A Tree Named Joshua Written by Jessica Meisels Monday, 07 March 2011 22:24 - Last Updated Monday, 23 January 2012 22:48
By Jessica Meisels
Look, I don’t know. One minute we were talking and laughing about going to the “Joshua Tree,” which, as any sane person would conclude, means visiting a tree named Joshua, maybe have a lie down and a champers in the park while I read; that sort of thing. No.
What was sold to me as a “casual two hour drive to a park” was in fact a five-hour TREK to some desert mountains with the ugliest joshua trees I’ve ever seen. It was also fucking FREEZING. All my friends suddenly morphed into pro-climbers with weird shiny metal equipment and shoes and rods and things they had been hiding all semester. I was somehow roped into sliding awkwardly over boulders, slipping down cold rocks, stumbling as I fearfully attempted (and failed) to jump from one rock to the next, and burnt my hands on gravel. As my crew skipped, hopped and jumped gleefully up the mountain, I grumbled and cursed that they were all seeing my weak, and therefore accurate, side. Allow me to demonstrate:
“Hey Jess, just a bit more to go!”
“Get fucked. Where’s Starbucks?”
“Haha, you’ll be fine!”
“I’m...going to kill you. And then your whole family. I hate you.”
“Ha…wait…you didn’t laugh…Why do your eyes look crazy? What are you doing with those scissors?!”
I somehow found myself at the top of a mountain, looking down at the most revolting desert, attached by little more than rope and a whole lotta faith.
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