Mean IN yl OA i) ANAL Hanan NMA i eee (bY Nas j i eh NU oa PO INN) Ln) OM Whe Nd ha Uk #, / ; Aft ‘ Nir Py dail SRM ET RNY art Other Books by J. Smeaton Chase CALIFORNIA DESERT TRAILS: with Ap- pendix of Plants, also Hints on Desert Travelling. Illustrated. CALIFORNIA COAST TRAILS: A Horseback Ride from Mexico to Oregon. Illustrated. YOSEMITE TRAILS: Camp and Pack-Train in the Yosemite Region of the Sierra Nevada. Illustrated. CONE-BEARING TREES OF THE CALI- FORNIA MOUNTAINS. TMlustrated. By J. Smeaton Chase and Charles Hrancis, Saunders THE CALIFORNIA PADRES AND THEIR MISSIONS. Illustrated. OUR AR A BY A VISTA IN OUR ARABY: MT. SAN JACINTO IN THE BACKGROUND OUR ARABY: PALM SPRINGS AND THE THE GARDEN OF THE SUN BY J. SMEATON CHASE Illustrated from Photographs by the Author: WITH A DESCRIPTIVE LIST OF DESERT PLANTS, ETC. AND HINTS TO DESERT MOTORISTS: ALSO A NEW MAP OF THE REGION BY THE U. S. GEOLOGICAL SURVEY PRINTED FOR J. SMEATON CHASE, PALM SPRINGS, CALIFORNIA BY STAR-NEWS PUBLISHING COMPANY PASADENA, CALIFORNIA 1920 Feaq PisC4s Copyright 1920 by J. Smeaton Chase All Rights Reserved JEC 28 1920 SlLA605137 PAK ) FOREWORD apply to Southern California the term “Our Italy.” The territory described in the follow- ing pages may certainly be better designated Our Araby; and just as Italy attracts many travellers while Arabia appeals to few, so of the multitude of Californians and California tourists, not many, relatively, are likely to wish to visit the desert: and this is fortunate, for if too much peopled its charm would be lost. leg LATE Charles Dudley Warner used to This little book is designed to serve three ends: to invite people of the right kind—not too many— to a region that is meant for the discerning few; to help them while here to enjoy it to the full; and to please them, when they have departed, with recol- lections of things thought and felt, seen and done, in a tract of country wholly out of the ordinary. It is hoped that the United States Geological Survey map, supplied in the back of the book, will be found a useful adjunct. Being the only official map yet issued which is complete of the locality dealt with, it meets a definite need. The writer has pleasure in acknowledging the courtesy of the Survey in granting permission to reproduce it, and also to reprint from one of their valuable publica- tions the Hints to Motorists which will be found in the Appendix. He is under obligations also to FOREWORD Professor Joseph Grinnell, of the Museum of Verte- brate Zoology of the University of California, for aid in revising the lists of birds and mammals. GUNTE NTS I. Patm Sprincs: Its SIruATION AND SurRROUNDINGS 11 1G ts oe Ar Go 7 Wes Pa TAMAR eel USD My a NAACP Rea 7 ETT e REDE UN IDTAN SV yesh ten esas hyp BARC AIS an el hs Welen) ey TIVES OAUMITISEEMIBIN IES W iui (/eeti Dicey Fenny ca ap aun NY) CSE a] cn ne ey V. Trips TO THE CANONS AND OTHER NoTaBLe Points 39 Vie ED OR AG AND BUAIINA E10) TE jae a Dis SiN 2D Tare sea VII. NorviceaBLe PLANTS OF THE DESERT _ -— — — 96 AVANT e CTIA TES AUN! DATE: THR alec eer eect eR EN BiG Ty IX. AccOMMODATION AND CONVENIENCES ANDUELOWATO! COMEM WAN ye intes ded 1S an Rta APPENDIX: Hints TO Motorists ~ —~ ~ — - 82 Re US PRA ONS A Vista IN Our ArasBy: Mr. San JAcINTO IN DEE ACKGROUND ii pai ien an norubus pleceu ne A Patm-Lovep Poot IN THE GARDEN OF THE SuN _ 14% PALME SPRINGS INDIANS VAT, ELOME)) 2. is) aN en hee SER PP ATIMS: ORM OURACATUABY whiten than ele eRe ti tid heed (ee DADETE VEO ONDIGH TY SONAT AMI eM ienpe ee yl het dae Merle aN se From a painting by Mr. Carl Eytel, Palm Springs At Two-Buncu Pats: Mr. San Gorconro EN ELE DISTANCE c25) neem n MOA y NNN a ash hy 21) hea Re PO UN) a THE BiznaGa, A STRANGE INHABITANT OF THE CARDENWOF | THE (SUN A Meay Meant eh Cn Win Coen Aten AE OCOTMELOWAND! PATO! VERDE) 2 )eeunes ie tale uniee n GO) ee AW SHADY LANE WAT) PALM SPRINGS) (Wubi to ied) oe Alea aa | SAN MAT) 8 4 unl ed wi URNA hha Oy WR WA ROA I. PALM SPRINGS: ITS SITUATION AND SURROUNDINGS conspicuous, like another Shasta, at the southern end of the great Sierra which forms the backbone of California. To south and west the great mountain faces a land diversified with hill and valley, farm and cattle-range, stretch- ing to the Mexican line and the Pacific: to north and east it looks steeply down upon a strange sun- blanched land, the pale, mysterious desert. From its topmost crags, garnished with storm-wrenched pines, to the gray levels where palm-fronds quiver under torrid blasts of sun there is a fall of over two miles of altitude within an air-line distance but three miles greater; from which it may be gathered (as is indeed the fact) that this desert face of San Jacinto offers to the view a mountain wall unparal- leled for its conjunction of height and verticality —in effect, a vast precipice of ten thousand feet. Mi OUNT SAN JACINTO stands isolated and Right at the mountain’s eastern foot, where the red rock-slabs rise sharply from the gray desert floor, lies the village of Palm Springs. Geographi- cally it is a village unique. One might well call it the child of the mountain, for it lives in the moun- 12 Our ARABY tain’s protection and is nourished out of its veins. Two streams of purest water here break from San Jacinto’s rocky heart, and make possible this Garden of the Sun, an oasis of pleasant life where Nature had said no life should be except the hard, wild life of her desert children—the plants and animals and Indians of a land of drought. The village lies at an elevation of 452 feet above sea-level, well toward the foot of the long gradient which runs, smooth as a waterline for league on league, from the summit of San Gorgonio Pass— the gateway and dividing point between California Green and California Gray—down to the great depression where dreams the Salton, that pale, weird Lake-below-the-Sea which came into being (whether for the tenth or hundredth time, who knows?) some fifteen years or so ago when the Colorado River took a fancy to stretch his watery limbs wider in the sun. Bounding this gradient on the north and east runs the level wall of the east- ward extension of San Jacinto’s twin mountain, San Bernardino, beyond which wall there is a twin desert, the Mojave. The low narrow scoop, six to ten miles wide, which lies between mountain and mountain, forming a westerly arm of the Colorado Desert, was marked on old maps as the Cahuilla (Ka-we'-ah) Valley, but is now known as the Coachella—a meaningless substitution—and has of late years become famous as a sort of Little Arabia, the source of the earliest of figs, grapes, melons, and asparagus, and especially of those latest and - PALM SPRINGS 13 best of horticultural novelties, American-grown dates—whoever has not tried them should lose no time. In its snug elbow at the head of this valley lies our little oasis. I named it unique, and make no apologies for the word. Walled up thus and all but overhung on the west by the mountain, what kind of landscape is it that spreads north, east, and south from Palm Springs? Strangely, it is one that fascinates by reason of its apparent lack of interest. Looked at in the large, one might even call it dreary, this gray level, tree- less and waterless, dotted over with small shrubs and herbage so monotonously alike as to seem machine-made: a wholesale kind of land, all of a piece for leagues at a stretch. Yet this is the land which, if not at first view yet on very short acquaint- ance, lays hold of you with a charm so deep and strong that it has passed into a catch-phrase—the lure of the desert. Explain it how you may (or give it up for unexplainable, as most people do,) there it undoubtedly is, and none but the most unresponsive of mankind can escape or deny it. Unless you are one of those it will surely “get you,” given the chance, and you will find yourself, without knowing how or why, a Companion of the Most Ancient Order of Lovers of the Desert, an Order which far outranks Masonry in age, and might claim Ishmael or Esau, possibly even Nim- rod, for its founder. But I was going to describe a few main features of Palm Springs’ outlook, One’s attention is at once 14 Our ARABY attracted to two great hills of sand which rise in smooth, dome-like contour a few miles straight ahead, that is, to the east. The larger is, I should guess, five hundred feet or so high, the smaller much less, and both probably represent outlying rocky foothills which, forming obstructions in the path of the wind that blows down the Pass, have in course of ages become submerged