On my first visit to the west coast, I found myself on a 4 hour drive from Las Vegas to LA. But fast-forward 4 hours, I wasn’t in LA. I was standing on a real life Mars on Earth, 3 and a half hours to go. Bad driving time, right?
Okay, let’s rewind. If you know photographer Greg Truelove and I, you know we don’t take the quickest way possible anywhere, unless it’s during hurricane season, when we’re racing towards the storm, but I’ll save that for a later entry.
When leaving Vegas, of course we decided to take the longer, more scenic passage through the Mojave Desert for pure exploration purposes, so we took Cima Road and let it be our ground pilot for the day.
While passing a forest of Joshua trees in what was now California, we saw something light in the far distance–like snow on the ground. In the desert…?? Ah, must be a mirage. Later we reached the middle-of-nowhere, ghost town version of an intersection: some railroad tracks, what turned out to be an interesting southwest style building… and outdoor jail cells? Yes, these are in fact cells, outside!
The Kelso Depot Visitor Center, a preserved train depot, is a true jewel. It’s a really cool museum educating visitors about the rare wildlife and plants native to the area. It also showcases some pretty stellar astrophotography shots from the night, to some daytime shots of the wildlife and something called the Kelso Dunes. Turns out, that mysterious snowy mirage from Cima Road was actually the largest sand field in the Mojave, also known as the Kelso Dunes. Here we also learned about some interesting phenomenons, my favorite being that occasionally the dunes hum their own songs–from sand! That’s a rarity in the dune world. I’m also pleased to report that the jail cells were retired from a tin shelter from the old days of 1944 and used for confining drunks for the night up until 1985. Good times!
So, where are these famous dunes? Per the park ranger’s “down the road, to the right at that one shed” *ahem* more like 20 minutes later, we saw them. The rolling ridges of sand appeared into focus, and they only grew taller and taller the more we drove alongside. I would have never thought a mountain range of sand chilling out within a few miles of real mountain ranges would be so awe-inspiring! And so difficult to climb! Trudging a few steps forward on uphill (ultra soft!) sand is more like taking one, and such “progress” left us immediately reaching for our water bottles. We actually didn’t make it to the largest dune reaching 650 feet tall from the desert floor, we didn’t even try, but we had fun venturing and observing others do their thing. We watched a few others park at the trail head and confidently go forth like it’s just part of their normal day, then later I would look up to see tiny moving dots at the very top–nah, those were the people who had parked…. a couple of hours ago? Not sure, since time doesn’t exist in such a vastly arid, creepily-quiet, martian-like landscape. Pro tip: if you don’t like silence, don’t come here where silence is like a pressure against your eardrums.
The second trip out west, and each time after, we found ourselves back at the dunes. We came more prepared with tents and sleeping bags with REI tags fit to keep me warm in the early winter months, while partner-in-travel Truelove stays awake all night capturing galaxies during his limited time inside the parameters of the darkest spot in the US. Each time we are visited by a lone fennec fox smaller than my 6 pound cat orbiting our camp for scraps. If the sun didn’t come up so soon, it would have eaten right out of our hands. Here I realized how much more savory food tastes when cooked over fire. Each time I’m ungently reminded from Mother Nature herself of how harsh the conditions of a desert can really be, as a land of extremes, even through all its picturesque moments and its stillness of sound. Oh the sun just set and the sweat from overheating feels a little icy now. Time to change again. Thanks REI!
So now, on our regularly scheduled twice-yearly migration out west, whether to or from LA or Vegas, we’re definitely camping out for a night at the dunes.
Yeap, this accidental discovery led by pavement has become an intentional destination. We’ve even rolled up to our camping spot after dusk (creeepy! “Was nice knowing ya! lol,” I always text my friends and next of kin as I’m losing service while leaving the famous Cima Road gas station–the last spot you’ll see for a while–with a carload full of snacks and geodes), yet I’m awe struck all over again when I wake and see the sand structures, still there.
Oh and knowing us, you know we never get off the hook easily–on our last farewell, we were met with an oncoming sand blizzard, shrouding our entire stretch eastbound to Vegas. Check out this photo:
Thanks for reading!
-Amber at Prettylife
Prettylife 