The Breathtaking Superbloom in Anza-Borrego Desert State Park

I waited nearly a decade to experience Anza-Borrego Desert State Park in full bloom.

I missed the superbloom in 2017. I’d heard the stories—fields ablaze with color, wildflowers carpeting the desert floor like nature decided to throw a party and forgot to clean up. But life had other plans that year, and by the time I made it out to Anza-Borrego the next season, the desert was back to its stoic self: dry, rugged, with only a few barrel cactus blossoms scattered like leftover confetti from a celebration I never attended.

But this year? Thanks to an incredibly wet Southern California winter, Anza-Borrego isn’t just blooming—it’s going off like fireworks on the Fourth of July. Located northeast of San Diego in the Colorado Desert, this wild, remote expanse is showing off in a way that makes you question if you’re still on the same planet.

We knew we weren’t the only ones with the brilliant idea to chase wildflowers that weekend. So, fueled by equal parts excitement and an unreasonable amount of caffeine, we hit the road shortly after 4 a.m. The goal: beat the crowds, dodge the selfie sticks, and find a patch of desert that still felt untouched.

As we cruised past Temecula, Palomar Mountain, and Lake Henshaw, the landscape unfolded like a slow burn. Green fields rolled out, horses grazing lazily, cows dotting the hillsides as if placed there for aesthetic effect. Then came Montezuma Valley Road, a steep, winding descent with views so vast and clear you could almost touch the Salton Sea shimmering in the distance.

We pulled into Borrego Springs just after sunrise. The early wake-up call paid off—the parking lot at the visitor center was practically empty. After forking over the $10 day-use fee, we stepped into a world that felt suspended in time. The temperature hovered around 82 degrees, warm but not oppressive, the kind of weather that makes you feel alive without making you question your life choices.

Armed with maps and wildflower updates from the Anza-Borrego Desert Natural History Association (bless them for their accuracy), we set out. Our route became a patchwork of spontaneous stops along Henderson Canyon Road, Di Giorgio Road, Borrego Springs Road, and Palm Canyon Drive. It was like a treasure hunt, except the treasure was everywhere, unapologetically flaunting itself.

What did we see? More like, what didn’t we see. Blonde dandelions catching the morning light, purple sand verbenas painting the ground with bursts of violet, golden poppies popping like drops of sunshine. Bright yellow desert sunflowers stood tall, while evening dune primrose and pink monkey flowers whispered from the sidelines. Purple lupine, white desert chicory, and even the elusive whispering bells made an appearance.

And sometimes, it was just us. No crowds. No noise. Just the soft hum of nature doing its thing—butterflies floating like confetti caught in a breeze, birds providing the perfect soundtrack, and wildflowers swaying in rhythm with the warm morning air. It was peaceful in a way that made you forget about emails, deadlines, and that one embarrassing thing you said three years ago at a party.

Was it worth the wait? Absolutely.

On the drive back, the contrast was stark. The once-empty roads were now clogged with cars, eager faces pressed against windshields, park rangers redirecting traffic, visitor centers turning people away.

So if you’re planning to witness the superbloom, here’s my advice: go soon. Go early. Go with a heart ready to be humbled by something so simple, yet so extraordinary. Because this kind of magic doesn’t stick around.