under the slow, all-obliterating tide of wind-driven sand. There is something queerly fascinating about these dunes. It may be partly the tricks of light and shade, the chameleon-like play of color which they exhibit; but there is some subtler quality, too. Perhaps there is aroused by the sight of that heap of sand- atoms a geological instinct akin to the sense of infinitude which is raised by the inconceivable figures of astronomy; or perhaps one’s sense of curiosity is touched, and subconsciously one won- ders what may be hidden under that blanket of sand that defies the eye with its suave, unrevealing out- line. However it be, there is something about the great dunes that stamps them strongly on the mind. Turning to the south the view takes in a sort of bay or backwater—barring the water—of mountain- enclosed desert which may be considered as Palm Springs’ private back-yard. Into it open the four cafions which are Palm Springs’ pride, viz: Tah- quitz, Andreas, Murray, and Palm, the last three being the scenic cream of Our Araby, and notable especially for their remarkable display of the native California palm. It is this tract which it is A PALM-LOVED POOL IN THE GARDEN OF THE SUN PALM SPRINGS 15 now proposed to set aside as a National Park, and a striking addition it will be to the splendid list of American Wonderlands. This bay, or pocket, enclosed on three sides by mountains, forms, as it were, a neat little compendium or miniature of the greater desert, while Santa Rosa’s fine bulk, over- looking it in the background, gives it even an extra touch of pictorial completeness. And when, in winter and spring, the snowy maltese cross shines on the mountain’s forehead, we of Palm Springs may be excused for indulging the fancy that our particular bit of desert is distinguished and in a way hallowed by the sacred emblem. So wholly distinctive is the locality I speak of that an effort is needed to realize that so slight a distance separates it from the familiar landscapes of the coast regions. As a matter of fact, the differ- ence between the desert and coast regions takes effect almost instantaneously, so to speak, at the summit of the San Gorgonio Pass. Thus it occurs that from Palm Springs, well out on the desert, to Riverside and Redlands, the center of California’s finest cultivation, is but a matter of fifty-five miles, while Pasadena and Los Angeles are but fifty miles farther away, with the Pacific only a. trifle more. This operates not only to make the journey from one to the other perfectly easy but also to render the change spectacular and interesting in a high degree. To breakfast late at the beach, or “in town,” to lunch leisurely at the Mission Inn at Riverside (which is strictly the comme il faut thing 16 Our ARABY to do) and lounge for an hour afterwards among the famed groves and avenues of the citrus belt, and then by mid-afternoon to be arriving at our little oasis in time for a cup of tea and a desert sunset—this ought to be easy enough and spec- tacular enough for even the sophisticated tourist of the nineteen-twenties. IJ. THE VILLAGE ILLAGE is a pretty word, though ambitious settlements are keen to disclaim the implied rusticity and to graduate into the rank of town or city. Palm Springs has no such aims, and is well content to remain far down the list in census returns. We decline to take part in the race for Improvements, and are (so we feel, anyway) wise enough to know when we are well off. Rural Free Delivery does not entice us: we prefer the daily gathering at the store at mail-time, Indians and whites together, where we can count on catching Miguel or Romualda if we wish to hire a pony or get the washing done. Electric lights? No, thanks: somehow nothing seems to us so homelike for the dinner-table as shaded candles, or for fireside read- ing a good kerosene lamp: while if we want to call on a neighbor after dark, we find that a lantern sheds light where you need it instead of illuminat- ing mainly the upper air. To us cement sidewalks would be a calamity: we may be dusty, but dust is natural and we prefer it. After all, the pepper- or cottonwood-shaded streets of our Garden of the Sun are really only country lanes, and who wants a country lane cemented? In fact, a little mistake was made when they were named. Cottonwood Row would have been better than Indian Avenue, and 18 Our ARABY Hot Springs Lane than the commonplace Spring Street. The Hot Spring is the outstanding natural feature of our village, though not so natural as when one took one’s bath in the rickety cabin which antedated the present solid little bath-house. However, the Spring itself is as natural, no doubt, as any time this five or ten thousand years: and you may get as weird a sensation in taking your bath, and as healthful a result afterwards, as bygone generations of Cahuillas have enjoyed. The water, which is just comfortably hot and contains mineral elements which render it remarkably curative, comes up mingled with quantities of very fine sand. You may bask in the clear water on the surface of the pool, or, if you want all the fun you can get for your money, you may lower yourself into the very mouth of the spring where the mixture comes gurgling up. This will yield you (especially at night and by candle-light) a novel and somewhat shuddery experience, though one absolutely without risk; and you will come forth with a sense of fitness and fine- ness all over to which only a patent medicine adver- tisement writer of high attainments could possibly do justice. Our village is bisected by the Reservation line, which thus makes a geographical division of the population. Only geographical, though, for, fortu- nately, there has never been anything but complete harmony between whites and Indians. Something more will be said about the Indians later: here I THE VILLAGE 19 will only remark that I, for one, could not wish for better neighbors than our Indians: I should be pleased, indeed, to feel sure that they could say as much for us. They are but few in number, forty or fifty, for the Cahuillas are scattered in small rancherias over a wide territory. The white popula- tion is variable. In winter and spring, when the “Standing Room Only” sign hangs out, there may be a total of two hundred or more residents and visitors (the latter much the more numerous:) in the hot months residents may number a dozen or two and visitors there are none. In desert phrase, the whites have “gone inside” (i. e., to the coast), an odd turn of speech but one quite appropriate to the point of view of the man of Big Spaces— “inside” where one is shut in and boxed up. You will understand when you have lived a little while in Our Araby. For so small a place, the number of people who have fallen under the charm of Palm Springs, and their variety of class and kind, are rather surprising. You would agree as to the latter point if I were to begin to mention names. Wealth and fashion, as such, are not much attracted to our village: Palm Beach, not Palm Springs, is their mark: but among the fraternity of brains the word has passed about, and persons of mark are ever finding their way here, returning again and again, and bringing or sending others. But then, the importance of persons of mark in any community is apt to be over- estimated; the important thing is the general 20 Our ARABY quality, the average. The average with us is auto- matically raised by the total absence of any hooligan element, such as is sometimes in evidence on the sands of the sea-shore. To that class the sands of Our Araby do not appeal. On the other hand, the scientists, writers, painters, musicians,— in fact, all kinds of people who love quiet, thought- ful things and whose work or enjoyment lies in natural instead of artificial fields, come and share with us the wholesome pleasures and interests that are inherent in a clean, new, unspoiled bit of this wonderful old world. So much for the people. The village itself is a place of two or three score of unpretentious cottages scattered along half a dozen palm- and pepper- shaded streets. We don’t run much to lawns and formal gardens: we live in the desert because we like it, hence we don’t care to shut ourselves away in little citified enclosures. But the two or three old places which formed the nucleus of the settle- ment are bowers of bloom and umbrageous green- ery. Gray old fig-trees lean out over the sidewalk, while oranges, dates, grape-fruit, lemons, and trees of other sorts for fruit or ornament flourish in tribute to