'The vastness of the sky': encountering the desert for the first time

While living in L.A., I’d been hearing about this thing — “the desert.” Seemed a bit odd to someone who lived on the Westside next to the ocean, but OK, you can also see mountains from my house, so why not throw in an entire landscape food group?

A few years ago, I figured it was time to try it out, and my family and I headed to Joshua Tree for the weekend.

We began driving east and were soon in that vast no man’s land around the 10 Freeway. On one side, I could see a moving train, with all those boxcars. I was watching, entranced, waiting to see it go past. And it kept going. And going. It was like a vibrant desert serpent, wending its way through the landscape, each boxcar a different hue. It seemed so romantic, and then I thought “in each one, there’s a whole load of hanging car air fresheners, dental floss and Japanese waving cats” and suddenly the spell was broken. Ah well.

The eerie, alien Joshua Tree.

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Sean Gallup/Getty Images,

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Getty Images North America

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As we got nearer, I said “Huh, what's that weird thing that looks like an alien?” and my husband said, “Yes, that’s a Joshua Tree.”

What? Wait, stop the car. There’s an actual Joshua Tree? First, who knew, and second, that is no tree. That, sir, is a weird misshapen cactus, with multiple crooked arms reaching into the air, each with its own spiky fur muff. Kinda like one of those waving inflatable guys if they were static. (Ah, I've been in L.A. too long).

Bougie smores

The vast desert sky.

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Steve Holtzman

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Courtesy Suzanne Levy

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We finally arrived at our destination, a campsite — OK, a glamping campsite, a whole bunch of airstream trailers laid out with firepits. I knew it was bougie when I went to buy a smores kit from the shop and came back with 70% dark chocolate, artisanal graham crackers and single origin marshmallows. (I made that marshmallow one up, but it really is just a matter of time).

We made a fire, marveling at the gorgeousness of the sunset, the morphing colors and the vastness of the sky. I sat afterwards watching the flames, the cold air on my skin, under a blanket of stars. Tears pricked my eyes.

In the morning we headed to Joshua Tree National Park. When we got out of the car, the vista hit me, with that bright, bright sun, strange looking rocky outcrops, and nothing but Joshua trees as far as the eye could see. I thought: I have never seen anything like this. I couldn’t have even imagined something like this. In London, if you go on a day trip, you can go back in time, say to the thatched roofs of the Cotswolds — but not to a different planet.

What an extraordinary continent this is, I think. I am awestruck by its endless, varied landscapes — the plains, the Rockies, the oceans and the forests. And there’s something particular about the desert — its simplicity, its reduction to just three or four elements, which relaxes you, chills you out.

I remember heading back to L.A. after the weekend, happy and mellow, smiling as we drove west into the setting sun. It’s a cliche, but the desert does call you back. And I hope to get back there very soon.