We left the well irrigated and manicured lawns of Palm Desert for the real desert, Joshua Tree. Unfortunately, it was a holiday week and, as expected, all of the campgrounds were full. The Ranger at the visitors center recommended a private campground down the road. He said “you go about a mile out of town and then turn left, it’s a bit of a drive and you’re gonna think I’ve lost my mind sending you out into the desert but, just keep goin’ and you’ll see it”.
left: For an Easterner, the campground had the look of a barren wasteland.
right: Our desert home.
We didn’t think that he would steer us wrong so we took the left out of town and as he said, drove into the desert. Five miles out into the middle of nowhere we saw a sign for a campground and pulled in.
left: One of the stages.
right: “Sun Ray Temple” – “energy generating machine.”
The almost empty campground was quite large, well maintained and a bit odd. There were metal sculptures, fenced off areas with stages and a lake complete with ducks and fish. All around us was barren desert and the last thing we expected to do in the desert was fish but here we were in an oasis, of sorts.
left: Barrel cactus sculpture.
The Dudes perked up at the idea of fishing since it had been a while since they had cast their rods and urged the Hippygeek to find out what it was all about. It turned out that for a small fee, they could fish all day. So, we put aside one day to sleep in then spend the rest of the day at the lake.
The guys, as usual, put on their serious faces when it came to fishing. I, on the other hand, find some comedy in their pursuit and am always standing by to take a picture of the “big one” or a lure stuck in a tree.
left: The Big Dude untangles his line from a tree.
They fished in the morning with no luck and tried again in the afternoon with no luck. The Big Dude, who is the most serious fisherman of them all said “ they swim over, look at the bait, then just swim away”. I could feel his frustration like when a Mom wants her kids to put their clothes in the hamper but instead of picking them up off the floor, they just walk on by. I wanted to show him that I could feel his pain by relating my story but I didn’t think he would appreciate it.
left: The Big Dude replaces his bait.
right: Cracked mirror art.
There was supposed to be catfish and grass carp in the lake and they were supposed to like night crawlers but they didn’t seem to like the bait and the only fish they saw were the carp.
But, not all was lost. The guys had a day of fish bonding and I had a peaceful day to sit by the lake and think about nothing…except, that is, for trying to understand why strange pieces of art were oddly decorating this property in the middle of nowhere.
It turns out that the campground hosts large festivals throughout the year and they pack in as many as 4000 people. Now it was all beginning to make sense, the stages, the sculptures, the fenced areas etc. I was glad that we came on an off weekend. Then I saw a sign out front for a “star party”. What could that possibly mean? I would find that out the next day.
The desert is a strangely quiet, contemplative place. It almost asks you to be as still as it is, to listen to your heart beat, or perhaps watch for a fish to bite but, beware of fishing in the desert because you never know what you’re going to find.
above: A Chinese gong at sunset.
“Last year I went fishing with Salvador Dali. He was using a dotted line. He caught every other fish.” Steven Wright