the memory of that wise old Scotsman and pioneer, Doctor Welwood Murray, who had the courage to plant and the patience to rear them in the teeth of horticultural disabilities. There remain to be mentioned our stores, inns, school, and church. Of these it is enough to say that they are well up to what would be expected in THE VILLAGE 2] a community such as ours: though one of the inns might fairly object that this statement comes short of doing it justice. There are, further, a minute Public Library, housed in a quaint little hutch of adobe, which, half a century ago, was the Stage Station, and a tasteful Rest-house raised as a me- morial to the old Scottish doctor, named above, who may fairly be termed the patriarch, well nigh the founder, of our village. Ill. THE INDIANS O SAY that the Indians make a main point iy in the interest of life in our village sounds patronizing, as though the whites were the natural residents and the Indians merely an inci- dental feature. Of course the reverse is the fact: we are the new-comers: whether “interesting” is the term they would apply to us, or some other, is open to speculation. However, the point is that they are an integral part of the charm of life in Our Araby. Their ways of life and points of view differ from ours enough to give them the attraction of novelty, while their independence and good nature render them congenial as friends and neighbors. This small band of Indians, a part of the widely- scattered Cahuilla tribe, have lived from time immemorial about the hot spring which gives the Indian village, or rancheria, the Spanish name of Agua Caliente, by which the Reservation is still officially known. (There are other places of this name in California, one being the village, formerly a rancheria of this same tribe, now generally called Warner’s Springs, in San Diego County.) They have long been Christianized, and are numbered among the so-called Mission Indians of California, being cared for, in religious matters, by the Roman Catholic priest stationed at Banning, while admin- istratively they are under the charge of a Govern- ANOH LV SNVIGNI SONTYdS WI1Vd THE INDIANS 23 ment Agent, whose headquarters are at the town of San Jacinto, on the other side of the mountain. The reproach of laziness, commonly levelled against Indians, cannot fairly be laid against the Indians of Palm Springs. The men either farm their own little holdings, or work for their white neighbors, or “hire out” on Coachella or Imperial ranches, or, at fruit-picking time, in the prune or almond orchards of the mountains. Some of them are well-to-do, with cattle or alfalfa to sell and horses to rent; besides which they have their patri- mony of monumental old fig-trees, scions of the famous Black Mission figs of San Gabriel (and you may have noticed that Palm Springs early figs do not go begging in Los Angeles markets.) Old Marcos is even the proud owner of a few of those original epoch-making date-palms which have opened a new chapter in American horticulture, and his Deglet Nurs have been adjudged by the knowing ones to be second to none. Of the women, some find time from their own employments to do laundry or other household work in the village, while, fortunately, one or two still practise the old arts and are notable weavers of baskets: a basket by Dolores, wife of Francisco Patencio, who lives down by the fiesta house, may well be counted a prize. The making of pottery, sad to say, has ceased: the white man’s cheap tin- ware has driven the artistic but fragile olla from the field. But about the sites of vanished Indian homes you will find the ground strewn with frag- 24 Our ARABY ments, and persons with a nose for relics now and then make interesting finds of pottery or basket- ware that was cached by long-dead hands in cran- nies of the rocks. Relic-hunters will find interest also in the picture-writings which adorn the walls of near-by caves, and in mortar-holes deeply sunk in granite boulders, mute witnesses to the back- breaking labors of departed generations of squaws. An experience decidedly worth while is yielded by the fiesta which is held in mid-winter of most years. It is a celebration of remembrance for the dead, and consists in dancing, in the chanting of traditional songs of the tribe, in feasting, and in, finally, the burning of effigies of those who have passed away since the previous occasion. The flicker - lighted gloom of the fiesta -house, the rhythmic manoeuvrings, and the unearthly ulula- tions that accompany them make a total sufficiently weird, even without such an adjunct as the eating of glowing coals from the fire by the medicine-man, a star performer from a neighboring rancheria. However, all this (which may well seem barbaric to the reader) must be understood as merely a belated survival from the dim old days, not by any means an indication of the ordinary manner of life of our thoroughly good friends and fellow-villagers, the Indians of Palm Springs. IV. AMUSEMENTS QUESTION that arises in many persons’ minds when one speaks of the desert as a place of any attractiveness is—But what can there be to do there? It is a natural question, too, for to most people the desert signifies only a region of dreariness and horror, a mere waste spot marring the earth’s wholesome fertility and beauty. That, however, is a total mistake, one of those conven- tional delusions that are based only on generations of popular misconception. Only one or two hundred years ago the forests and mountains in which we now delight were thought places of dread and ugliness. People simply hadn’t caught the idea; and today, as regards the desert, a few people are just beginning to catch it. Essentially, the desert is Nature in her simplest expression. Has it come to this—that Nature must be spiced up with amuse- ments before we can take pleasure in her? Surely space, quietude, and freedom are fine things: solitude can be magnificent: loneliness need not scare us as if we were lost kittens. However, as it happens, there are plenty of ways of amusing oneself actively on the desert. The most popular at Palm Springs, undoubtedly, is horseback riding, with or without the adjunct of a picnic. Our Araby is ideal for this sort of thing. The “ ‘ard igh road” is all right for the automobile, which 26 Our ARABY indeed has fairly claimed it for its own; but the glory of horseback is the cross-country feature, and here you have it unalloyed. The free fenceless desert stretches before you to the horizon, and wherever you guide your horse, something new, strange, or wonderful calls constantly for notice— new plants and animals, new colors, new shapes, (perhaps also new thoughts.) Thus, there are few Palm Springs mornings that you will not see some gay party cantering off on the wise Indian ponies bound for Palm Canon, or Andreas, or the dunes; or, maybe, starting more leisurely with saddle-bags and blanket-rolls on the longer trip down to the Salton Sea, or into the Morongos, or up the Vande- venter trail to Pinon Flat, or by the Gordon trail to Idyllwild in the pines. To those who are wedded to their ease and their autos plenty of inviting resources are open. Good or practicable roads have been built to several of the near-by cafons—notably to Palm Cafion, the favorite—and the main stage-road across the desert runs through Palm Springs, by which you may go down the valley as far as you like—or on to New York, for that matter. All the valley towns are on that road—Indio, Coachella, Thermal, Mecca—and from it one has access to all other roads and may explore whither and what he will—date-gardens, fig-groves, the haunts of the earliest grapes, melons, and asparagus: or may run down beside the Salton Sea to Imperial Valley, the land of cotton, and “the AMUSEMENTS 27 line,” beyond which lies the land of revolutions, distressful Mexico. The time has come, too, when flying must be counted in when one thinks of ways and means of amusement or of getting about. There is not, of course, much to be said yet on this score, but it may be remarked that Our Araby is not lagging behind the rest of the world, and already is critical of the pilot who fails to bring his “bus” neatly to earth regardless of cactus and creosote brush. Cer- tainly it would seem that the spacious, level desert is the very model of a natural airdrome, and I look to see aeronauts, professional and amateur, taking Nature’s hint and exploiting these advantages. A project is under way for forming the piece of country comprising Palm Canon and the