a sunny desert trail or in a canoe on a pristine northwoods lake, when a photograph cannot do the job, when it is sacrilegious to try to capture the beauty of nature's cathedral. One just has to stop moving and and fill one's mind and and senses and be grateful for the blessing of being there.

Listen to the wind, to the song of a cactus wren or the late night howl of a coyote, to the splash of a fish leaping for dinner, to the scampering of a critter in the rocks. Inhale the fragrance of blooming flowers, or the smell of bacon cooking on an open fire. Feel the ache in your tired legs as you reach the summit or in your weary shoulders after a day of paddling a canoe. Feel the desert sun's warmth on your back and the relief of a drink of water. Feel the chill as you force yourself out of your sleeping bag in the morning. Pick wild blueberries and eat them right on the spot. And look. From a mountaintop, look at the desert that stretches to eternity. Look up at the infinite blue sky. Look down at the flower by your foot, at the lizard scurrying under a rock. Study up close the spines of a cactus. Marvel at the play of sunlight on quivering aspen leaves.

Look at your sun-darkened skin. Listen to your breathing. Feel your heart beat. Take it all in. No camera necessary.