I read in a guidebook that Gram Parsons had died at a motel in Joshua Tree, one that was still operating, but I wasn’t thinking about it when I found a number on the Internet and called the Joshua Tree Inn. It was a Monday, and when I asked what the rates would be and if they had a room for the next three days, a friendly voice said, “We’re running a midweek special – it’s half-price!”
Which is how I managed to get a large room with a high, wood-beamed ceiling and separate sitting area for $45 per night. The complex has a pool, which Bill, the manager, said I could use if I were “cryogenically inclined.” It also has a nice, sunny (well everything is sunny in the desert) breakfast room and a small yard of sand and cacti. Lots of birds, too, and a friendly, overweight dog named Sadie.
When I checked in and saw the photos on the office walls, I realized I was in the Gram Parsons motel. I didn’t ask too many questions and hoped that I wouldn’t be staying in the same room. Later I asked Bill’s wife Robbie to not tell me which room it was, but reading my squeamishness she told me it wasn’t my room. There are plenty of people, she told me, who come to the Inn on a sort of pilgrimage, actually requesting the dead man’s room. Nothing out of a bad Hollywood shriekfest has happened, though; Robbie said, “Gram is a playful spirit.” Apparently he’s removed the linens a couple of times, only to replace it a few hours later (much to the maid’s confusion). A psychic who takes an annual trip (pun intended) to stay in the room claims to have conversed with him, and Robbie said that a thirteen-year-old songwriter heard him calling her name in the night. Who knows? My chapstick disappeared, but it never turned up. Maybe Gram was pissed that I don’t believe in ghosts.
Bill and Robbie are of the age to remember all this stuff (though they’ve only recently moved from Chapel Hill, NC), although Robbie confesses that no one from their generation remembers much. Besides Gram Parsons, some Rolling Stones (“Sweet Virginia” was supposedly written there) and Donovan, among others, stayed at the Joshua Tree back in the day. Being only a few hours’ drive (back in the day!) from LA, they all came out to “trip in the desert.” My own experience in Joshua Tree did not require LSD to be pretty trippy.
Although there are several entrances to Joshua Tree National Park (the most popular being the one at Twentynine Palms), the West Entrance is just up the road from the JT Inn. It costs $10 to enter the park, but that’s good for seven days, and would include camping (at most sites), if you so desired. The West Entrance deposits you on Park Boulevard, one of the prettiest drives in the park. (author’s note 1)
I had only three days in Joshua Tree, but could have easily spent three weeks. Not having much confidence in either my physical condition or my sense of direction, I decided to stick to short (under 4 mile) hikes. It didn’t turn out to be much of a hindrance, as there are plenty of great hikes in the park. (Although being kind of a dumb hiker, and too cheap to buy a book, I was usually unsure as to whether or not I had reached the destination).(author’s note 2) JT is also a rock climber’s paradise, and amateur rock scrambling can be pretty fun, too – just watch your step on the way down, as it can be a long way down.
There’s nothing like hiking in the desert. I learned this the previous week in Anza-Borrego State Park. But Joshua Tree is truly a magical place. It’s also huge, so despite my poorly-timed-to-coincide-with-spring-break visit there, it wasn’t difficult to avoid crowds.
A great introduction to the historical side of the park is the Desert Queen Ranch tour. A park ranger takes a group to the otherwise off-limits 1917 homestead of Bill Keys. The Keys family lived on the ranch until 1969, at which time the Parks Service took it over, so the house, outbuildings, well, dam, old cars, rusted bedsprings, and pretty much everything else is just as they left it. The ranger talks about the mining history of the area, as well as the personal history of Bill Keys and his family (such as the time Keys shot and killed his neighbor, Worth Bagley – you can see the marker if you take the hike to the “Wall Street stamp mill”).
Old mines, abandoned stamp mills (part of a mine), ruins of pink houses and rusted car carcasses will greet you on several of the trails. There are also several self-guided “nature trails,” for those without a compass or just into shorter walks. Yet there is no shortage of nature here, and there are plenty of trails on which you won’t meet another soul – at least, not another human (I can’t speak for any of the ghosts of those miners or shooting victims). One of my favorites (recommended by Bill at the JT Inn) was Pine City. A long, flat trail leads to a grove of huge boulders, around which are fairly large knotty pines. (The book calls them large. Being from the Northwest, I kept walking past Pine City looking for what I consider “large” pines. Forget it. This is the desert). It is a beautiful, serene spot, and although there were once mines in the surrounding area, no trace of human habitation remains.
A little more popular as well as more impressive hike is the 49 Palms Oasis. The trail leads up and up and up, to 3,080 feet, offering spectacular views of the valley and the city of Twentynine Palms (and the realization that golf courses are a sin!) Although I did get a little lost on the way out (yes, I have ordered a compass from Sierra Trading Post), the trail is well marked and you’ll know when you’ve reached the destination – it’s a real oasis with water, lush grasses, and fan palms hidden away in a rocky canyon.
Besides the multitude of hiking options, I found the drives between the trails breathtakingly beautiful, as was the sunset seen from Keys View. I saw jackrabbits and coyotes – which came right up to the car, begging for food. It’s lovely to see the animals up close, but feeding them is detrimental to their survival, so please don’t. The especially lucky can spot Bighorn sheep on the less-traveled trails.
For me, it was the silence…and the rocks…and the light…and the cacti…and the whole mystery of the desert. Despite my verbosity, words cannot describe Joshua Tree. You have to experience it to understand.
Author’s note 1: Unfortunately, drive is the operative word here. This is California. You’ll need a car. From the JT Inn to the West Entrance is probably about 3 miles, and from the entrance it’s a schlep to any of the trails. Besides, you couldn’t even get to Joshua Tree without a car. That said, Jet Blue flies to Ontario, CA, about an hour (as always, traffic depending) west of LA. Arriving in Ontario lets you avoid all of the LA traffic – although I sat on a parking lot freeway for over an hour at San Bernardino.
The good news is Jet Blue gets you in around midnight, so if you were up for late night driving, you could probably get to Joshua Tree in about two hours. Booking through Cheaptickets.com I got a great deal on an Avis rental car: $135/week for an economy car, upgraded to a four-door compact (with CD player) since that was all that was left at midnight! Beware, though, that several of the car rental desks were closed that midnight, despite the long faces of the customers with reservations who had arrived on my late-night Jet Blue flight.
Author’s note 2: On the second day I learned my lesson and bought a book! A good one (and cheap, too) is “Joshua Tree Trails,” by Patty Knapp. The pocket guide is only $7 at the Oasis Visitor Center (29 Palms). The more comprehensive “On Foot in Joshua Tree National Park” by the same author contains most, if not all, of the park’s hikes, for you big spenders.
Links:
National Parks Service, Joshua Tree National monument
Desert USA (better site than the Nat. Parks)
Joshua Tree National Park Association
Questions?
If you want more information about this area you can email the author or check out our North America Insiders page.
