Joshua Tree National Park: Nooks and Crannies for Backpackers

The Days

Despite our country’s passion for such invaluable landmarks as 16,000 Starbucks and 13,000 McDonald’s, we have managed to set aside a large amount of land as wilderness –– picture the entirety of the Sierra Nevada’s National Forests, National Parks, and Wilderness Areas, or, say, the majority of Alaska.

Compared to these, Joshua Tree National Park is rather modest: a small pocket of desert less than one-fifth the size of Death Valley. Yet its essence is uncontainable. First of all, it has no center, nor any clearly defined end-to-end route. No singular attraction, such as El Capitan or Mount Denali, encapsulates it. It is more a state of mind, which goes some way to explaining its affiliation with drug culture. Both are departures from the norm — journeys without destinations. I myself was guilty, during my wayward years, of traveling to Joshua Tree a number of times specifically to watch it melt.

Joshua Tree is a playground not only for the chemically refreshed, but also for rock climbers, history buffs, and hikers alike. This is in part because of its modest size. Get your hands on a vehicle — preferably one you have a legal right to — and much of the park can be accessed within a ninety minute drive. Only five minutes beyond the west entrance lies the Bigfoot Trail, which may at first seem mundane, positioned as it is along the throughway and often cluttered with sightseers eager to snap their first selfie against the park’s iconic landscape. But persist another mile and you are thrust into the thick of it. Or, this being the high desert, I should say the immeasurable emptiness of it. In short order you’ll gain a number of high perches with grand sights across the flats to the aptly named Wonderland of Rocks, which is precisely where I was once viciously attacked by bees.