Anza-Borrego: Losing Myself in the Desert - California, USA
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Stumble It!Anza-Borrego: Losing Myself in the Desert
California, USA
There's something about that slightly disoriented feeling you wake up with on the first day of a trip. It's part jet lag, part lack-of-sleep loopiness, but it morphs into the bliss of finding yourself in a new place.
I woke with that feeling at the Econolodge in Ontario, CA. It had been nearly two a.m. when I checked in, after arriving on a Jet Blue midnight flight and waiting for the lone sleepy rental car clerk. I figured I'd sleep late, so it seemed like a bonus to be on the road by nine.
I was in one of those Lucky Traveler moods. I think I was actually humming "Oh, What a Beautiful Mornin'." Not owning a car - living as I do in a city where it would be superfluous - just getting behind the wheel feels like an adventure. I headed due south, through farm country, then picked up the 15 freeway. It seemed a good omen when I stumbled upon the Temecula Valley wine region. I randomly picked out three wineries to visit, but stopped at one, as the wine was so good that I didn't spit it out. Figured two more wineries and I'd be spending the night in Temecula.
From Temecula, I cut over the mountains on S22, one of those wonderful, windy mountain roads that surprise you at every turn. I passed a series of Burma Shave signs posted in someone's yard: Don't pass cars/On curve or hill/If the cops/Don't get you/Morticians will. What was really strange, though, was the Historic Marker. A road sign warned that it was approaching; still I nearly missed the spot, screeching over to the shoulder and backing into the circular drive. It was not quite what I was expecting: a plaque commemorating two Border patrolmen who were murdered "in this area" in 1987. It was kind of creepy, as no one else was around. And I couldn't help but think about all of those signs for correctional facilities I'd just passed.
Remnants of snow littered the roadside at the top of the mountain; I started worrying about my lack of climatic preparedness. Those fears melted with the dirty snow, however, as I started to descend into the valley. Couldn't help but stop at every pullout for photo ops. It was so clear, I could see the Salton Sea in the distance. The town of Borrego Springs looked like a tiny patchwork of green and brown, a true oasis in the desert.
I checked into the Oasis Motel, a funky little cinderblock joint. The architecture, along with an ancient coil heater imbedded in the wall, lead me to believe the place was built in the 40s - quite likely, as Borrego Springs once aspired to be the next Palm Springs. The Hollywood glitterati came in the 50s, but Borrego Springs turned out to be a one-hit wonder, and reverted to a sleepy desert town. The Oasis did have a pool, and even if it was a bit chilly, what could be better after a hot desert hike?
(I also checked out the Hacienda del Sol, a nicer, and slightly cheaper, motel in the center of town. It had a pretty little layout, a pleasant seating area in the lobby, and according to the guy at the desk you could watch the sunrise (or was it sunset?) out in front of the units. Neither of the motels have phones in the rooms, but the public library has computers with Internet access).
After stopping in at the Anza-Borrego Desert State Park visitors' center to pick up a map, I attempted to hike to Pena Springs, from the Culp Valley (author's note 1) campground. Parts of the dirt road had washboard ridges, some so deep I feared getting Mr. Avis' car stuck. But no problem, one really doesn't need a BAC (author's note 2) on these roads.
The hiking trail had four big markers in the first 10 feet or so, then nothing. I followed a dry arroyo, shadowing footprints in the sandy soil. Sometimes I followed hoofprints. After an hour or so a yellow-tipped metal pole stood like a beacon on the ridge. Was this the end? No, the trail seemed to go on...a large boulder held a puddle of water, but I saw nothing resembling a spring. Eventually I turned back, thinking the spring was probably dry anyway. There had been no rain here since July. Still, it was a good hike, up a hill with views of the valley below. It was incredible how loud the silence could be...I'd stop on occasion to make sure, and indeed it was my own footsteps making all that racket.
Everything shuts down so early, there's nothing to do but turn in early. There are limited restaurant choices in Borrego Springs, and no nightlife to speak of. Unless you're part of the Senior Set. Gangs of snowbirds (or are they sunbirds?) took up the whole bar at the resort with the Olde Weste motif, which was just as well...but I have to admit I was surprised at how loud they were. I have nothing against Senior Citizens, but I've traveled alone enough to know that if I had walked into that bar, I would have been absconded by that group. It's happened before, and it can be great fun - but I was still enjoying my solitude.
The early rising turned out to be a good idea. I hiked up the Palm Canyon trail, the park's most popular destination. Setting out at 7, I passed a few other hikers, and even met one coming down! Follow a well-marked, self-guided nature trail an easy two miles up the canyon, and you'll find yourself in a stunningly beautiful grove of skirted palm trees, with creeks and little waterfalls providing the soundtrack to your reverie. I got so lost in mine, in fact, that I nearly missed the major part of the grove and the pools. I'd stepped off the trail a bit early, and laid on a smooth rock watching the palms dancing against the blue sky.
Back in Borrego Springs, I had a nice lunch at the Badlands Café, an upscale sandwich shop that, unfortunately, closes at 3 pm. Admittedly a bit boutique-y, the Badlands has good food and not bad prices (at least compared to my neighborhood) and is probably the best food option in town. I myself became hooked on a spritzy lime soda laced with chili.
