Joshua Tree National Park

In the shadow of California's Transverse Ranges lies an arid sanctuary of almost unearthly beauty, a wilderness of exotic desert plants and sunblazed boulders, of craggy mountains and boundless shimmering plains, of sun and wind and stone. In this unforgiving clime, stillness and solitude reign. Stop and listen, and only the wind fills your ears; look about, and you will behold a land where nothing seems to move except the clouds, scudding across a sky of endless cobalt blue. Rugged though they may be, these 793,000 acres of southern California desert wilderness, Joshua Tree National Park, are nothing if not mesmerizing.

The park is named for the fantastical Joshua tree, without a doubt its most fascinating resident. Growing to a height of 40 feet, this huge yucca (which, technically, is not a tree at all) seems to assume as many poses as a runway model. Its trunk bristles with a grizzled bark; from its twisted branches sprout clusters of fibrous green leaves, as pointed as paring knives, and in spring, fat white blossoms. The oldest among these trees were, at 800 years, already ancient when the Pilgrims landed. Explorer John Fremont called them "stiff and ungraceful... the most repulsive trees in the vegetable kingdom." But not all the reviews have been so negative. Crossing this region en route from Utah in 1851, some Mormon pioneers are said to have seen a grove of these twisted giants and found in their shape a hopeful beckoning, an image of the prophet Joshua, raising his arms to lead them to a promised land. The story is fanciful, but the name has stuck.

The desert, high and low
In fact, Joshua Tree National Park comprises portions of not one desert but two. The differences are many, but boil down to elevation. The northern and western parts of the park lie in the southern range of the Mojave, or high desert, which extends all the way to Nevada. It is here that one finds Joshua trees, which thrive on the extremes of temperature and the hard winter freezes between 3,000 and 5,000 feet.

Here, the land is also littered with astonishing rock formations. Exposed to the forces of erosion, masses of ancient granite have been splintered into shapes of all descriptions and polished to a fine finish. Rising like islands from the pebbly desert floor, they are as plump as marshmallows. Whether as small as a grapefruit or as big as a stadium, standing alone or massed in improbable piles, they are especially breathtaking at sunset, when their polished faces seem to reflect all the colors of the sky.

Many a visitor has detected in the rocks weathered surfaces the images of long-lost relatives, and some of the more intriguing formations are named for their evocative shapes. Skull Rock, in the Jumbo Rocks area, looks just as you'd expect, while Southern California's legion of rock climbers flocks to Hidden Valley to scale the slickened heights of Trojan Head, Rock Hudson, and Old Woman.

Because of its greater elevation, the Mojave is generally cooler and wetter than the low-lying, eastern portion of the park. An average of four to seven inches of rain falls each year (usually in a few quick bursts), and there are occasional snowfalls in winter; summertime temperatures, although hardly mild, are at least endurable, usually in the 90s. (At the highest elevations, above 5,000 feet, things get downright chilly even in summer; the vegetation is dominated not by Joshua trees but by pinyon pines, common throughout the West.)

Moving southeast, the land tips like a ramp toward the Pinto Basin, briefly passing through a transitional zone known as the Wilson Canyon. In this area, roughly between 3,000 and 4,000 feet, it is not uncommon to see creosote bushes and palm trees, both natives of the low desert, growing beside high-country junipers and Joshua trees.

Below 3,000 feet, the Colorado Desert officially takes the stage. This arid expanse, a subdivision of the Great Sonoran Desert, is considerably bleaker and more foreboding than its upcountry cousin. Seared by the sun and blasted by scorching winds, its rocky washes and cactus fields recede to a shimmering horizon. Less than three inches of rain fall here each year, and summertime temperatures routinely hit 110ºF. But looks can be deceiving. Ravaged though it may appear, the park's low desert region supports an array of plants that in many ways surpass those of the high desert. Creosote bush, smoke tree, mesquite, ironwood, ocotillo, paloverde, and cacti (dozens of types) are among the many hardy plants that have adapted to this torturous clime.

Islands of green, an abundance of life
Water, in general, runs deep underground at Joshua Tree, but here and there it emerges at the surface, where it nurtures life. Five such oases can be found within the park, although only two actually have water flowing at the surface: Cottonwood Springs, in the low desert near the park's southern entrance, and 49 Palms Oasis, accessed by a steep trail off Highway 62. Ringed by lush banks of cottonwoods, colorful barrel cacti, rustling fanpalms, even cattails, these miniature gardens are virtual terraria compared with the surrounding desert, and they attract birds and animals from miles around, including the park's population of rare peninsular bighorn sheep. (49 Palms Oasis is considered the best spot to see one; try to visit in the early morning or late afternoon, when the desert wildlife is most active.)

Life, however, is by no means limited to these scattered islands of green. Although at times it may seem the stillest, most forbidding place on Earth, the desert fairly hums with activity. Mountain lions and bobcats pace the rocky ledges of the high desert; roadrunners dart from underfoot, chasing snakes and lizards to feed upon; from atop the outstretched limbs of the spiny Joshua tree, red-tailed hawks coolly survey the landscape, then launch themselves with a flurry of wings to dive and seize their prey. The spring rains come, and then one day the desert is abloom with color, as all the wildflowers seem to burst open at once. Like a delicate web, life in the desert endures, each strand connected to the others and forming a magnificent whole.