[Editor’s Note: This trip happened in February. The frozen desert is now the dry hot desert, but it still rules. Get out there.]

Joshua Tree National Park is nestled in the Mojave Desert of Southern California, a little over a hundred miles from Los Angeles on the Interstate 10 Highway headed east. It takes about two hours to get there on a weekday morning, after rush hour, when highways headed past the City of Industry to nowhere remain predominantly empty. As the California 62 Highway approaches in the distance, gargantuan white windmills that look like helicopter propellers lay scattered on the hillsides surrounding the roads. This is the wind farm of the San Gorgonio Pass, and the first indicator that the desert is nearby. Next come the Joshua trees. Binomial name Yucca brevifolia. Cartoon characters straight out of the mind of Theodor Seuss Geise. These spiky, tree-like organisms are everywhere, hence the name of the park, and synonymous with the image of the California desert. According to National Park Services, Mormon immigrants crossing the Colorado River named these silly guys “after the biblical figure, Joshua, seeing the limbs of the tree as outstretched in supplication, guiding the travelers westward.” Joshua trees remind me of those absurd inflatable tube dancers commonly seen at car dealerships, only frozen in ridiculous positions, arms raised in invitation to the wonders and magnificence of the Mojave.

And finally, the boulders. The otherworldly mounds of rocks so colossal they look as if they were purposely placed one on top of the other by mechanical cranes. The presence of these boulders is unbelievable, like a sight from another dimension, and yet there they are, a physical, tangible representation of the geological process of tectonic shifts in the Earth’s crust over millions of years.

(To geek out on some geology knowledge, watch below)

Still, despite its close proximity to the city, Joshua Tree National Park feels like another planet. And I don’t mean the topography. Not surprisingly, a lot of forests and deserts and natural escapes with waterfalls and hikes and trails are only a short drive away, no matter where you live. But we often find ourselves inhibited by practical realities of life, and driving to the desert on a whim can sound impractical, unfeasible, and unrealistic. The need for nature, the kind of nature you can get lost in, has never been stronger. If the pandemic has taught us anything it’s how to make better use of our time, and what better way to spend a day than a spontaneous trip to the desert.

A couple weeks ago, I did exactly that. Got in my car and drove to Joshua Tree National Park on a whim. The night before, it had snowed in the desert. As I scanned through my Instagram the next morning, gawking at photos of those silly looking Joshua trees covered in snow, beckoning and inviting me to the desert like iridescent ice sculptures, I knew I had to see them in real life. For myself. Not through a picture on a screen. Snow in the California desert is a paradox to our conditioned minds. Somehow the desert, though it is full of life, symbolizes the absence of it. To then see the absence of life buried beneath a blanket of white snow will take your breath away. There’s no equivalent to the desert in snowfall, the stillness it conjures despite the melting ice crystals falling from the sky. That day, I had no requirements to check emails or answer phone calls or any of those inhibitions from real life affecting my decision. My car had a full tank of gas. The weather app on my phone showed a bright yellow sun, meaning my chances of seeing snow on the ground were growing slimmer by the hour. The paradox of snow in the desert. I knew that the heat of the sun would melt the ice by the next day, and if I wanted to catch that rare, paradoxical glimpse, the time was now or never. I grabbed my camera and a water bottle and a joint for the road, and headed east. Two hours on the Interstate 10 Highway headed nowhere.

By the time I drove past the white windmills, past those very first Joshua trees, their inflatable tube poses making me smile, I felt like I had already achieved a great accomplishment. The sky was a clear, freezing, pale blue, with the slightest hint of dusty rose bouncing off the desert earth. Snowcapped mountaintops welcomed me in the distance. I bought an annual pass at the gate to the park, insistent that I’d return again soon, knowing that even one trip back justified an extra $25.00 over the $30.00 single vehicle rate. I thought of the entrance fee as a concert ticket – remember concerts? – and the boulders as the headlining band. Snow covered the ground and sprinkled over the boulders and rocks and other desert plants like powdered sugar. The Joshua trees stood frozen in their poses with stripes of snow streaked down their inviting arms. In that moment, those silly cartoon characters were my best friends, and a reminder of the intense power of nature in the time of solitude. –Maya Eslami