194103-DesertMagazin.. - Desert Magazine of the Southwest

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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
Qaat Jfe*dei By HARRY DACQUET Gardena, California This photograph of Ed Gonzales, goat herder on the desert near Mojave, California, was awarded first prize in Desert Magazine's monthly photographic contest. It was taken with a 3 1 /4x4 1 /4 Graf lex, Ortho-X-film, Zeiss lens, 1/50 at f8, no filter. 1 flod/uia ^teed,
Page 1 and 2: M A *G A Z N E MARCH 1941 25 CENTS
Page 3 and 4: DESERT FEB. 27-MAR. 1 District bask
Page 5 and 6: een located, also the spring he fou
Page 7 and 8: Bess and Bob Cline and their burros
Page 9 and 10: The Old West produced five pictures
Page 11 and 12: Hurley oj Tucumcari. Conchas dam an
Page 13 and 14: PROJECT / SANTA ROSA^^ \AlAMOeORDO
Page 15 and 16: Landscape vieiv of the quartz cryst
Page 17 and 18: Ed Matteson {right) and Max Felker
Page 19 and 20: Stately palms and a tumbling mounta
Page 21: pastime of bidding farewell to the
Page 25 and 26: 4—Mother Tortoise comes around to
Page 27 and 28: Completely surprised and greatly ou
Page 29 and 30: DESERT QUIZ This monthly puzzle pag
Page 31 and 32: Gold production in the United State
Page 33 and 34: Los Angeles, California Dear Sirs:
Page 35 and 36: mission has tried to be fair to bot
Page 37 and 38: Mud Jlo4AA&i in Nevada! Who can ide
Page 39 and 40: Calexico . . . Six days of festivit
Page 41 and 42: Each month the Desert Magazine offe
Page 43 and 44: AMONG THE ROCK HOnTERS Golden Empir
Page 45 and 46: way from frost-like covered surface
Page 47 and 48: SOME OF THE WEST'S GUNMEN WERE OVER

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