Winter 2015 - Escape to the Desert: Julian & Anza Borrego Desert State Park

    Last year we missed our annual escape from the Central Valley fog and drear to the desert, as I was still recovering from cervical spine surgery and complications six months prior. This year the decision to visit Doug's wonderful Aunts Ruth and Eileen in El Centro provided the perfect reason to visit two of our favorite desert areas: Anza-Borrego Desert State Park on our way south and returning north Joshua Tree National Park.

Anza-Borrego Desert State Park.

    Despite perfect weather at home—sunny and 70 degrees—we eagerly prepared for our trip. It's not just the winter warmth that draws us to the desert, but the beauty of the stark landscape, a million stars in the black night sky, and if we’re lucky cacti in bloom, wildflowers, and desert wildlife.

Winter Destinations from home in Visalia: Anza Borrego Desert State Park, El Centro, Joshua Tree National Park.

    We managed to leave home on time Thursday, 7:00 AM, even though Doug had to run across town to retrieve our headlamps from the VW Vanagon. It was with our wonderful mechanic Chuck for repairs. 

    A couple of hours later, the MRV climbed admirably over the Grapevine into the LA basin. We made our way through LA traffic, sometimes on narrow lanes that made me even more glad that Doug was the pilot. We arrived in Temucula by noon and marveled at how another once tiny town had become a tangled metropolis. We bought gas at Costco (higher prices than Bakersfield and much higher than Visalia) then snacked on cheese, crackers, apples, and carrots in the parking lot.
    Like much of California, this area is dotted with Indian reservations and the casinos that are their lifeblood: the Pechanga, Pauma, La Jolla, and Mesa Grande. We passed Lake Henshaw, another reservoir that is extremely constricted due to the drought that has now lasted several years. The Santa Ysabel reservation followed, along with numerous huge wholesale nurseries. I tried to imagine planting and maintaining the thousands upon thousands of potted plants that marched in straight rows across the land.
    After a last climb, we entered the quaint town of Julian. Despite its 4,000-foot elevation, the town was enjoying spring-like weather. Doug nudged the MRV as close-in as he could for our brief stop to buy the requisite apple pie. Mom's is reputed to be the best apple pie in a town where every restaurant—not to mention every restaurant within 10 miles—also serves the traditional dessert in a variety of expressions. 

Julian has lots of pie shops other than Mom's, the most famous.

    On our 2011 trip to Julian, the line at Mom's was down the sidewalk, so we'd opted for Apple Alley, where the service was quick and the pie more than satisfying. Today Mom's personnel seemed disinterested, so we again crossed the street to Apple Alley and were greeted before the door had closed behind us. We bought a traditional apple pie, deposited it in the MRV, and checked out the local used book store.

We bought pies from Apple Alley on both our visits to Julian—yum!

    Leaving the bookstore unusually empty-handed, we noted the passing trucks pulling around the MRV's rear-end, which prompted more thoughts of replacing it with a smaller poptop van.
    Unfortunately we were too early for the daffodils that line the streets and dance over Julian’s surrounding fields each spring. The original planting was done in 1990 by a resident master gardener in memory of her father, also a community gardener. Volunteers plant more bulbs around the area each fall.
    It was time to head down the hill to Anza Borrego. We briefly wondered if we should camp at the state park near Julian, where we'd camped on our previous trip in ice, snow, and freezing rain. But remembering that the desert night temperatures are still cool, we continued on down the hill. A half hour later, we turned into Anza-Borrego Desert State Park.

Anza-Borrego Desert State Park.

    We didn't wish hook-ups and went on to the tent/RV/backpacker area with its larger campsites, each with a fire pit, barbecue, and picnic table shaded by a ramada—a wood structure with a lattice roof. To top it off, we had an unobstructed view of the valley below.

Ramada at campsite.

    We'd spotted a poptop van in a nearby site, so we parked and walked over to introduce ourselves. Doug noted that Ann was quilting. While he and Robert talked vans, Ann and I talked quilting on the road. 

    Though I'd bought a portable sewing machine for travel a couple of years ago, I'd ruled out taking it on our travels as quilting also necessitates a table, an iron, and storage. Ann's her table is a wood board set on two folding camp tables. She has the tiniest of irons, which actually looks just right for ironing small quilt seams. She has a solar panel to power batteries. Her storage is a large under-the-bed plastic container. And voilà: quilting outside in the beauty of the desert. 

We had the "MRV" (Marilyn's RV), rather a behemoth, in Anza-Borrego.