picturesque localities adjacent thereto into a National Park. I hazard the guess that when this is done provision will be made for air-travel to and about the tract. The American tourist expects to have Nature served up in up-to-date fashion, and Uncle Sam may be trusted to comply. Under the next heading I outline some of the favorite trips, and the map, it is hoped, will be of use in planning and executing them and suggesting others. There is, so far, a glorious lack of “No Trespassing” signs in Our Araby: our cafions and palm-groves are not yet roped off and adorned with brusque notifications to “Keep Out”; but this state of things cannot be guaranteed to last forever. It 28 Our ARABY js the age of barbed wire, and even the desert cannot hope to escape it. Coming now to the more specific forms of amuse- ment, we have, for those who must be up to date, “the movies”: not the commonplace side of the great modern pastime, the sitting in a “palace” and watching the reeling off of pictures on a screen, but the more exciting first-hand experience of seeing them made, the thrill of the real thing, flesh and blood (with paint and powder thrown in.) In the last few years Palm Springs has become head- quarters, so to speak, for Algeria, Egypt, Arabia, Palestine, India, Mexico, a good deal of Turkey, Australia, South America, and sundry other parts of the globe. Wondrous are the sights and sounds the dwellers in Palm Springs are privileged to see and hear when “the movies are in town”: wondrous the “stars” that then shine in broad daylight on us; wondrous the cowboys, cavalcades, and caballeros, the tragedies, the feats of daring, the rescues and escapes, for which our dunes and cafions provide the setting. The quiet village becomes in fact a movie studio for the time, and the visitor whose ideal is “Something doing every minute” has then little reason to pine away with ennut. Moving pictures remind one of the other and, as a rule, less spectacular kind. Our Araby, with its marvelous display of tone and color—tone the most elusive, color the most unearthly and ethereal —is a land of enchantment to the painter, and its fame has spread from one to another until, now, AMUSEMENTS 29 every winter and spring sees painters of note studying these desert landscapes, so fascinatingly different in their problems of conception and handling from anything that commonly comes in the artist’s way. It looks more than likely that by ten or fifteen years from now a school of painters will have made Our Araby their province, just as now there are the Marblehead and Gloucester men in the East and the Newlyn men in England. A forerunner of the group I forecast has already been working for many years with Palm Springs for his headquarters, Mr. Carl Eytel, whose knowledge of his field has been earned, as it were, inch by inch and grain by grain, and whose conscientious work gives a truer rendering of the desert than do sen- sational canvases of the popular Wild West sort. The person must be very insensible to natural interests whose curiosity is not aroused by the markedly distinctive vegetable life which the desert offers to the view. From the moment that your train or auto begins to run down-grade on leaving Banning the fact is plain that you are, botanically speaking, in a new world. Gray, the livery of the desert, largely takes the place of green; stunted forms and bizarre shapes notify you that wholly different conditions here reign. Though you may have no leanings toward botany as a science or a hobby you will hardly fail to be interested by the novel objects that surround you, and are likely to find yourself botanizing mildly before you know it, if only to the extent of learning the name of the 30 Our ARABY cactus that scratched you, or whether it was a mesquit or a catclaw that tore your clothes. The cacti alone are “worth the money”: the biznaga, for instance, on close acquaintance is a most engaging fellow, and seriously, no one should go through life without interviewing a cholla. A tree that is as green as grass, yet has no leaves, is worth one’s notice: so is one that is total gray and pricklier than an armful of hedgehogs, and another that bears for fruit a neat imitation of a handful of screws. But it is when the Great Spring Flower Show comes on, especially if the rains have come just right, that our Garden of the Sun shows what it is capable of botanically. In January one or two early-waking plants, such as crimson beloperone and yellow bladder-pod, modestly start the show. February brings the wild heliotrope and the first hint of the glory of the verbenas, with clouds of wild plum in the cafions. March is a steady crescendo of color, and by mid-April the riot is on and Flora is emptying her lap over the desert in cascades of multi-hued bloom. On the levels, pools of rosy-purple verbenas spread out and run together into lakes; the mountain slopes, built of slabs of uncompromising rock, by some magic con- trive to send out myriads of golden blossoms of the incense-bush; the canons turn into mazes and tangles of flowering rarities that go to the head of the most experienced botanist. Now is the time to notice how admirable even a cactus can be when _— THE PALMS OF OUR ARABY AMUSEMENTS Sih Spring gets into its blood; you will hardly match those silky cups of purple or cerise in greenhouses of millionaires. The ocotillo, too—where will you find anything floral that is finer in its way than that flaming scarlet tongue? It is the desert’s own fierce flower, not on any account to be missed, and well worth the ride down to Deep Cajon, even if the ride showed you nothing else worth your notice, which would be strange indeed.* There is plenty of interesting matter here, too, for those to whom animal life appeals. For bird study, especially, this locality offers exceptional facilities, for the San Gorgonio Pass is the great migration highway for a large region, and the Palm Springs oasis, lying at the foot of the pass, forms a natural stopping-place for the small travelers. It is for this reason a favorite station for bird-men, as it is for naturalists in general. Beetle-men and butterfly-men, mouse-and-gopher-men, and devotees of all sorts of zoological ramifications with alarm- ing names spend rapturous days in Our Araby, collecting, studying, and classifying, with ever in view the thrilling chance of coming upon something new—a kangaroo-rat with tail measurement three millimeters greater than any yet recorded in the halls of science, or some phenomenal development of the maxillary arch in a short-nosed pocket-mouse. Such triumphs have in the past shed lustre upon *Under the heading of Flora and Fauna will be found a list of all the desert plants likely to be observed, with brief descriptions which will aid in identifying them. 32 Our ARABY zoologically-minded visitors to Palm Springs, which already has a gopher and a ground-squirrel “named for it”:—why not again? Suspicious people, noticing that I have said nothing as to reptiles, may ask “What about the snakes?” Here comes in another popular miscon- ception, the idea that the desert swarms with rattle- snakes, sidewinders, and Gila monsters. The fact is that rattlesnakes are certainly no more numerous on the desert than in the coast or mountain regions: I think on the whole they are fewer here. As for the sidewinder (which is simply the desert’s special form of rattlesnake), in several years’ experience I have seen but two, one of which was dead when found, while the other was hailed with rejoicing and carried home tenderly in a tomato-can (being needed for photographic purposes) , having been an object of daily search for two or three months. The Gila monster, rare at best, is never seen in or near this part of the desert. Ordinary lizards we have in plenty, but they, of course, are wholly harmless, even friendly and amusing. The chuck- walla, with his alligator look, may not be charming, but need cause no alarm to anything bigger than a house-fly. But this is aside from the matter of the amuse- ments Our Araby offers her visitors. A few words as to sporting possibilities will not come amiss to lovers of rod and gun. Fishing will hardly be looked for on the desert: indeed, the mention of the rod may seem like rather a futile joke. Not AMUSEMENTS 33 quite so, however: for ten miles from Palm Springs is Snow Creek, which comes down from San Jacinto Mountain (debouching about opposite Whitewater Station) and offers fair trout-fishing, as does also the stream in Whitewater Cafion, a few miles away across the valley from Snow Creek. This, I must confess, exhausts the fishing possibilities of Our Araby, unless one is minded to try what can be done with the Salton Sea, where some kinds of coarse fish, principally mullet, are plentiful and seem to give good sport for the gulls and pelicans. There is more to be said for the gun, however.