Back from the Desert

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I was greeted by creatures on my first desert day— a happy rock monster and a Spiny Lizard sunning himself on a rock.  

Life on the desert is not crowded.  With scarcity and a generous gift of space, it seems more important, standing bold and brave against the contrast of sand and rock.  

No other hikers around, just me, no heavy thoughts or insights.  Instead, I feel the heat and wind, the sun and aromas of natural things.  My senses are at work, but my brain is on idle.  Living so close to the nature tunes in subtleties of touch and sight.  In the city I learn to block out a barking dog, the distant freeway and radios.  Out here it’s as if my hearing aid were turned up to high and my nose as good as a dog’s, my sight as good as a hawk’s.  I am more awake.

 

I try to sort out all that has happened to me in the last few hours.  The great stone face gives me a skeptical look.   

I set up the little tent that I’ve often used in backcountry, a bivvy sack really, which gives protection from bugs and rain.  I crawled inside and stretched out on top of my sleeping bag and pad in 96 degree heat at 9pm.    

I soon came out of that hothouse and put the foam pad and sleeping bag on top of the collapsed tent, hoping the breeze would help me to sleep.  But a fly came buzzing around my head, then another.  

Sunset at Campsite

I must admit that the ceiling was lovely that night, near-full moon, bright orange mars beside it, millions of stars seemed large and near, moving on some stately surface that surrounds me like a shell.  The kind of night sky that falls on a desert like this is inconceivable to a Pasadena stay-at-home.  But little sleep came, and at first light the thermometer had only fallen to 86.   

The most aggravating part of camping out there was not the heat but these tiny balls of thorns, about an inch across; they are nearly invisible as they blend in with the desert sand.  Touching one is like a mosquito bite, but you don’t dare swat; it just drives the tiny thorns in deeper. 

These pillow rocks look comfortable enough to sleep on after a sleepless night, but I’m heading out of the wilderness today, back to 29-Palms.     

It takes passion, a strong desire, to carry me through hard times.  I have come so far and gone through so much to get here.  In spite of difficulties, I was the only one in this pristine part of the wilderness.  Every half-turn of my head presented another idyllic desert scene.