    Ann and I discovered other commonalities. We both needed a smooth ride due to back surgery. Their Chevy passenger van was perfect for their two-month trip around the country. I found myself wishing we lived near each other.

Traverse Ford poptop we bought 2 months after Anza-Borrego, similar to Robert & Ann's & much better suited to our needs.

    Doug and I finally pulled ourselves away, paid for our campground—there is a $2 discount as we are both (well) over 62—and decided to go out for dinner. Driving down the hill to Borrego Springs, we again remarked how beautiful the flat-roofed adobe structures are and how out-of-place the buildings with siding and sloped roofs look. The choices for dinner consisted of four Mexican restaurants and a bar. We chose Carmelita's Mexican Grill and Cantina. The door opened to a prominent bar, and we nearly left, then were relieved to see the restaurant beyond, its tables draped in brightly striped table cloths. An hour later, we were stuffed with delicious chips and salsa, tostadas, enchiladas, beans, rice, and beer and declared Carmelita's a success.
    Back at the campground, we walked under Orion, Cassiopeia, the Pleiades, the Big Dipper, and a million other stars in the black sky. We set up the bed, and I was soon fast asleep, leaving Doug to say our final goodnights to the surrounding quiet desert and the rising, nearly full moon.

Moon over Anza-Borrego. Robert & Ann's white van on the left.

    I was up before sunrise Friday morning, writing Thursday’s blog in my traveling office: the front passenger seat swivels 180 degrees to face the removable round table. A reflection in the side mirror caught my eye—I'd been so focused I hadn't realized day was quietly dawning. Anza Borrego's hills stood outlined against the early morning sky, the oblong moon was descending in the west, and the sun was streaking the charcoal and gray sky in the east with crimson and rose. The desert was immensely calm. 

Dawn.

     After breakfast and showers, we decide to attempt  Borrego Palm Canyon Trail. Leaving from the back of the campground, the trail passes through sand washes, over small mesas and uneven terrain, ending at an oasis with California fan palms. This is the only palm that is native to California, though it’s scientific name, ironically, is Washingtonia filifera.
    I was glad Doug remembered to pack our hiking poles. They’re a necessity for me, as my balance is still off due to spinal cord damage during my surgery eighteen months ago. We set off, stopping at markers to consult the trail brochure.

 

Palm Canyon.

     The ocotillo cacti were covered in small bright green leaves, with dried blooms at the ends of their long branches, telling us it had rained within the past month. After rain the ocotillo’s leaves appear within 24 hours, are full grown in 5 days, turn fall colors, and drop in a month if there is no more rain. 

Ocotillo & Doug.

    The trail is easy to the first wash—a stream bed created by rain—though the smooth flagstone steps down into the wash made me a bit leary. Boulders and large palm tree trunks littering the wash tell of roaring flash floods, especially common in July and August.

Steps down to wash.

Doug crossing the wash.

    The plant I thought might be a sage is desert lavender, full of busily buzzing bees. 

Desert Lavender.

In another adaptation to the harsh desert climate, the lavender’s leaves are smaller, thicker, and hairier in dry weather to prevent moisture loss and larger and thinner when moisture is present to maximize photosynthesis.

    As the trail became narrow and rocky, I picked my way carefully, but all the little ups and downs and back and forths  fatigued me and my brain could not keep up. It thought as well that I was nauseous. Reluctantly I said I needed to go back. 

    Doug was just happy I hadn’t waited until too late, having already proclaimed he couldn’t carry me back. I concluded it also wasn't the type of terrain I could roll down. 

    While I rested and took more pictures of desert rocks and plants, Doug went on to the next rise, hoping to glimpse the oasis. It still wasn't in sight, so we contented ourselves with at least having visited it on our previous trip.

Desert Rock Pea.

Brown-eyed primrose.


Chuparosa.


Chuparosa close-up.

    Back in the campground, Doug settled outside in the shade of the ramada to read and I napped in the MRV. Later we walked along the campground roads. Since it was Friday, the campground wass filling up with escapees from San Diego. A young European couple arrived on a tandem bike, with their toddler in tow in a yellow trailer, and set up a camp complete with tent. We admired their fortitude.
    Doug moved into the MRV to continue reading. I read and wrote at the picnic table until dusk and chill sent me inside. 

Sunset.

    Night arrived with its starry show, and the calm of the desert day slid into the even more quiet desert night, broken occasionally by the howls of coyotes.