A Near Miss on the Lava Tubes: Mojave National Preserve

As we left Joshua Tree National Park, a large blue road sign warned us:
“No services next 100 miles.”

Thank goodness we had a full tank of gas.

Mojave National Preserve is remote—quiet in a way that feels almost unnatural after the bustle of more popular parks. No open visitor centers during the week. No gas stations. No ice cream stops. Just the road, the wind, and the vastness of California’s high desert.

But that emptiness hides something extraordinary.

We couldn’t believe how many Joshua Trees surrounded us—as far as the eye could see. Apparently more per acre than the national park that bears their name.

Then came the cinder cones. Scattered across the desert, these volcanic mounds looked like they’d cooled just yesterday. Their sides were bare, with no shrubs or even stubborn tufts of grass. Sharp black rocks crumbled down their slopes and spread across the sand for miles.

We had planned to bounce off the paved road and explore a lava tube—just a 10-mile roundtrip on a dirt track. But half a mile in, with the washboard surface rattling so loud we could hardly hear each other talk, all the kids agreed they would rather turn back. No tube, no echoing black tunnel, just a hasty turnaround and the comforting feel of pavement under the tires again.

Even without the anticipated lava tube adventure, the drive through Mojave was worth the trip. As the miles passed, we watched the desert slowly change. The collection of Joshua Trees gave way to a more open, sparse landscape as we crept into the edge of the Great Basin Desert.

Mojave National Preserve wasn’t the easiest place to visit. But that’s kind of the point.
No crowds. No noise. Just space—open, raw, and waiting.

Maybe we’ll be back with a sturdier vehicle and a bit more time to linger. Or maybe we won’t need more time. Maybe this brush with the quiet, volcanic heart of the desert is exactly what we came for.

Flashback: A Lava Tube Curse?

This wasn’t the first time lava tubes slipped through my fingers.

A decade ago, when Lorelei was just one and we were expecting Jack, I had big plans to explore the cenotes of Mexico. These are ancient lava tubes now filled with fresh water, where I planned to SCUBA dive from a jungle sinkhole all the way out to the ocean. I had a spot booked and everything ready… until I missed the early-morning transport from the hotel.

As I stood there while the van pulled away, I had a quiet realization:
Maybe it wasn’t the worst thing to skip out on cave diving in the jungle—especially when my toddler and pregnant wife are still asleep in a hotel room. It turns out underwater lava tubes are among the highest-fatality-rate sports per minute spent.

So, now two strikes on lava tubes in two decades.

Maybe the third time will be the charm—wherever it is.