* Quail are numerous, and give excellent shooting when in season. On the open sandy levels the desert or Gambel quail in good coveys will be found in the vicinity of mesquit thickets: in the canons the valley species exists in fair numbers: while at higher altitudes the mountain quail appears. Doves may be had anywhere near water by gunners who care to shoot those trustful creatures. A few snipe and duck can be found if one knows where to look for them, but, naturally, such spots are few and far between in Our Araby. The duck-hunter who cares to go so far as to the Salton Sea, however, may expect good sport. *It should be noted that shooting on Indian Reservation land, except by Indians, is strictly prohibited by law. There is a good deal of such land in the neighborhood of Palm Springs besides that upon which the Indian village is situated. Hunters should inform themselves as to the boundaries of Indian land. 34 Our ARABY Rabbits—jack and cottontail—are a matter of course, though not so much so as in days gone by. Nowadays one may tramp a whole morning in the Palm Springs locality and hardly empty a barrel. Whither the bunnies have gone is rather a mystery. Yet I do know the spot I should make for should an urgent demand for cottontail-stew arise suddenly within me. No, I shall not name the place: that is a little secret between the coyotes and me. Coyotes and foxes, by-the-by, as also wildcats and mountain-lions, should perhaps be mentioned, but the first-named two are hardly game, while the others are only possibilities of cafon camps. Deer, however, are more than a possibility in some desert localities, though not, of course, on the low open levels. Pinon Flat, reached by the Vandeventer trail, and a good day’s trip from Palm Springs, is quite good deer country, and, incidentally, an interesting bit of territory to explore, with or with- out gun or rifle. Two other animals that come in the “big game” category may be named, though one of these, the antelope, has passed into history so far as Our Araby is concerned. A few antelope may linger on the stretches of almost untraveled country bordering on the Mexican line, but the chances are slight of this fine creature being ever again reported from the Colorado Desert. The other animal is the mountain-sheep (bighorn) which ranges in all the desert hills and canons, but is not to be counted for shooting purposes, being strictly protected by law, AMUSEMENTS 35 with no open season. I said strictly, but must add —O that it were strictly! for it is but too certain that since the appearance of the automobile (the worst foe of wild game everywhere) on the desert, the sheep have fallen victims to illicit shooting to a terrible extent. Parties of “sports”—the fellows who bear the same relation to sportsmen that “sents” do to gentlemen—lolling at ease in high- powered cars, now invade every part of the desert where a road leads to some remote mine or pros- pect, and blaze away at anything that moves, in mere intoxication of blood-lust: with result of many a wounded animal, ram or ewe just as it happens, dragging itself into some haunt inacces- sible to man, there to lingeringly perish:—the “sport” making the most of his contemptible feat by jubilant assertions of “Anyway, I know I hit him—saw him fall.” Beyond the active amusements, so to speak, which I have named, there are some immaterial pleasures to be enjoyed in Our Araby which, | venture to think, remain long in the memory of those who come here. It may sound commonplace to talk of sunset colorings and sunrise panoramas, but any- one who has watched the sunset light on the Morongos from the rocky point that overlooks our village will allow that it is a revelation of Nature in her mood of tenderest loveliness. Nowhere as on the desert will you experience what I may best call the spirituality of color, beauty in sunset hues so extreme that it affects one with a sense of pathos, 36 Our ARABY even of solemnity, like the innocent blue of child- hood’s eyes. Heavenly is a well-worn term, but here it comes to one’s lips instinctively: such per- fection in color seems not of earthly kind. The sky of the desert is well worth studying at other times than the sunset hour—for instance, at the moment when the sun comes striding up in inexpressible magnificence of power. Over this Garden of the Sun he rises morning after morning in such splendor as you will never see but in the desert, for here no mists or earthly exhalations dim the flashing glory of his first horizontal beams. It is then that one grasps the true meaning of that everyday word, the sun, and realizes him at last for what he is—a Flame, inconceivably vast, in- effably pure, unutterably terrible. For those who delight in cloud-form and sky- scenery, no area of sky that I know approaches in interest that which stretches from the southern extension of San Jacinto Mountain eastward to Santa Rosa Peak. In the rainy season this tract of air forms the very frontier of the opposing meteoro- logical forces, where day after day one may watch the battle between Rain and Drought fought in fashion more spectacular than one sees it elsewhere. Some particular interplay of air-currents, combined with and perhaps arising from the configuration of the land below, give rise to a remarkable diversity of cloud conditions. Above Santa Rosa there will hang for days a vast banner of vapor like the plume that curls from the lip of a volcano, while in the AMUSEMENTS a upper air beyond and above it, cirrus, stratus, and cumulus merge and evolve in ceaseless manoeuvres. I know of no other such “cloud-compelling peak” as this, on which another admirer and I have ven- tured to confer the title or degree of Santa Rosa de las Nubes (Santa Rosa of the Clouds.) Other aerial phenomena occur in these desert skies, some of them so unusual that one may suspect one’s eyes of playing tricks: as, for instance, I did, one evening when riding from Andreas Canon soon after sunset. The western sky was hidden from me by the high wall of mountain on my left; but sud- denly I saw on my right—that is to say, in the East —the well-known effect of radiating beams of light, frequently seen when the sun is at or near the horizon. I reined up and stared: yes, there it was, plain, even vivid. What was up? Had West become East, and East, West? Or couldn’t I tell one from the other? These were alarming thoughts, but soon I realized that the desert was up to one of its tricks: what I saw was the sunset reflected by the eastern sky. And then there is the night. It may seem odd to speak of sleep under the head of Amusements, but such sleep as one gets on the desert fairly ranks as enjoyment, so it is much the same. Few people know what night at its best can be. The desert is the place to learn it. Calmness, quietude, restful- ness, as a rule very relative terms, here approach the absolute. We speak of balmy sleep, and some- times think we get it in a bed under a ceiling; but 90 38 Our ARABY that is a mistake. Speaking for myself, the finest sleep I ever enjoyed was when for a month or so I spread my blankets on the bank of the Tahquitz ditch. With two or three inches-of dry brush for mattress, the air cool, still, and sweet with fifty herby essences, the moon and stars stealing by on tiptoe so as not to wake me, and Tahquitz telling strange old bits of earth-lore under its breath within a foot or so of my ear—that was sleep as sleep was meant to be. And then to wake up to a desert sun- rise! You positively should try it. “THE MOONLIGHT SONATA” from a painting by Mr. Cari Eytel, Palm Springs V. TRIPS TO THE CANONS AND OTHER NOTABLE POINTS T IS NOT possible in this small book to describe in detail the many points of special beauty or interest which lie within the range of Palm Springs. Here, however, are given brief notes regarding the spots most worth visiting, such as will serve to outline their particular features and to explain how they may be reached. In the latter connection, attention is directed to the map which will be found inside the back cover. For convenience I take them in alphabetical order. Andreas Cafion is four or five miles south of Palm Springs, on the