We arrived at Joshua Tree National Park as the sun was setting. As we drove, the palm trees slowly shrank into the awkward, almost comical joshua trees. Mormon pioneers are said to have named this species “Joshua” tree because it mimicked the Old Testament prophet Joshua waving them, with upraised arms, on toward the promised land. I think it looked more like something from Dr Seuss.

We camped next to a cliff-like rock, surrounded by a playground of nooks and egg-shaped boulders.

We spent the next four days resting, maybe doing a short hike to Scull Rock or poking around the desert next to our campsite, but mostly reading, sitting by the fire, blinking at each other.

We happened upon a full moon, and, just like we remembered, it rose like the sunrise—illuminating the desert and the white rocky sand. 

The coyotes were relentless. At night, two would leave the pack and savagely bark outside our camper. We were pretty sure they were after Emmy—being that we let her roam the desert and play ball during the day. It was unnerving, and that night I opted to skip the fire, holding on to Emmy in the camper as they scratched at her pee spots and paced outside.

In the morning Mikey would find hundreds of prints circling our campsite.

Joshua Tree brought a lump of desolation in my belly—unless one fills one’s days with hiking and climbing, the park and its endless rocky hills can feel somber, detached. Perhaps it was because it was our first time alone since we’d had three weeks of family visiting, but we were ready to move on.

We contacted a friend in LA, found a Walmart to park at near the beach, and set off yet again. Here we go!