Day two of our moderately sized year dawns large with promise. We are driving over the pass from Temecula towards Palm Springs by the time the sun is up. As we climb the twisting switchbacks that lead to the summit, Tyler looks for a good pull-out to enjoy the view. We take the first one we find. I'm planning to stride right up the hillside towards what promises to be a stunning eastern view, but Tyler stops short at a concrete sign with a bit of unfamiliar language on it: páxam, we are greeted.
This open space is someone's home.
A procession of signs along the path introduces the plants and animals of the area, teaching their local names and traditional uses. The high desert in front of us, dotted with yucca, sage and juniper, looks dry and empty. Most of the plants are in a period of dormancy, their wind-twisted limbs lying flat and gray against the ground. It doesn't look like a person could walk out into this wilderness and wrestle a life out of it. But in fact, these cheery signs inform me, an entire people lived capably on this bounty for millennia, plucking use out of the roots, berries, leaves, fur, meat, feathers, rocks and bones around us. Scanning the horizon, I try to see it this way, like a garden of plenty, or at least enough to live on. What I see when I reach the grand viewpoint is a Topo Chico box someone left on the far side of the guardrail.
Tyler retrieves the Topo Chico box, but it still doesn't feel pristine, exactly. There is the road, there is the litter, there is my phone in my hand connecting me to everything else in a second. But it feels quiet and clear.
Another tourist presses a button on one of the signs and the air fills with singing in the heartbeat rhythm of so much sacred music. The sound plays for a surprising three or four minutes, not just the 30-second burst recording that might usually stand for an educational snippet. When the tourist walks off, I edge in and read the sign, and learn that I am listening to Bird Songs.
So here I am, on the second day of our bird year, already learning about other ornithologies! For more on this idea, please explore Drew Lanham's lovely book, The Home Place, in which he talks about the ornithology he grew up with as a Black child in the South. His grandmother's colorful names for backyard birds give them another character, one that differs from the commonly accepted names we use across the English-speaking world. His attention to this subject reminds us that we might learn from others, from how they observe and see the world around them, just as much as we might benefit from the scientific learning that relies on standardization and universal codes. It's a topic I meant to keep in mind this year, and here it is, landed in front of me like a hawk on a perch!
Here are some quotes I lingered over:
Consider that mindset, and how we all might live differently if we really shouldered the responsibility to be the stewards of the land we stand on.
Then, because there is no deflecting the glare of the present, let’s travel down to the desert basin, to the glittering landscaped ponds and golf courses of Palm Springs, and marvel at the flamboyant abundance of Vermillion Flycatchers. We had four of these gems in Demuth Park! Along with a Say’s Phoebe and a Black Phoebe, we had a trifecta of beautiful flycatchers all along the same fence.
High Desert, High Peak
Day three begins in Joshua Tree, where we’ve come to enjoy the desert, some family time with my father-in-law and sister-in-law, and to marvel at the strangest, tallest yuccas that exist. But the weather is cold, with menacing clouds.
When the rain starts, we take shelter in the car and consider our options. Tyler’s dad has the bright idea that rain in the valley might be snow at the peaks, and suggests the Aerial Tramway to Mount San Jacinto. Soon, we are back in Palm Springs at the base of the mountain, preparing for the twelve-minute ride up. Only twelve minutes, and we’re in the promised snow!
We had hoped to see White-Headed Woodpecker and Pygmy Nuthatch before leaving the area, and were not disappointed! We all felt a little giddy in the snow, and yes, there were snow angels and snowballs and cold fingers and dripping noses. Winter! Our favorite season!
After lunch with a view at the summit, we blithely descend with truly Californian ease back to the valley floor.
Joshua Tree
Finally, highlights from our day-long exploration of Joshua Tree National Park.
The desert is so full of crazy joys! The closer you look, the more and strange the flora and fauna. The garden comes to life as you explore it, and abundance emerges from the rocky landscape. Here’s a pencil cholla in mega-close-up:
We end the day at the Oasis of Mara in Twentynine Palms. There we learn that the Cahuilla who lived here once upon a time were sent to seek the first water they could find in the desert, and planted 29 palms in honor of the 29 baby boys that were born during the season after their arrival. The Cahuilla consider the plants and animals of the desert to be their ancestors, taken new forms after death in order to sustain the living. Here is a family photo of California Fan Palms:
As we prepare to undertake our year-long journey, we’re grateful for the support of our friends and family. What compels us to leave and wander? I can’t really say, but my hope is this trail log will be a kind of gift that we can share with those we love who are spread far and wide. Thank you for reading and accepting the gift!
I’m so happy that you are taking pictures of the interp. I love interp. I read them all. Now I can be there with you! Also guys. The photos. Amazeballs.
Whattttt... all the snow and cute little animals! I’m so jealous.