way and a little to the west of the road to Palm Cafton. A fair automobile road goes right to the cafon-mouth. There are fine cliffs of the palisade sort, some caves with Indian relics, and many palms, one group of which is remarkable. There is a stream of pure mountain water, and some lovely cafion scenery. A divergence may be made on the return trip by taking a trail on the north side of the cafion, which leads up to the Gordon trail and gives a splendid view of the palisade cliffs and the desert: then descending the Gordon trail, which connects with the regular Palm Cafion road. (See Gordon Trail trip.) AO Our ARABY Cathedral Cafion is about seven miles southeast of Palm Springs, opening to the west of the main road down the valley. There is a fair automobile road into the cafion, but to reach the narrows a rough walk of two miles further is required, which by most people would not be thought worth while. There are a few palms and sometimes a little water. Chino Cafion is the wide-mouthed canon which opens to the west of the main road a mile or two north of Palm Springs. No practicable road runs into the canon, but a trail (formerly a wagon- road) may be picked out, roughly following the pipe-line. In the neck of the canon there is a ciénaga (marshy meadow) and a fine grove of cottonwoods: also a group of palms beneath which is a warm spring which makes a luxurious natural bathing-place: adjacent is a stream of cold moun- tain water. Near the point where the canon narrows to a gorge there is a cave that is worth visiting; and continuing one comes to a cliff of about 5000 feet sheer. Fine views of the desert are obtainable. If the return trip be made by moonlight a weird effect may be observed, produced by the reflected light from the mountains on either side. Time needed, two or three hours each way, as the trail is rough. The “Coral Reef.” This is of course no coral reef nor is it anything like one. It is simply a part of the mountain wall on the southwest side of the Coachella Valley, some twenty-five miles from Palm Trips TO THE CANONS Al Springs and about six miles southwest of the town of Coachella (the same from Indio.) The old Indian road to Toro and Martinez passes near the “reef.” The land is here below sea-level, and the water-line of the ancient sea is plainly marked on the foot of the mountain. The “coral” is a deposit of calcium carbonate left by the water. The like- ness to coral is not really close. There are ranches in the neighborhood. Deep Cafion is a main canon of Santa Rosa Mountain, reached by following the main road down the valley for thirteen miles from Palm Springs, when a road will be found which runs some distance into the cafion, though not so far as the narrows, which are five miles up. Botanists will find this a good piece of country: there are some splendid palo verdes, cacti are in fine display, and ocotillos and agaves are numerous. Beyond the narrows the cafion is rocky and romantic. The walls are strikingly high and steep, and a few palms are scattered along the stream. The Devil’s Garden. This is a tract of open desert mesa about eight miles north and slightly west of Palm Springs and not far from Whitewater, extending in fact nearly to the edge of Whitewater Canon. It is a natural cactus garden, where many species of cacti are associated in what amounts to a thicket of these odd vegetable forms. A trip to it makes a pleasant cross-country horseback excur- sion; or it may be reached by automobile via the 42 Our ARABY Whitewater Ranch and the Morongo Pass road, say fifteen miles. (There are two bad sandy stretches of the road beyond Whitewater.) Time needed, about three hours horseback or one hour automo- bile each way. The Garnet Hills are a ridge of gravelly ground just to the east of Palm Springs Station, which is about six miles due north of the village. The old sandy road to the east of the stage-road (a continua- tion of Indian Avenue) should be taken. There is nothing of special note here, but the place offers a convenient objective for a short horseback trip, as well as fine views of San Jacinto and San Bernar- dino Mountains and the open desert. Garnets are not hard to find, but none of good quality need be expected. Time needed, about two hours each way. The Gordon Trail, or P. and P. (Palm and Pine) Trail, is a direct route to the mountain resort of Idyllwild on San Jacinto Mountain. It was built at the expense and through the public spirit of Mr. M. S. Gordon of Palm Springs. It leaves the Palm Canon road at a point just beyond the Government Experiment Station, and climbs by steep but not excessive grades, reaching about 8000 feet at one spot. Water will first be found at “Avispas,” 2000 feet (two hours), then at Tahquitz Creek, 6000 feet, which should be the noon stopping-place. There- after the trail is through virgin forest (two hours to the highest point, whence it drops abruptly to Idyllwild.) Thus the through trip may be made on Tries TO THE CANONS 43 horseback in one day. Magnificent panoramic views of the desert and the Salton Sea are obtained, and in late spring a great display of blossoming mountain plants—wild lilac, yucca, manzanita, etc. Time needed, twelve hours, allowing one hour’s rest. Note—It is unwise to make this trip alone, and a safe, trail-broke horse, well shod, is necessary. A pleasant short round-trip may be arranged by taking the Gordon Trail as far as a point above Andreas Cafion giving a fine view of the palisade cliffs and the desert, returning thence by a trail which branches off to the left (south) and descends to the canon, whence there is a road to Palm Springs. (See Andreas Cajon trip.) Hidden Spring Cajion is a secluded spot in the foothills of the Orocopia Mountains. This entails a longish trip, the distance being about fifty miles. The route is down the valley by the main road as far as Mecca (thirty-eight miles), thence three miles east on the Blythe road, then two miles southeast following the Power-line, then north up the wash into the cafion (this is a hard pull for automobiles.) Splendid near outlooks over the Salton Sea are obtained, and the canon is remark- able, resembling Painted Cafion in formation and coloring. It contains a score or so of palms, also a spring of fair water, to reach which one must crawl on hands and knees through a narrow pas- sage-way. Owing to slow travel, this trip can best 4A Our ARABY be handled as an over-night-camp trip, though a strenuous one-day will cover it. REFER to “Salton Sea” and “Painted Canon” trips, in same general locality. Magnesia Spring Cafion opens to the southwest upon the main valley road near Frye’s Well, about twelve miles from Palm Springs, (being the next cafion to the northwest of Deep Canon.) It is quite easy of access, the approach being sandy instead of bouldery, but automobiles may find difficulty after leaving the main road (at a point opposite Frye’s old house.) At the narrows, about two miles from the mouth, there are fine cliffs; also a little water, not of the best quality, yet drinkable; and a rock-bound pool large enough for a minia- ture swim. In the upper cafion there are a number of palms. This cafon makes a pleasant objective for a picnic, or for a one or two days’ camping- trip. Mission Creek Cafion is a cafion of San Ber- nardino Mountain opening northwesterly to the north of Painted Hill, which is about three miles north of Whitewater Station. The distance from Palm Springs is about fifteen miles. The route for automobiles (twenty miles) is by way of White- water Ranch and the Morongo Pass road, keeping to the west at the forks: on horseback one may take the old sandy road to Palm Springs Station, con- tinuing north by a road which skirts the Devil’s Garden (q. v.) The cafion has some remarkable Trips TO THE CANONS 45 rock colorings and formations, with evidences of volcanic action. There are two or three ranches belonging to Indians and whites: also good and abundant water. Time needed, one day by automo- bile: one night out by horseback. The Morongo Trip. I use this term to desig- nate an excursion, of whatever length one likes, into the mountains that face one looking across the desert to the north and east from Palm Springs (actually a spur of San Bernardino Mountain, but locally known as the Morongos.) The route for automobiles is by way of Whitewater Ranch, branching off thence to the road running northeast to the Morongo Pass. This leads by way of Warren’s Ranch (“Chuckwarren’s”), Warren’s Wells, and Coyote Holes, to the oasis of