Cottonwood – Joshua Tree NP

In a trip of mostly repeat campgrounds, we do get to check out a new one for a few days. Cottonwood campground lies at the bottom of the vast Joshua Tree National Park territory. It has a dump and water, but no electric hookups or cell service. Heading into it, we were both anxious. But then, we can get anxious about nearly anything. We worried about it seeming remote and cut off, I worried there would be not much to do, and Richard worried about all the rest. Anxiety is stupid. We had a great time, and this is now a favorite campground. 

On the way, I dropped Richard off so he could ride Box Canyon road and up 3,000’ to the campground. He may worry about getting hit by a car, but he sure doesn’t worry about crazy climbs. I sagged him the best I could through the canyon, being careful not to pull off the road into a sand ditch (needless worry). Then I pulled over just before the road crosses I-10. As I waited, I noticed something small and black on the center line. After a big RV nearly ran it over, it started moving and I realized it was a not so small tarantula. I did not have anxiety about that, so I went out with a big stick and scooted him off the road.

Our site in Cottonwood was another pull along, but had plenty of room to get Dory out of the road. There was a big drop-off at the edge of the pavement, which I did worry about, so I waited for Richard to arrive before unhitching. It is a beautiful campground with a much more laid back vibe than the ones in the middle of the park. 

The next day, we did a little loop hike to Mastodon Peak. It’s around two and a half miles and takes you past an abandoned mine. According to the signs, it was closed down as recently as 1971, before the park service acquired the area to add it to the national park. You get lovely views of the classic, rocky desert terrain, and there were gorgeous wildflowers dotting the trail. There was even a moment of cell service about a mile up the trail, enough to check in and feel connected. Just perfect to quiet the stupid anxiety.

We got back around noon and I had time to clean Dory’s windows. They were filthy and messed with reflection shots and nice views. Richard biked the mile to the Visitor Center and got us new annual national park passes. By the time he returned, Dory was sparkling clean again. Bruce then looked filthy in comparison.

We then took a driving trip up to Jumbo Rocks. That was our next destination, and I was worried about whether the site was really going to work to fit both Dory and Bruce. The description on recreation.gov is annoyingly ambiguous. It says acceptable equipment includes “a trailer and tow vehicle up to 18 feet.” Now, that says to me that each vehicle can be up to 18 feet. But grammatically, it could also mean both vehicles combined. But that does not make sense because how can you have a trailer and a tow vehicle under 18 feet combined. In any case, my worry monster was nagging at me, and Richard wanted to gauge the ride anyway, to decide whether he wanted to try it. 

It’s takes about an hour to drive from Cottonwood to Jumbo Rocks, with a climb of over a thousand feet. There is a whole vast valley of desert before you pass the Cholla Cactus Garden. Then you climb up to the rocky areas and turn left to head into the center of the park. All along the way, we watched rain clouds gathering over the surrounding mountains. We could have worried about getting caught in weather, but instead were treated to nice rainbows and a good car washing. Viewing the site did not allay any fears really, because ours, #11, shares a total of 3 parking spaces with campsite #10. We knew that Dory would fit in a parking slot, and that Bruce would fit in the other. However, site 10 also indicates two vehicles allowed. So who gets the middle slot if you both have trailers? We decided to entrust that worry to the Future Fairy, an imaginary magical friend who takes care of all future problems when they come up, in the future.

The next day, we did a big huge hike to the Lost Palm Oasis. I knew it was going to be a nine mile day with a “scramble” down the canyon at the end, so I got to mildly worry about that in the background. Of course, as is always the case, the hike in reality was beautiful. If I had been on my own, I would not have done the final descent to the canyon floor. I could have been content looking down from above. But Richard needs to do those things, and I didn’t want to sit at the top being grumpy. Instead, I followed him down, grumping out loud the whole way. At the bottom, I declared the canyon floor to be “stupid,” but we both knew I was glad I’d done it. About half way back along the trail, I was ready to say I liked it. Richard is good at letting me be grumpy in the moment because he knows that is what pushes me through things that scare me.

On our departure day, Richard tried a new strategy to deal with his Worry Monster. Exercise always does the trick for him, so he’s going to try starting the day with something small, like a quick hike, walk, or run. He did the Mastodon Peak loop going the opposite direction while I took my morning shower. The Future Fairy had already arranged for him to be hiking at the same time as a very nice lady who helped him not get lost. They chatted about the palm canyon and Richard mentioned how I loved it, but was grumpy about it. She said, “But you know why women have to be grumpy right?” He did not know. She explained, “Because we don’t fart or burp, so we have to let some grumpy out sometimes. Otherwise, we would explode.” So there you go.

We loved this campground, in spite of all the stupid Worry Monsters. Again, anxiety is stupid. Palm canyons are sometimes stupid when you have to scramble down to them, but later they are awesome. The Future Fairy always has our backs. Morning exercise is a game changer for Richard. Wine works really well for me. It’s all good, and we would come back to Cottonwood campground in a heartbeat.

Total miles from Anza Borrego: 81.8, 14.6 mpg (all uphill), 4 hours 25 min with sagging and tarantula rescues. Great dump. Water. Nice bathrooms. No cell, but you can drive 5 miles down the road and hit service. Or you can hike up to Mastodon Peak.