Need to Reset? Head to the Desert
Issue 014 Essay: California’s High Desert is the perfect place to disconnect and recalibrate—something we could all use right now.
There’s a good reason why, 2,000 or so years ago, the world’s most famous Palestinian Jew dropped everything and headed into the Judean wilderness for 40 days and 40 nights to mull over life’s meaning. It wasn’t just geographical convenience—the desert offered space and very few distractions; it was somewhere to properly disconnect. (There was also something about resisting temptation, but that’s not relevant here, so we’ll skip over it.) The fact is, the desert is a great place to think—or to clear the mind entirely. Either way, it offers a chance to reset before returning to the real world.
In today’s chaotic, relentless, and at times completely overwhelming world, I imagine most of us could benefit from a reset now and again. Mine came last September, when a perfect storm of looming deadlines, the financial pressures of freelancing, a heap of self-doubt, and an increasingly bleak news cycle (particularly in the region mentioned above) combined into a surge of stress. Nothing catastrophic—everything was technically manageable—but like a misbehaving electronic device, I decided to try switching myself off, waiting a few beats, and turning back on again in the hope I’d reboot feeling refreshed. Or, sticking with the storm metaphor: I needed time to dry out. And where better to do that than the notoriously moisture-free desert?
I didn’t have 40 days to spare (who does, Jesus?), so I settled for four and flew to Palm Springs. A drive north, then east, took me into California’s High Desert and eventually to Twentynine Palms. Once a one-horse town, its proximity to Joshua Tree National Park has made it an increasingly trendy getaway for reset-seekers like me. True wilderness is hard to find these days (or wildly expensive), and since Twentynine Palms is less crowded than other desert destinations, it felt like the right compromise. It also, for the record, has far more than 29 palms.
Extreme solitude isn’t actually required for a reset. Easy access to the wilds of Joshua Tree is more than enough to rewire the brain, refocus energy, and realign priorities. I spent the first two nights at Hotel Wren, a former roadside motel recently transformed by Manola Studio into a chic, 12-room, adults-only oasis. It was the perfect setting to begin my mental offload—lounging by the central pool, eating breakfast beside towering aloes, or unwinding in the private patio behind my room.
Hotel Wren is just a few miles from Joshua Tree’s north entrance, and within 20 minutes you can reach a scorched, boulder-strewn landscape that feels otherworldly. While popular formations like Skull Rock, Split Rock, and Arch Rock draw crowds, there are plenty of remote trails if solitude is your aim. Some spots require perfect timing to fully appreciate them, and on my first morning I woke before sunrise to catch one. Driving deep into the park, I arrived at a vast basin dotted with alien-like cholla cacti. As the sun crests the mountains, dawn light filters through their delicate spines, making them appear to glow. For 30 magical minutes, I felt transported somewhere beyond reality—until the temperature began climbing and it was time to move on. The memory, though, has lingered.
Later that day, after downtime by the pool, I decided to complete the circle with a sunset hike. Research suggested Ryan Mountain—one of the park’s highest peaks—offered the best vantage point, so I ambitiously tackled the steep climb. I don’t typically recommend solo hiking, but this was a well-marked trail and I came prepared. The 360-degree views were well worth the effort, as the landscape shifted from beige and tan to deep reds and purples beneath a similarly dramatic sky. Getting down, however, was trickier. Who knew it gets dark after sunset? Thank heavens for my mountain-goat agility and iPhone flashlight, because it was touch-and-go for a minute. But I made it without incident. My reward? Pizza Hut, the only place open late on a Wednesday night in Twentynine Palms.
My second stay, at the aptly named Reset Hotel, was as close to spending the night on Mars as perhaps I’ll ever get. Set on expansive land at the foot of the mountains, the property comprises shipping-container-like structures housing minimalist rooms and forming communal spaces. The concept for Reset came from Ben Uyeda, whose thoughtful approach continues to shape the desert landscape with respect. Meanwhile, the interiors and branding were designed by local firm Gry Space, who kindly met me on-site to share their vision.
The afternoon of my arrival, Ben invited me to a sunset “rock throwing” party, which was exactly as it sounds. He was building a sculptural moon-watching pad on the property and needed to fill its circular form with stones before pouring concrete. So he gathered friends—and me—and turned it into a community event complete with drinks, wings, snacks, and even homemade “rock” cakes that someone brought along. This wasn’t on my desert-disconnect agenda, and I initially hesitated attending. But I’m so glad I went, because it reminded me that community and connection can be just as restorative as solitude.
Though the moon pad wasn’t finished, I did stare up at the desert sky while soaking in my outdoor tub that night. Humans don’t typically enjoy feeling small and insignificant, but I find that it helps put things into perspective. In the vast openness of the desert, gazing into infinite space, I’m just a speck of matter worrying about deadlines or whether my Substack matters. Nothing compares to desert stargazing for this purpose.
Both sharing beers with strangers and spending time completely alone helped me disconnect and recalibrate. You’ll be happy to hear that my reset was a resounding success! On my drive back from the High Desert, I already felt a weight off my shoulders, and by the time I landed in NYC, I was clear-headed enough to tackle each of my challenges one by one.
I very much hope you’re not feeling stressed, anxious, overwhelmed—or worse, all of the above. But in today’s fraught society, no one can blame you for it. And perhaps it’s time for your own reset. We may have just missed the start of Lent, but it’s never too late to take time for yourself. Go wander in the desert for a few days—or even 40, if you can. I promise you’ll feel better for it.
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This made me miss the desert.
There’s something about those places where the landscape does most of the talking and you slowly run out of things to say back. The light, the space, the dryness - it forces you to slow down whether you planned to or not.
I liked the idea of “drying out.” That felt honest. Not dramatic. Just tired in a very normal way, and needing distance.
Sometimes a reset isn’t about answers. It’s just about stepping somewhere wide enough that your thoughts don’t feel so crowded.
Your sunrise in the cholla garden sounded like one of those small, quiet moments that stay longer than the trip itself.