Twenty-nine Palms, on the southern edge of the Mojave Desert. A worth- while loop is made by turning south at the sign- board (six miles beyond Warren’s Wells) marked “Keyes Ranch, Quail Springs,” etc.: another sign- board at the Keyes Ranch will direct you to Twenty- nine Palms via Gold Park. A great variety of desert scenery is thus met, including exceedingly striking rock formations and those botanical curi- osities, the Joshua trees, as well as fine views of the great peaks, San Jacinto, San Gorgonio, and Santa Rosa. The trip may be prolonged from Twenty- nine Palms into a circuit by way of Dale, Cotton- wood Springs, Shafer’s Well, and Mecca, near the north shore of the Salton Sea, but inquiries should be made as to the state of the roads before venturing 46 Our ARABY on this extension. Time needed, one day the round trip by automobile to the Keyes Ranch or Twenty- nine Palms, (the latter being 136 miles, round trip.) Murray Cafion is a picturesque canon opening westward just to the south of Andreas Canon (q. v.) It has many fine palms and some interesting rock formations, and provides a convenient and agree- able short trip or picnic place. There is a fair automobile road leading into the cafion. A small stream of fair water runs in winter and spring. Painted Cafion or Red Cajfion is a remark- able ravine in what are locally called the Mud Hills, on the northeast side of the Coachella Valley. It opens about five miles north from Mecca, and thus is about forty-three miles from Palm Springs. The features of the canon are the brilliant coloring of the walls in places, and the height and verticality of the cliffs. The approach to the canon, and its floor, are sandy and likely to be troublesome for automo- biles. A small flow of water may be found two or three miles up, but this is not dependable. Time needed, one day by automobile. REFER to “Salton Sea” and “Hidden Spring Cafion” trips, in same general locality. Palm Cafion. This may well be termed the most notable point of Our Araby’s scenery, and it has been not a little “written up” and pictured in magazine and newspaper articles. It opens about seven miles south of Palm Springs, at the very end TRIPS TO THE CANONS 47 of the arm of desert into which Andreas and Murray Cantons also debouch. An automobile road runs to the mouth of the cafion, which is a rocky, wind- ing ravine, strikingly picturesque, crowded with palms to the number of, probably, thousands. A good stream of water flows in the cafion, and greatly enhances its charm. So unique and beauti- ful is the place that plans are afoot for setting apart this canon and some surrounding territory as a National Park or Monument. The Salton Sea, of which much has been writ- ten, is really a great lake formed by the overflow of the Colorado River. As a geographical accident, so to speak, of some note it is worth a visit, as well as for its scenic features and for its interest as a purely desert lake and an example of geological phenomena. Its nearest point to Palm Springs is the northern shore, which is a mile or two from the town of Mecca, thirty-eight miles down the valley. Good camping-places by the “sea,” with fair water, are at Fig-tree John Springs and Fish Springs, directions for which can be learned at Mecca. Time needed, one day by automobile. REFER to “Hidden Spring Canon” and “Painted Cafion” trips, in same general locality. The Sand-Dunes_ A trip to the big dunes will be worth the visitor’s while, either the high dunes six or eight miles directly northeast of Palm Springs or the wide expanse of smaller dunes which lie near and to the left of the road as one goes down 48 Our ARABY the valley, say sixteen miles out. The view is mem- orable among these great sand-masses, which realize one’s idea of Arabia and the Sahara. A picnic here will be a novelty. Needless to say, no water can be expected among the dunes. Time needed, one day horseback. Seven Palms is a small natural oasis on the open desert, about seven miles north and a little east of Palm Springs. It makes a pleasant horse- back trip (or walk in cool weather), and may be reached by taking the old sandy road to Palm Springs Station and thence by a trail skirting the north edge of the Garnet Hills; or it can easily be found by striking across country toward the north- erly point of the big dunes, looking out for the palms which will be in sight before the railroad is passed. The attractions are the palms, which are charmingly grouped, and the fine views of the mountain peaks to the southwest and northwest. There is water in plenty, but of poor quality. Time needed, two hours horseback. Snow Creek Caiion opens to the southwest opposite Whitewater Station, and is easily reached by following the stage-road to that point, whence a plain road leads into the cafion. A good stream of water flows all the year, and fair trout-fishing may be had in it in the season. In a side cafion on the south of the main cafion near its mouth there is a group of palms which is interesting as marking the westerly limit of the tree’s growth. A branch road Trips TO THE CANONS 49 on the south side of the cafion leads to Snow Creek Falls, which are worth visiting when much water is coming down. Time needed, one to two hours by automobile. Tahquitz Cafion, (named for the evil spirit of the Cahuillas) is marked by a striking break in the mountain wall just to the south of Palm Springs. It is the favorite resort in the neighborhood of the village, the popular route being the foot-path along the bank of the Tahquitz ditch, which follows the base of the mountain. The main feature of interest for most people is the waterfall, which after heavy rains is quite impressive; but the rock scenery, the cacti, and the outlook from the canon portals are all well worth notice. There are two trails worth exploring, an upper and a lower. Automobiles can take a road (fair) just south of the village going to the mouth of the cafon. Only the lower part, as far as the fall, is accessible without hard and even dangerous climbing. Thousand Palm Cafion lies to the east and somewhat south of Palm Springs, being on the opposite side of the valley and opening into the foothills of the San Bernardino spur. It is hardly accessible by automobile, but provides a fine day’s horseback trip by striking across country through the dunes, crossing the railroad at Edom and con- tinuing east by a middling road. The cafon con- tains remarkable groves of palms. Water of fair quality has been developed and is found near the 50 Our ARABY mouth. As the distance from Palm Springs is about fifteen miles, and the country not easy, the trip can best be taken as a one-night-out expedition, but it is not too much for a return the same day if an early start be made. Two-Bunch Palms is a double group of palms picturesquely placed on a bench at the foot of the hills three or four miles north of Seven Palms. It can be reached by continuing north across country from that place (q. v.), being easily found by look- ing out for the palms, which soon come in sight. The spot commands fine views of the open desert and the mountains. There is a spring of good water. This makes an enjoyable all-day’s horseback picnic trip, Seven Palms being taken on the way. Time needed, a good three hours each way. The Vandeventer Trail starts from near the foot of Palm Canion (a little to the east) and climbs to the high plateau known as Pifon Flat. It is a long trail of about twenty miles following roughly the dividing line between the outlying spurs of San Jacinto and Santa Rosa Mountains. About halfway of the trail is a spot called Little Paradise, which is practically the only place where camp can be made in this rough piece of country, also the only spot where one may rely on getting water (in a small ciénaga, or marsh, not easily found.) The trip to this point and return may be made on horse- back in one long day. AT TWO-BUNCH PALMS: MT. SAN GORGONIO IN THE DISTANCE TRIPS TO THE CANONS 51 Whitewater Canon opens to the north from Whitewater Station, which is nine miles by the stage-road from Palm Springs. It contains nothing of special interest, but there are a few palms, also good water, and fair trout-fishing may be found in the season if one goes far enough in the canon, up which there is a road for a considerable distance. By making the trip on horseback, across country, other places may be taken en route, viz: Seven Palms and the Devil’s Garden, which makes it well worth while. Time needed, one long day horseback. N. B. As regards