But that's a story for another time and place; for we are leaving the Prehistoric Mojave for the rugged desolation of the Colorado Desert; a subset of the Sonoran, and a very hot, dry and unforgiving place.
We end up in a quarter square mile garden of cholla an hour before sunset. Last time I was to photograph these cholla, my equipment failed in the heat. This time, my equipment is mechanical.
Setting up among the cactus, a cholla barrel lodges itself in my leg. Cholla spines are an inch and a half of the sharpest plant in the world; Lily's cholla injury from last year still hasn't healed. I remove twenty spines from my leg with a pliers and in vengeance I kick another barrel as hard as I can with impenetrable waterproof boots - the barrel goes nowhere except through my boot; 20 spines in my big toe and the arch of my foot. I may do stupid things in life. But in Joshua Tree I excel at it. Last year, I left my camera bag, and everything in it - off a stretch of road 20 miles from any significant marking. "Where did you leave it?" the ranger asked.
"Between West Entrance and Quail Springs."
"Which side of the road?"
"I don't remember."
Two weeks later, it was found.
With all the pain and blood and unremoved spines, I looked up at the sun - 10 minutes until my shot. So I hobbled to my film bag; another cactus barrel. Anything for this shot - I wasn t going to miss it again. I open the bag - the film was not loaded.
Good god I never loaded my film. It would take 10 minutes to load 4 sheets of film. I sat down, and in eight minutes three were loaded. Stood up. Hobbled to the camera. Shoved the film in, and just then, the sun went down, and the majesty of the Sonoran faded.
Next time.
