Earlier this week we took a break from our eastern side of the Mojave National Preserve to spend some time exploring the western portion of the place, specifically the Kelso Dunes. Spanning 45 square miles the dunes stand out from all the surrounding mountains with their soft brown peaks. Extending up from a skirt of creosote plains to approximately 600 feet at their tallest peak the dunes will catch your eye long before you get to them. Even though the previous week brought a rare dusting of snow to the dunes I had hoped that the recent heat wave might bring out some critters. I am hoping to one day catch a sidewinder doing its dance on the sands but I’ll spare you the suspense and tell you now there was no such luck this time.

Geologically young, Kelso Dunes started forming roughly 25,000 years ago. The fine grains of sand have blown over from the Mojave river sink and Soda Dry Lake to the northwest having been lifted and carried for miles by the prevailing winds. Dunes sort of march forward by having steep peaks that topple forward in a lift and fall repetition, stopping only when they meet a force greater usually in the form of a mountain range. In the case of the Kelso Dunes they stopped just north of the Granite Mountains. These are the Granite Mountains within the Preserve, not to be confused by the other two sets of Granite Mountains within a hundred miles of these Granite Mountains. These dunes have been stabilized in this location long enough with not much new sand accumulation to be pretty well covered in vegetation. The plants adapted to live with the ever changing dunes tend to have more stabilizing root systems and can withstand being partially covered from time to time. Although it’s not uncommon for them to be so buried that they suffocate and die. Even creosote growing in the sandy dunes skirts will adapt to have more roots than neighboring creosote in rocky soils. Other plants grow quickly spreading many seeds then die off before letting the dunes have a chance to change too much on them. We saw one such plant beginning to sprout, the endemic Borrego Locoweed. It only rains about 4 inches a year here. When it does rain the water percolates straight down. The fine sand is a tight filter so one does not have to dig deep to find moisture. Much like shimming your feet under the beach sand on a hot day.

Of course the best part of the sand is that animal tracks show so well. And because the wind is constantly sweeping tracks clean they are usually relatively fresh. Although it’s not always easy to know just who left the tracks you’re looking at it is a fun game to try and guess. A friend and her family visited us at the park and she took a picture that made me think immediately of ravens. However, comparing her boot next to the tracks in the picture makes one think it would be one big raven! There are kit foxes, coyotes, cottontail and jack rabbits, beetles, lizards and the world’s cutest rodent…the Kangaroo Rat.

As luck would have it Tim caught something small moving in a hole as we made our trek towards the top of the dunes. We sat quietly, Tim with a camera and me with the binoculars, while about 50 feet away emerged a Kangaroo Rat beginning his/her nightly duties of sweeping the entrances to at least four holes, taking stock of the plants nearby and occasionally stopping for a scratch. We giggled, took pictures and sat in gratitude for its willingness to share this time with us for about 15 minutes. After one last dramatic flip into its home again we moved on to our original intent. Slipping in the soft steep sand we made it to the top of the highest peak just in time for sunset. A moment shared with a few others who’d made the trek from the other side of the hill. Heading back down towards camp we ran down the untrodden portion of the hill and managed to make the dunes boom with each step. Kelso Dunes and the Eureka Dunes of Death Valley National Park are known for this booming sound as air escapes between the sand when it is disturbed. It brought a child like joy to the end of our evening.

Here’s a link to the video Tim took of the Kangaroo Rat: https://youtu.be/TecgDGdkqE8

The hottest and desert in North America seemed like a great place to spend the winter in our tiny house that has scant insulation and no central heat or actually any heat to speak of. We soon learned that while some parts of the Mojave can hit 120 degrees in the summer, this is a diverse landscape of mountains and broad valleys. The cold north wind pushing snowdrifts against our tires and creeping in through the numerous gaps in our walls as we were being buffeted by the 50mph gusts which rattled our “stick and staple” construction was a tangible reminder that in the higher portions of this desert there is plenty of winter.

After weaving our way through a surprising amount of Federal bureaucracy, Rachael and I landed a remote and extended volunteer posting in the Mojave National Preserve. The National Park Service (NPS) uses over two-dozen acronyms to differentiate the more than 400 units in its system. When we imagine a National Park many of us envision the stunning scenery of Yosemite or Southern Utah, or the wildlife and exotic thermal features of Yellowstone, maybe glaciers and grizzly bears in Alaska. These are certainly the heart and soul of the system but as a great physical representation of our democracy the idea has evolved to include an invaluable collection of historic and cultural resources. There are National Seashores (NS) and Lakeshores (NL), National Scenic Trails (NST), National Wild and Scenic Rivers (NWSR) and National Historic Battlefields (NHB) and all kinds of other bits and pieces.

There was hope that this section of the Eastern Mojave would be designated as a National Park, however a lot of people in the area were opposed to the greater restrictions and a compromise was made to designate it a Preserve. This means that many historic uses of the land are still allowed. There are a few cattle grazing allotments that remain active, some small mining claims are still recognized and limited hunting is permitted. The nomenclature also seems to limit the number of folks who visit. Even though this is one of the largest properties in the NPS this big green blob on the map gets only a small fraction of the people that visit Joshua Tree or Death Valley, the two Parks that bookend the Preserve.

The marks of human activity are well evident throughout the Preserve. Some have argued that this was reason enough to disqualify it as a National Park. It hasn’t taken me long to come to learn the value of this place. It is tempting, even for me, to use words like desolate, barren, forsaken or inhospitable when describing our great deserts, if only for dramatic effect. However even the smallest effort to look more closely reveals a place that is not only rich in life and natural wonders but one that amazes us for it adaptations to adversity and its exotic forms of survival. There are chuckwalla lizards that wedge into crevices and inflate their bodies, preventing predators from pulling them out. Many animals can go months if not years without drinking a sip of water. Plants might die off after spreading prolific seeds that will wait a decade for the rainfall that inspires them to grow once again.

The physical landscape here is full of its own wonders. From a mineral encrusted dry lake bed that once fed the massive sand dune field that remains from over 20,000 years ago to the peaks over 7000 feet that have remnant forests which tell of a wetter time, this is far from the monotonous waste that travelers drawn to the glow of Las Vegas moan about. A 30-minute detour from the interstate could put them on a lunar landscape of cinder cones and lava beds or into the bizarre arms of the densest Joshua Tree forest.

Because of the former and continuing uses of the land the Mojave Preserve is in many ways the ideal place to test our willingness to save wild and natural places, to give lands a chance to heal from our many wounds and continue to be wild. That this place is less visited and has subtler joys is a resource in itself, a place to find a bit of solitude and discover on your own. Over the next few months we intend to listen to what this place can teach us. Some of the human markings here date back thousands of years. Though we can only guess as to what ancient petroglyphs and artifacts are saying we can see that people once lived here with humility. Our modern scars are at times the evidence of modern hubris. Over time, if we are willing they could become symbols of how we relearned humility and restraint.

I wasn’t surprised that this adventure would become a creative project that Rachael and I would dive into together. I was pleasantly surprised though by how rich and inspiring it has become. There are plenty of stories from the past year that still beg to be told. There are plenty more to come and possibly new ways to tell them as well. We intend to continue to be Vagabond Naturalists, no matter where we are, and that we can bring our experiences to others in a creative and constructive way.
We met many folks along the way that encouraged us that our adventures and insights were worth while, that we had something of value to share. One of these people planted a seed about crowdfunding and led me to Patreon.

I have reservations about dipping into the well of support that we’ve already gotten from people here. It has been motivating to know that a lot of wonderful people have spent some time with our journey.  We thought we could put this further out into the Universe and see where it can go.