Photographs Before Pancakes
We were up at the crack of dawn, chasing first light at Joshua Tree—specifically the Cholla Cactus Garden, where the sunrise ignites the spines of the desert.
A quick shot of espresso, camera gear by the door (so nothing was left behind), and we were out into the dark.
The drive wasn’t particularly thrilling—pitch black, not much to see, but as we entered the National Park, I felt the pull to stop at every winding turn. The sky was already shifting into that soft blue of pre-dawn. We didn’t have long.
When we arrived, the Cholla Cactus Garden glowed gold. Otherworldly. Spikes reached out in every direction, lit up like they were plugged into the sun.
We wandered further through the park, stopping to photograph the sculpted rocks and reaching yuccas. A distant coyote call and the growing need for coffee nudged us toward the exit. We took a different road out, and found ourselves in Twentynine Palms.
Breakfast options were slim. With slight shame, we ended up at Starbucks—sometimes you’ve got to do what you’ve got to do. The town felt almost abandoned. Maybe it was the early hour. Maybe it’s just one of those in-between places.
Then I saw it: The Out There Bar.
Closed, faded, and ghostly—but painted pink, like a mirage. It looked abandoned, but my mind flicked to what it might’ve been in its heyday. Dark, windowless, maybe full of pickup trucks and rumbling Harleys. Desert riff raff spilling into the night.
What’s left feels poetic in its own right. One lone palm tree stands beside a broken neon sign that still spells out “Cocktails.”
I circled the building, searching for a frame. Across the street, the word STOP was painted in bold white on the bitumen. It felt like a sign, literally and metaphorically. I stepped back, lined up the building, the palm, the stop sign—and clicked the shutter. I love what came out.
As I crossed the road, something else pulled my eye—a midnight-blue Chevy Nova, bonnet up, waiting on a tweak. I circled again. Then I heard it: the distant rumble of an old school bus. I waited, framed the car, let the bus roll in—CLICK.
Time for a proper breakfast and a coffee we didn’t have to apologise for. We made our way back to Palm Springs and stopped in at The Ace Hotel.
The pancakes were excellent.
Belinda Van Zanen
