Thirsty Cacti

Many say that the deserts of the American Southwest are some of the most beautiful places on earth. I would argue that the summer desert is a terrifying and intimidating place- made all the more eerie by the small squares of irrigated grass and dehydrated cacti found slapped in the middle of the arid valleys. That said, there is no other place like the desert and so my visit to the fault-lined resort of Palm Springs is worth writing about!

One of the first things that I learned after flying over the irrigated golf courses of Palm Springs was that the town of Palm Springs doesn’t actually have any indigenous Palm trees. It is strangely named after springs which nurture stands of indigenous palm trees miles away in the Indian Canyons. To witness the visual starkness of a natural oasis sans golf courses take the drive out to the canyons and hike through a forest of Palm Trees in Palm Canyon. This is a truly special ecosystem because most other palms in the United States are not indigenous. This is California at its most extreme and is worth a trek out in the blistering desert heat. Don’t forget to bring lots of water!

When I arrived at my hotel room I immediately opened my room’s curtains. I opened them to a view of one of the ugliest mountain ranges I can remember. I tried to call it beautiful- but all that I could think was- Gosh I wouldn’t want to be lost out there. Rising before me was a big wall of brown, forbidding, MEAN looking mountains. Looking down- to check out the area around the hotel I saw that the cacti were being watered. Wow- I didn’t think that you had to water cacti!

During my visit I had the opportunity to see the raggedy splendor of this resort town. Every Thursday night Palm Springs offers an open air market and street festival. Tourists wander around to different restaurants and kiosks to buy crafts and sample slushies and your standard street fair treats. I enjoyed lots of treats and watched some eccentric performances. Turns out that Lucille Ball loved Palm Springs and there is a fabulous statue in homage to the star. There are also some gold sidewalk stars along the roads with great directors, actors, and artists from this little town’s heyday as a celebrity haven.

The town was exotic, and fragile. The menacing mountains seemed to constantly emphasize that without the carefully timed sprinklers and far away Colorado river water the sweltering little town would vanish. On my way out of town I drank a big glass of complimentary lemon water and rolled into the open air airport. I marveled at the airport playground right by the runway and thought abut the former fame of this little town of green surrounded by brown. This time I was happy to be headed home.