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Traveling Through Darkness
It was a great sunset. No, perhaps
not the best one I'd ever seen, but it rated right up there.
Pink, red, purple, blue and grey, with shadows cutting through
the valley below. Joshua trees sprouting up to add a spikey
contrast to the soft colors. Yes, it was just about perfect.
But once the sun went down, I was
left with a long journey, one that would test everything from my
driving skills to my sanity.
I was in Joshua Tree National Park,
in southern California. Here, the almost human-looking trees
outnumber actual humans probably ten-thousand to one. They also
outnumber things like streetlights, gas stations, and roadsigns,
all of which comfort suburb-dwellers like me.
Once the sun was down, there was
nothing left to see, no more pictures to take, no more trails to
hike. All that was left was to leave. The nearest motel bed was
at least an hour's drive away, by my estimation, so there was no
point in wasting time. I gazed at the now dark purple sky one
final time, and started driving.
Joshua Tree offers plenty to do on
its northern side. But in order to connect with the nearest
interstate (I-10) as you leave the park, you must take a
solitary two lane road, for 36 solitary miles.
At the turn-off, I noted the miles
on my odometer, and the time on my rental car's clock. "Maintain
a good speed, and it shouldn't be long before I'm on the
freeway," I thought.
I reached for the radio. Nothing.
That will teach me to rent a car without first making sure it
had an antenna. The same for the cell phone. That "can you hear
me now" guy must have never made it here.
With no music or voices to break the
silence, I was left with the hum of the motor, and the
occasional screech of the tires, as I swerved to miss the
creatures that crawled out into the road. The overwhelming quiet
helped the thoughts inside my head to became louder than ever.
I calculated my miles and my speed.
I estimated how long it would be, before I reached the
interstate. I was quiet at first, then realized there was no
point in not speaking aloud.
Then, a glimmer of light on the
horizon: a set of tail lights, probably a mile away. They were
there, then gone, then appeared again.
I wondered who was in that car. Had
he seen me? Was he also desparate to spot another human?
18 miles down. That's halfway! If I
keep driving the same speed, that means... another 40 minutes?
Can I take it?
The darkness wrapped around me. How
could it be getting even darker? I kept dodging tiny animals in
the road, but began to realize at times, the animals were only
in my mind.
The car that was once several miles
in front of me is now a little closer. I couldn't see the
interstate, but I wonder if he could?
In the silence I began to wonder if
this would make a good episode, perhaps, of the Twilight Zone.
Maybe it should be turned into a college-student style movie,
and be shown at some alternative film festival. The thoughts
inside my head could provide the narration.
Then, the sight I had hoped for. A
tiny string of twinkling headlights. It was almost as if someone
had strung a line of christmas lights across the desert floor.
It was I-10... it was other people.
Just before leaving the park, I
pulled over at the side of the road. After stepping out of my
car, I walked around back, and leaned against the dusty trunk. I
looked up at the moon, and down at the shadow it cast. Then I
stared into the darkness I had just driven through--the darkness
that tried to get the best of me. Funny, from there, it didn't
look so frightening after all.
Jump to my visit
to Joshua Tree National Park
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