Part 2: Continued
Stepping out of the car was once again an incredible experience - being enveloped
by the stillness of the desert. My intention was to find The Tree and then
return and get my wife and daughter so that the three of us could check
out the location together. I grabbed a few items from the car; binoculars,
water
and some camera gear, and took off to the east, walking close to the highway
for about 100 yards. With a healthy amount of confidence, I stopped and
pulled the binoculars out of my bag. I had a good idea of exactly where
to look
this time, especially after spotting a very distinct looking stump-like
joshua tree off in the distance that looked like the one that appears in
the vicinity
of The Tree in some of the lesser known Corbijn photos. As I brought the
area into view through my binoculars, I quickly spotted a dead tree clumped
on the ground. Without much doubt, I slightly shook my head and let out
a forceful breath, then chuckled faintly. I knew that what I was seeing
was,
in fact, The Tree. After all the searching last year, it turned out to
be much easier than I had thought – one just had to know exactly
where to look.
With only the sound of my breath and footsteps breaking the silence of the desert floor, I proceeded away from the highway through the sagebrush, sand and dust. I occasionally turned around, only to notice our car parked on the side of the highway getting smaller and smaller. Due to the enormity of the desert, it is hard to gauge just how far one has walked unless you have a relatively small, fixed object to use as a reference point. And it helps if that object sticks out like a sore thumb … like a shining silver car. As I came closer to the decaying tree on the ground, I knew right then that my work was done and I had finally found what I had been looking for. Final confirmation came when I noticed small stones on the ground placed in various order, spelling out “U2” and “PRIDE.” With nothing but the sound of the crisp, cold desert wind blowing in my face, I stopped at the base of The Tree and caught my breath. It was very quiet. After the initial rush of excitement and feeling of satisfaction subsided, I felt a bit of sadness come over me - sad that The Tree, such a robust and large tree when it was alive, lay in such a state of decay. But this was the natural life cycle of the desert and one day, fittingly and naturally, there will be nothing left as The Tree returns to the soil. Metaphorically, I couldn’t help but think about how much things had changed within the last twenty years and how, in the late ‘80s, The Tree became, almost inadvertently, a symbol of grace, harmony and love against a backdrop of Iran-Contra deception, Wall Street greed, bad haircuts and stone-washed blue jeans. And I also thought of how, by 1989, U2 were beginning to be crushed under their own weight as their growing popularity prompted criticisms of melodramatic self-righteousness, arrogance and pompous indulgences. Of course, the final straw came when the band was accused by the press of “marketing idealism,” to which U2 responded by completely dismantling nearly everything they had developed and explored during The Joshua Tree era. Their next album, Achtung Baby – another masterpiece in its own right – was fittingly described by Bono as “the sound of us chopping down The Joshua Tree.” Once again, the literal world had caught up with the metaphorical.
And so there lay The Tree before me. Dead. On the ground. Six or seven feet away, someone erected a small copper plaque attached to a concrete base that invariably serves as a sort of memorial tombstone, forever marking the location for future visitors by asking, "HAVE YOU FOUND WHAT YOU'RE LOOKING FOR?" Although I can certainly appreciate the heart and passion that went into creating such a permanent commemorative, I’m still not sure whether or not this is a case where some fans had gone too far. But overall, I would like to think that those rabid U2 fans that choose to make a pilgrimage to The Tree ultimately form a much deeper appreciation and respect for the natural desert. This feeling was perhaps confirmed by the fact that I did not see a single piece of trash lying around in vicinity of The Tree.
After I had absorbed the moment and emerged from my pensiveness, I started to get some snapshots from different vantage points. In contrast to the absolute silence of the desert, each shutter click from my old film Nikon camera sounded like a hammer on a piece of metal. Returning back to the car, I rounded up my wife and daughter and the three of us made our way back out to the location together. I carried Tara the whole way to ensure her safety, since, after all, we were in the wild. We sat my daughter down by the base of The Tree and I began to shoot some more photographs. I set up my tripod right where Anton Corbijn must have stood to get that famous shot used for the “gatefold center” inside The Joshua Tree vinyl cover and CD booklet. We duplicated several other perspectives, just for the fun of it and tried to entertain my increasingly impatient two-year-ten-month-old in between shots. Perhaps one day she will look back at these photos and think that it was pretty cool to have been taken to such a locale while still a baby. By that time, The Joshua Tree album will be perhaps 35, 40 or 50 years old and I’m confident that it will still sound as good, and that it will still be recognized as a classic landmark Rock and Roll record. Hell, I would’ve thought it really cool if my parents would have taken a picture of our family when I was three, standing in the famous Abbey Road crosswalk where The Beatles stood for the cover of Abbey Road. Someone may be thinking, “Hey, U2 are not The Beatles.” Of course they’re not. They are U2 though and their music has its place in the collective imagination of a generation. What more is there?
Before we headed back to the car, I paused to reflect one last time, noticing once again the beauty of the mountain range to the south. I thought about the timeless quality of this beautiful landscape and about how this area has probably looked virtually the same throughout the centuries, even throughout several thousands of years. Often times, while traveling through naturally beautiful areas of the country, I think of how Native Americans inhabited such a rich and plentiful land for many millennia prior to being disturbed and eventually destroyed by a competing culture. Their legacy runs deep in the west and I was about to find out just how much this fact overshadows a trivial event such as an Irish rock band posing for a photograph with a tree. Several days after returning home from our trip, I read on the internet that someone researching the Native American history of the area where The Tree is located discovered something absolutely amazing: Apparently, elders from the Timbisha Shoshone tribe told this researcher that the area surrounding The Tree is considered sacred. What is even more astonishing is that this tribe was well aware of The Tree because it was actually planted by their tribe back in the late 19th century to mark the place where their burial lands began, 30 feet beyond The Tree, towards the mountains. So if what is being said is true, the real significance of The Tree is that it has been a genuine spiritual landmark for the true guardians of this land for over 100 years! And according to what I read, the Timbisha tribe does not object to visitors respectfully visiting The Tree.
As we drove away heading east towards Death Valley, I thought of how this area had evolved from a world known to me only through photographs and lyrical imagery into something that was now a very familiar “real world” location. But real world familiarity with this place did not ruin the dream nor did it spoil the fantasy. To the contrary, I know that the desert welcomes the dreamer with open arms and inspires one to keep dreaming. Keep moving. And this is all we can do.
Photography by Tom & Yumiko Goller
U2 Photography by Anton Corbijn