Mountain Classroom: Climbing in Joshua Tree

"Rock climbing in Joshua Tree was an experience that will stay with all of us, for it not only left its mark on our hands and scraped knees, but also allowed us to connect with the earth in a way unlike any other." Read more from Sedona '26 below!

Sedona '26

There are places that feel older than time, then there is Joshua Tree.

The desert doesn't welcome you so much as it studies you. It waits in its vast, sun-bleached stillness, wind dragging its fingers across granite and scrub. The air is dry enough to chap your lips in minutes, and yet it feels clean—stripped of distraction. Every sound carries. Every movement matters. After two days of climbing, we started the third with our arms heavy and calluses forming. From a distance, the rock formations looked almost soft—rounded, stacked, improbably balanced. But up close, the granite revealed its true character: coarse, crystalline, textured like rough sandpaper baked in heat for millions of years. 

I stood at the base of the wall, craning my neck upward. The route traced a subtle line through cracks and faint features—nothing obvious, nothing generous. Just enough. Asking Evan for the bag, I chalked my hands, the powder blooming in the air like desert dust. My harness felt snug around my waist—confirmed through safety checks, of course. The rope threaded through Emily, my belayer's device with a quick metallic click. "The sound of safety," as Emi said. I placed my palm against the rock. "Climbing," I called. And with Emily's words, "climb on", I was off the ground. 

The first moves were tentative. My foot searched for a smear—a suggestion of a foothold rather than a defined edge. I pressed my rubber sole flat against the stone and shifted my weight slowly, testing the friction. The rock held. As I climb higher, my body flattens against the face. My cheek nearly brushes the rock as I lean in, feeling its warmth grow as the sun rises. The world narrows to inches: the placement of my right toe on a sloping edge no wider than a coin, the careful curl of my fingers over a shallow crimp, the steady rhythm of breath in and out. The sound of Nina and Hadley's voices echo below, but up here, all I hear is the scrape of shoe rubber and the low hums of wind across the open desert. 

Halfway up, I pause on a small stance—barely more than a shadow of a ledge. I shift my weight onto one leg, calf trembling slightly, and glance around. To my left I see Levi, working his way through a crack. I watch as his knee turns inwards, his foot now secured in a foot jam. He pushes himself, relying on his belayer, Cian, to pick up the slack. To my right I see Eloise, reaching for the blue carabiner, signaling her victory of the wall. Hearing cheers of her name from below, I join in. As I look down, the ground feels both close and impossibly far. The Joshua trees below look smaller now, their twisted branches reaching in frozen gestures towards the sky. The desert stretches endlessly—soft tans, muted greens, distant blue mountains fading into haze. The sun has climbed higher now, and the rock radiates warmth into my palms. My fingers are dusted white with chalk, streaked with faint abrasions where the crystals have indented skin too sharply. Sweat gathers at the base of my helmet, trickling down my temple, but the air dries it almost instantly. Then comes the crux. 

The holds are thin as whispers. I can do the next sequence, but it demands commitment—a high step onto a slanted foothold and a reach to an edge that looks barely there. My forearms tighten, muscles humming with effort. Doubt flickers in the back of my mind, sharp and insistent. I exhale slowly, pressing my hip closer to the wall. I shift my weight onto my right foot, feeling it smear against granite. For a heartbeat, it feels like standing on nothing. Then rubber sticks. Solid. I push upward. My fingers stretch, searching, brushing against rough stone before settling on a thin edge. It's smaller than I had hoped, yet I know I can hold it for just long enough. I curl my fingers over it, the rock digging into my tired fingers. With a controlled push, I rise above the move that had held me in place. The tension releases in a quiet surge of relief. The angle eases slightly, and the holds grow friendlier, welcoming me again, upward. 

When I finally make it to the prized blue carabiner, I let out the breath that I didn't know I had been holding. Placing my hand on the shiny blue metal, I yell down to Emily, "Take!" I feel myself being secured, floating on a seat of rope 100 feet above the ground. As I turn my head, I am struck with the never ending feeling of magnitude that is the view in front of me. The rocks, looking as though they were merely pebbles on a sandy beach, I watch as the sun hits each of their faces differently, illuminating many cracks and crevices, while hiding others in shadows. I see the group below me, each now appearing the size of my thumb. Despite their apparent size, their cheers mean just as much, or maybe more, seeing as what I had just accomplished. Turning back to the wall, I prepare for my descent. 

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