We were just outside of Hemet, when the highway began to weave its way through rolling hills of spring green upon gray rock. The city had long since left our rear view and ahead laid the Mojave, the fabled high desert of Southern California, a place of expansive spirit and immaculate wildness. Here, Joshua trees branch jagged and needle fanned between monuments of broken rock, piled and defiant in their stand against the sanded winds of time.
As we drove between the mountains, golden fields of wildflowers in full bloom stretched across and illuminated the land around us. The car lurched upwards through the Morongo Canyon, the bloom yielded to desert barrens, and from there, sparse desert shrub dotted the sands surrounding the desiccated road running through the Mojave like a fracture in brittle bone.
We took the drive to Keys View, where the lush Coachella Valley rests beneath the San Jacinto Mountain and the Salton Sea edges the hazed horizon that blurs in the distant heat.
Days end brought with it the setting sun and a sky ablaze with brilliant neons, golden orange, lavender and radiant pink.
The Three Amigos
“Integrity is wholeness…
The wholeness of life and things,
The divine beauty of the universe.
Love that, not man apart from that.”