Figuring the afternoon would be too hot for hiking, I drove all the way out S22, through the Badlands (a geographic phenomenon, not the Bruce Springsteen kind) to the Salton Sea. The "Sea" is the largest inland surface water body in California, at 360 square miles. It's sustained mainly by agricultural drainage and storm runoff. And it smells like it. (The California Park Service provides an information sheet claiming that the Sea is not polluted, and that the "sulphur fragrance" comes from a manure-burning electricity plant in Imperial. Whatever).
The "Sea" was created 90 years ago by a collaboration of man and nature. Apparently there was an inland body of water that evaporated 500 years ago, leaving salt beds. The salt beds were mined during the 1800s, and with their profitability came population growth. As more people settled in the area, irrigation canals were built to divert water from the Colorado River to the Salton Basin. Then, in 1905, Nature declared payback time, and the Colorado flooded, and for 16 months rushed back into its old channels. A new Sea was formed.
The town of Salton is another story. A "resort" or beach community that has definitely seen better days, the roads are lined with derelict motels and empty diners. There are a couple of places to access the beach, but one sniff and look at the mudflats will probably kill any thoughts of a nice swim. There are bungalow neighborhoods and trailer parks, however, so it might be livelier in summer.
After a couple of hours' driving, I was itching to get on my feet again, so decided on a short, late afternoon hike on the "Elephant Tree Trail." The trail was not much, and frankly I wasn't all that impressed with the elephant trees, but I joined a group of Sierra Club hikers from Northern California - six women, all well into the senior years. The hike was enlivened by the conversation, and I appreciated the desert flora more thanks to their explanations. They'd traveled down with a group of 15 ladies and were camping at the Palm Canyon grounds (where the hiking trail begins). You go, girls!
The next day I hiked the Maidenhair Falls trail, and despite being joined by a couple of women with a guidebook (!) we never found the falls. It was a nice hike nonetheless, ending (for us) at a small palm oasis. Later, I picked up a book in a shop showing a picture of a lovely waterfall raining down on a smiling hiker. Apparently the falls were 200 meters beyond the Palm grove, "through a narrow rock crevice." I vowed to buy a real guidebook next time.
On my last day, I headed out to Aqua Caliente County Park, which lies either just inside or just outside the boundaries of Anza-Borrego. The park contains a campground and a hot springs, which is why I went there; however, the pool is developed, covered, and chlorinated. I thought I'd try a short hiking trail above the campground, but aborted the hike a few meters up, when the sun grew too hot and I again lost the trail. Enough already! I thought. But this area provided me with an unexpected, and slightly jarring, cultural experience. From the trailhead, about every 10 meters - wherever there was a rock or a tree providing shade - sat a Korean woman clutching a holy book and wailing, chanting, or singing. I don't know the significance of the spot and didn't want to interrupt anyone's prayers to ask, but some of these gals seemed to have some serious demons to exorcise.
I enjoyed my days at Anza-Borrego, despite my lack of trail-savvy. Desert hiking is quiet, and relaxing - at least if you like heat and sun, as I do. There are many more hikes to choose from - the park covers 600,000 acres. Nights are quiet, and the stargazing - even just outside the motel - is astounding. The desert wildflowers are reputedly gorgeous, in years when there is sufficient rainfall (not this year!) but even with a dearth of blooms the colors are lovely, as is the scent of desert lavender. I'd be happy if the trails were better marked, but my purpose was to lose myself in the desert, figuratively speaking, which I nearly did literally. So now I know, and next time I'll spring for a guidebook, a good map and a compass.
Author's note 1: Yes, this gave me quite a thrill! According to the book Anza Borrego, A-Z, Culp Valley was named for either a cattleman named John Kolp, or another named Orval Kolb. Kolbs lived in Temecula as early as 1869. They were apiarists, stock raisers, and teamsters. My father has traced his family back to 16th century Germany, and we were originally Kolbs. I'm hoping to discover that I'm heir to a vineyard in Temecula!
Author's note 2: Big Asshole Cars, aka SUVs.
Borrego Springs Hotels:
Oasis Motel
366 Palm Canyon Drive
(760) 767-5409
No phones, yes pool, no pets. $69/night in March.
Hacienda Del Sol
610 Palm Canyon Drive
(760) 767-5442
Motel rooms $60/night in March. Apartments & cottages also available.
The Palms at Indian Head
22220 Hoberg Road
(800) 519-2624
No phones, but a big pool and a pricey restaurant. Rooms start at $119/night.
Borrego Springs Restaurants:
Badlands Market & Café
561 Palm Canyon Drive
Yummy sandwiches and fancy salads. Decent coffee, great cold drink selection. Closes early.
Pabilito's of the Desert
In The Center (a strip mall)
Tasty Mexican food at decent prices. Huge list of multi-flavored Margaritas, but I can only vouch for the traditional lime on the rocks.
Krazy Coyote Saloon & Grille
22220 Hoberg Road (The Palms at Indian Head)
They call it "gourmet dining," I call it overpriced. Happy Hour offers discount well drinks and domestic beers-but watch out Easterners, out here in California, Sam Adams is an import!
Carlee's Place
Palm Canyon Drive, near Christmas Circle
Half noisy sports bar, half Denny's. I don't know, American "Carry-Oaky" joints scare me. This is probably a good place for a hamburger - stay away from the veggie burger.
Links:
Anza-Borrego Desert State Park
Anita didn't take digital pictures, but somebody did.
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