194103-DesertMagazin.. - Desert Magazine of the Southwest

them—and I found many. They were clinging to the rocks in
the talus slopes and on the hillsides. Tiny fellows they were,
not as big as a pink bean, but very much alive.
My snail-hunting acquaintance explained that when periods
of dry weather come they withdraw into their shells, seal up
the entrance with a tough papery covering, and remain dormant
for months or even years—until moist conditions stimulate them
to activity again.
My companion soon detoured up the side of a mountain, and
I continued along the trail. .[ was more interested in palms than
in snails that day.
I followed the trail around two bends in the canyon and then
an oasis of stately Washingtonias suddenly loomed up ahead
of me. It is always a thrill to come upon these trees in the arid
desert. They tower high above all the surrounding plant life—
dignified and green and refreshing. In a land where water is
a rare luxury, they will live only where the soil at their roots
is saturated with moisture.
That first palm group in Borrego canyon is a popular retreat
for picnic parties. Visitors pack their sandwiches along the
mile and a half trail just for the privilege of eating lunch among
the boulders and palm fronds beside the crystal-clear pool that
lies at the foot of a miniature waterfall.
The palms and the boulders form a sheltered cove here. Indians
camped in this spot in prehistoric days. The morteros
This picture of the jails was taken many years ago by Clinton
G. Abbott. Today this waterfall and pool are surrounded
by a jungle of palm trees. It is a favorite retreat for
picnickers.
where they ground their mesquite beans are in the rocks not
far away.
This oasis with its waterfall and pool is just a sort of prelude
to the scenic vista that extends for miles along the stream back
into the San Ysidros.
The trail to the waterfall is easy to follow, but beyond that
it fades out and the hiker may follow the route of his choosing,
scrambling over boulders, detouring precipitous rock jams,
threading his way through dense shrubbery that grows in many
places in the bottom of the gorge.
My most recent trip to Borrego canyon was New Years
day, 1941. I went there to count the palm trees.
And if you ask me why I wanted to count palms in a canyon
where they grow for miles along a crooked boulder-strewn
watercourse, I can offer no plausible reason.
It merely is one of those hobbies that practical minded folks
never quite understand. Many years ago I started a scrapbook
in which are pictures and all the data I have been able to obtain
regarding each of the palm oases on the Colorado desert.
It was a bigger task than I anticipated—and the book is still
far from complete. When my self-assigned job is finished, perhaps
the book will mean nothing to anyone except Randall
Henderson. But for me it will recall the memories of hundreds
of interesting trips into the odd corners of the desert—of many
days of fruitless search for a waterhole casually mentioned in
conversation by a prospector friend, of weary pilgrimages
through deep sand, and long treks in the heat of summer with
a canteen nearly empty.
It was tough going at times, but who ever regrets such experiences.
Especially, when on the other side of the balance
sheet I can relive in memory the thrill of discovery, the coming
unexpectedly on a little palm oasis that I never knew existed,
the exhilaration of a drink of cool spring water after miles of
thirst, the hours spent in idling among the boulders of an old
Indian campsite trying to visualize the picture that was there
a hundred or 500 years ago.
Anyway, I went there New Years day to count the palms.
That information properly belongs to my scrapbook. It is gratifying
to check back after a few years and find that the palms
are increasing, as they are in all the oases where the water supply
is plentiful.
I spent New Years eve with Ruth and Noel Crickmer, by the
fireplace in the peaceful atmosphere of their friendly Rancho
Borrego lodge. The distant world was engaged in the hilarious
One of the picnic ramadas constructed by the park service
in the campground at the entrance to Borrego canyon. San
Ysidro range in the background. Photograph by Chas. F.
Webber.
20 The DESERT MAGAZINE