I’ve been backpacking for 33 years now. My older daughter is 25 and has grown into an outdoor-loving, free-spirited woman. A few years ago, while living in Boise, Idaho, she started backpacking on her own. She figured things out her way, which made sense to her, but she had never really had someone show her the lighter and simpler way to move through the backcountry.
She’s home for a couple of months before starting a new job in Montana, so we had a rare opportunity to get out on the trail together. I wasn’t quite sure what would happen when our backpacking worlds collided for the first time, but what happened was magic.
My daughter had never been to the desert before. While I’m probably 90 percent mountain man, I’m also about 10 percent desert rat. I’ve loved Joshua Tree since my college days in the 1990s, back when it was still a National Monument. Because it was early March, I was hoping for a spring bloom of wildflowers, plenty of solitude, warm but not hot days, and cool evenings. We ended up getting all of that and then some.
A few days before the trip we met to go over logistics. We talked through gear, menus, food preparation, and how we would pack everything. Her old pack was a 100 liter Kelty. Yes, you read that right. She had been filling that thing up for weekend trips. Before this trip I purchased her a REI Traverse 60, and honestly, after we packed it properly she probably could have gotten away with a 38-liter pack.
I picked her up at her mom’s house early Sunday morning and we began the eight-hour drive south. After a couple of Starbucks stops and the usual bathroom breaks, we turned onto Covington Flats Road for our first water drop. Joshua Tree had clearly received some recent rain, because muddy puddles dotted the road and my Bronco had a blast splashing through them.
When we reached Covington Flat I noticed something new—a recently installed bear locker filled with hikers’ water. No more hiding water in the desert and worrying about someone taking it or an animal chewing through the containers. We left four gallons of water in the locker and moved on to our next drop.
We entered the park and drove to Quail Springs Trailhead, where we loaded a daypack with water and hiked out into the desert. After driving for so long it felt great just to stretch our legs and walk. We soon found a spot where we knew we would intersect the route again in a couple of days. After carefully walking through the desert, we tucked the water into some creosote bushes, marked the waypoint on my Garmin, and headed back to the car.
With the logistics finished, we spent the afternoon sightseeing through the park and drove up to Keys View for sunset. As always, it was beautiful.
After that we were ready for dinner, so we headed to my favorite pre-trip stop, the Joshua Tree Saloon, for a burger. The locals were out in force, and Anna got her first taste of the wonderfully eclectic crowd that makes Joshua Tree such a unique place.
After dinner we checked into our hotel, relaxed, and got a good night’s sleep before the real adventure began.
The 6:00 a.m. alarm came quickly. Soon we were packed, coffee and breakfast burritos in hand, and driving to the trailhead at Black Rock Campground. The first two miles climb over a few ridges before dropping into a sandy canyon that gradually climbs for about three miles toward Upper Covington. About fifteen minutes into the hike we passed two women who were bird watching. After exchanging pleasantries, we continued on. At the time I didn’t realize it, but those were the last two people we would see until we were nearly off the trail two days later.
After a few hours of climbing through what is probably the most monotonous stretch of the route, we finally topped out. The terrain quickly changed. The canyon narrowed into singletrack and suddenly Joshua Trees were everywhere. We hiked along talking and laughing, enjoying the quiet rhythm of the trail. Eventually I stopped and told Anna to continue ahead. I wanted her to experience the desert on her own for a while. I told her our first water drop was about two miles away and I would meet her there. Off she went.
A couple of miles later I caught up to her. We dropped our packs and had lunch, sandwiches we had picked up that morning. Somehow simple food always tastes amazing on the trail.
Then came the less fun part. We filled our bottles with two liters of water each for the trail and loaded a dromedary bag with another gallon for the next twenty-four hours. That extra ten pounds always hurts, but in the desert there’s really no avoiding it.
We wandered through the basin, weaving between massive Joshua trees before climbing up to Tortilla Ridge. We dropped our packs again and took a break while taking in the view. From the ridge we could see Palm Springs and, beyond it, the Salton Sea shimmering in the distance. On perfectly clear days you can even see Signal Hill in Mexico, but the hazy Southern California air blocked the view that day.
Eventually we dropped down from the ridge, but in the distance we could already see the one where we would spend the night. The problem was that dropping down meant we would have to gain all that elevation back in a short and very steep climb. After fourteen miles of hiking, that final three-quarter-mile push was rough.
But when we finally topped out we found the familiar campsite I had used before, and we knew we were home for the night.
We set up camp and made dinner—tortillas, cheese, and pepperoni, which we jokingly called our “Mexican pizza.” Anna pulled out her camp chair while I found a comfortable rock. We sat quietly and watched the sun sink toward the western horizon. Soon the sunset absolutely exploded with color, lighting up the desert sky. Then, as if the evening needed one more perfect moment, we turned around and saw a full moon rising over the ridge to the east.
You couldn’t script a better desert evening.
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