"They're the unofficial park guardians," said friend and novelist Deanne Stillman, whose "Joshua Tree: Desolation Tango" was published this year. "Why should there be a mega dump for LA's refuse next to one of the crown jewels of the nation's park system?"
Ontario-based Kaiser Ventures first broached the idea of turning the site of its former Eagle Mountain iron-ore pits into a garbage dump in 1987. The county agreed to buy the property for $41 million once the lawsuits were resolved. Officials want to send about 20,000 tons of Los Angeles garbage per day by rail and truck for the next century.
The Charpieds have devoted countless hours to the legal battle. It has taken an economic and social toll on their lives and, at times, strained their marriage.
Their hatred for Kaiser, which they call "the polluters," is palpable and seems to have only deepened with time. So has their resolve.
"If that dump comes to fruition, civil disobedience will kick in," vowed Donna Charpied, who at 5-foot-3 is hardly imposing. "People will be lying on the railroad tracks."
This devotion to their beliefs is what brought them to the desert .
In their 20s, the couple lived in Santa Barbara, regularly protesting offshore oil drilling and the Diablo Canyon nuclear plant. Eventually, they decided to take their commitment a step further.
In 1981, they moved to an 8-foot-by-28-foot trailer on a dusty patch of land in Desert Center, Riverside -- more than an hour's drive from the nearest grocery store. Over time, they grew to appreciate the quiet isolation of the desert's harsh wilderness. Their little farm is surrounded by views of the sunburned mountains and arid canyons of Joshua Tree National Park, where thorny trees reach into an expansive blue sky.
"To look at the night skies, you'll never see so many stars in your life," she said. "You can see for 100 miles into Arizona from our farm."
As farmers, the plan was to build a house and raise a modest jojoba crop.