excursions involving crossing the open desert (for instance, the trips to Seven Palms, Thousand Palm Canon, the Sand-dunes, the Devil’s Garden, etc.) it is advisable to choose one’s day with special reference to wind conditions. On days of strong wind it may easily prove that the pleasure is outweighed by the discomfort. VI. FLORA AND FAUNA LARGE element in the attraction of Our UN heats lies in the novelty of its animal and vegetable life. The former is a matter princi- pally for naturalists, who find interest in noting the variations from type as regards habits, color, size, etc., wrought by special conditions among the mam- mals, birds, and reptiles of the desert. Yet one need not be a scientist in order to appreciate the humors of, for instance, the jolly little hairy-tailed desert mice who have chummed up with me by many a camp-fire, where they equally amused and amazed me by taking headers into the hot ashes at every opportunity, as though the thought of being baked alive was irresistible. This, too, is the place to enjoy the antics of that fine joker and gymnast, the road- runner, of whom strange tales are told, yet none too strange to seem credible to his admirers. There would be little value to anyone in printing here a detailed list of the birds and animals found in our territory. Such a list would run into hun- dreds of items (of rats, mice, gophers, or lizards, for instance, many different kinds would need to be noted, as well as of sundry birds:) and without the aid of colored illustrations it would be all but worthless, even if lengthy descriptions and measure- ments were given. A brief enumeration of the birds, mammals, and reptiles is given below, regarding FLORA AND FAUNA 53 which it should be borne in mind that not only the immediate neighborhood of Palm Springs but also the cafions and higher ground within a radius of some miles is included in the territory covered. This information is drawn from two publications of the University of California, viz: “An Account of the Birds and Mammals of the San Jacinto Area of Southern California,” by J. Grinnell and H. S. Swarth, and “The Reptiles of the San Jacinto Area of Southern California,” by Sarah Rogers Atsatt: both published by the University of California Press, Berkeley, California. To these the reader who desires complete data is referred. BIRDS Bluebird, Western Ouzel (Dipper) Bush-tit Owl, two or three species Buzzard (Turkey vulture) Pewee, Western Wood Chat, Long-tailed Phainopepla Coot (Mud-hen) Phoebe, Say and Black Dove, Mourning Plover, Killdeer Duck, two or three species _Poor-will, Dusky Eagle, Golden Quail, three species Falcon, Prairie Raven, Western Flycatcher, two or three Roadrunner species Robin, Western Gnatcatcher, two species Shrike (Butcher-bird) Goldfinch, two or three Snipe, Wilson species Sparrow, many species Grosbeak, Black-headed Swallow, two or three species and Blue Swift, White-throated Hawk, several species Thrasher, Leconte Heron, Night Towhee, two or three species Hummingbird, several species Verdin Jay, Pifion and California Vireo, two or three species Lark, Horned Warbler, several species (CONTINUED) 54 Our ARABY Lark, Meadow Woodpecker, Cactus and Red- Linnet (House finch) shafted (Flicker) Mockingbird Wren, two or three species Nighthawk, Texas Yellowthroat, Western Oriole, two or three species Note:The California Condor, one of the greatest of flying birds, has within only the last few years vanished from this region. MAMMALS Bat, two or three species Kangaroo-rat, two or three Chipmunk, Antelope species Cottontail rabbit Mouse, various species Cougar (Panther, Puma, Pocket-mouse, two or three Mountain-lion) species Coyote Sheep (Bighorn) Deer, Mule Skunk, two species Fox, Kit and Gray Wildcat (Lynx) Gopher, two species Wood-rat, White-footed and Ground-squirrel, two species Brown-footed Jackrabbit ROE ea es Lizards, various, including the Chuckwalla and Horned-toad. Snakes: Garter, Gopher, Rattlesnake, Red-racer, Sidewinder. Tortoise. A much larger number of people are interested in the desert plants, which offer the advantage of being always on view, than in the animal life, which must be studied under difficulties. Many of the desert growths are strange enough to challenge attention at first sight: others steal into one’s notice or affection by virtue of some quaintness or beauty of blossom, or by some trait of the useful or un- expected. Detailed descriptions of such are out of the question here, nor would descriptions, without FLORA AND FAUNA 55 expensive colored illustrations, be much to the point. The best that is possible in this small book is to transcribe from my larger volume, “California Desert Trails,” a fairly complete list of the desert plants, the brief notes on which will serve to iden- tify a good many of them. The “Western Wild Flower Guide” of Mr. Charles F. Saunders (an invaluable manual for anyone interested in Cali- fornia’s wild flowers) and the “Field Book of West- ern Wild Flowers” of Miss Margaret Armstrong in collaboration with J. Thornber, both of which are illustrated, include a fair number of the noticeable desert flowers, and will be found useful for reference. VII. NOTICEABLE PLANTS OF THE DESERT Botanists must kindly overlook the lack of exactitude in these descriptions, which are necessarily brief and in which technical terms have purposely been wholly avoided. It should be borne in mind that a number of plants may be met on the desert, especially about settlements or culti- vated areas, that are not native there. A few of these, such as are most likely to come under observation, are included below. If there seem to be omissions in the following list, the explanation may be that the plants in question do not properly come under desert classification. Abronia aurita. Sand Verbena (not really a verbena, but somewhat like that plant in its flowering.) A low, trailing, sticky, soft-stemmed plant, bearing close clus- ters of fragrant, rosy-purple flowers. Blooms in mid- spring. Acacia greggii. Cat-claw, Una de gato. A bush up to 10 feet high, crowded with small sharp thorns, common in cafions and on hillsides: often mistaken for a small mesquit, the leaves being like those of that tree but smaller. Flower a yellowish “spike” (resembling a pussy-willow catkin): fruit a pod, often curiously twisted. Blooms in early summer. Adenostoma sparsifolium. Red-shank, Bastard cedar, Cha- miso, Yerba del pasmo. A tall, fragrant bush with red, shreddy bark and fine, stringy foliage. Found in the mountains bordering the desert, not widely dis- tributed. Flowers small, white, profuse. Blooms in late spring. Agave deserti. Wild Century-plant, Maguey, Mescal. Leaves blue-gray, very large, succulent, with strong prickles on edges and a thorn at apex, starting from the ground. Flower-stalk 8 or 10 feet high, bearing many sets of clustered, yellow, bell-shaped flowers. NOTICEABLE PLANTS oy Common in parts of the desert mountains. Blooms in mid-spring. Amsinckia spectabilis. Fiddle-head, Zacate gordo. A very common, small, hairy, slender-stemmed plant, with narrow leaves and small orange flowers on stalks that curl at the tip. Blooms in early and mid-spring. Anemopsis californica. Yerba mansa. A low, rank-growing plant found only in damp places. Leaves large and coarse: flowers large, white, with protruding conical centre. Blooms in mid-spring. Aphyllon cooperi. Cancer-root. A low, succulent plant, somewhat like a stalk of asparagus, bearing a number of small, purplish flowers. The plant is a parasite, growing on the roots of other plants. Not common. Blooms in late summer. Argemone hispida. Thistle poppy, Cardo, Chicalote. A prickly, gray or bluish leafed, thistly-looking plant, 1 or 2 feet high, with large, fragile flowers, white with yellow centre. Blooms in mid- and late summer. Aster orcuttii. A hardy-looking plant of the driest desert canons, 1 to 2 feet high; rather rare. Leaves stiff and paper-like, with prickly-toothed edges: flowers large and handsome, of lavender rays with yellow centre. Blooms in early summer. Astragalus coccineus. A low plant with almost white stem and leaves and handsome cardinal-red flowers. Found in the desert mountains, but rare. Blooms in mid- spring. Atriplex canescens. Salt-bush, Shad-scale. A good-sized roundish bush with small, grayish leaves, inconspicuous flowers, and tassels of striking, bright green seed- vessels. Blooms in early summer. Atriplex hymenelytra. Desert holly. “recited Hei ewer 1. eed , ee te ta hea * bi eS hiesl)s ue Oo 2 ‘4 ° ° > aA de lee n