Thanksgiving Feast!

Palm Springs is a world away from the noisy, polluting V8’s and traditional American trucks and cars that I loved to see and hear. The roads are full of quiet, fuel efficient, clean and new petrol/hybrid/EV’s - this was the first and immediate sign that this is an affluent area of California. We rode our bikes along wide, well maintained roads where everyone behaved themselves.

Of course, we had booked ourselves in to one of the cheaper establishments in town but still with some of the luxuries you would expect of Palm Springs - a jacuzzi and a pool with tall palms providing some shade from the boundary line, were standard fare and this place did not disappoint. The room was normal, clean and comfortable, a significant advancement on the previous accommodation - the tent.

That evening, we had to find food. The receptionist suggested the place across the road that served traditional American fare and, having Googled it, we decided to take a look even though the reviews suggested it was a little pricey. We didn’t even venture in through the doors as we dodged Mercedes, Audi’s and BMW’s dropping off their well dressed occupants at the door. Whilst we’re not normally shy about being who we are, we decided that Crocs wouldn’t cut it this time. Further along the road and the other restaurants gave similar vibes and a mile later, we were in the vicinity of the nearest supermarket. It looked like a Morrisons on the outside but a Waitrose on the inside. This will do, we’ll find something to eat for now and see what we could find for Thanksgiving.

The place was reasonably busy, given the time of evening, with many shoppers collecting last bits for the big day. One such shopper was on the phone to her daughter, discussing the merits of ordinary carrots over organic ones as she loitered around the fruit and vegetable aisle, just as we were, remarking on the cost of bananas and “what is that?”, whilst pointing at some fruit or vegetable we had never seen before. As we continued our way around the shop, I saw the lady a few times more and we just smiled, as you do to be polite to strangers.

As we reached the end of our shop, the lady came up to us and said “You two look like you have a story” and she remarked on the T-shirts we wore with the same logo. We explained who we were and what we were doing, answering questions from Sheri and other shoppers who happened to join in on the conversation. Sheri was thrilled with our story and introduced herself as having worked and socialised within the Hollywood scene for many, many years and we should make a film of our journey and she had just the right contacts for this. Sheri wanted to invite us to her place for lunch but she would be out of town for a few days and we were expecting to move on. With Sheri’s card in hand, we bade her a fond farewell and laughed at the chance encounter we had had over the organic carrots.

Whilst Palm Springs looked more like a European town with all the fancy cars, the roads were not built to accommodate pedestrians, with very little street lighting (which I happen to love) and pavements that meander between bushes and trees. However, the pedestrian crossings were something to behold. You’d press a button and lights would start flashing to warn the cars of pedestrians about to cross. With fair warning, the traffic would be halted and the road would flash to say we could cross! This was the nearest thing to a red carpet we could have.

Once back at the room, we thanked Sheri for her time and confirmed it was a shame our paths would not align; and so an email chat started.

The next day, the sun rose high and strong, just as it does every other day. We decided we would take a walk up the Tahquitz Canyon, just a half mile walk up the road to the trailhead. Leaving the main road through the centre of town, we passed numerous big properties and gated communities, with their neat, manicured, green grass and tall palm trees. There were very few people about except one English couple we had a chat with. They were on holiday and would be sampling a proper Thanksgiving at a lavish hotel, whereas we still had nothing planned.

As we queued to enter the canyon, and part with our $15 entrance fee each, the girls in front of us were all very excited and were obviously on vacation with their parents doing other stuff for the day. They were excited to be going on an adventure without their parents and whilst the giggling would annoy some, it was nice to see them excited. However, this all changed when they reached the front of the queue. The girls split up to pay at both the park rangers behind the counter. The male ranger said they were behaving very immaturely and he didn’t believe they were 18. The rules state one of them must be 18 and without ID, he would not let them in. The girls were crestfallen…. All their excitement for an adventure had been whipped away from them, not just because they were underage and did not meet with the rules, but because they were judged as being immature, silly girls. With an arrogant smirk, he instructed his female colleague to refund any monies taken and with the same smirk, they were asked to leave. I considered offering myself as the responsible adult but, being on foreign soil, I did not know quite what this would entail and whilst there were murmurs of disapproval from behind us, no one stepped up - and so the girls left…. Politely left with near tears in their eyes.

And then it was our turn…

Do you have water and snacks with you? I can’t allow you in without at least 1 litre per person. We had water, so that was good. You must wear this brightly coloured wrist band at all times in the canyon. Yes Sir, we would comply…. After having paid our money, we were directed to a list of rules clearly displayed on the wall and I include a simplified version here for your perusal. Me being me, I dislike people who allow authority to go to their head and inflate their position of power. I dislike draconian rules that negate the need for anyone to take personal responsibility and make their own decisions. In a similar way as the girls before us, I left this rangers presence having had some of the fun and joy sucked out of me. Had I tried to say anything, I strongly suspect my voice would have been heard as if shouted within a vacuum.

The canyon walk was less than 2 miles long, climbed a mere 350 feet and was within a contained area - you could not escape or get lost, even if you wanted to! We had experienced the result of what I believe to be the litigious American culture where people would be sued if something went wrong, regardless of the fault of the person not taking personal responsibility. I guess, for every rule, there is a case that has been previously brought against them and for many Americans that seem to not walk, the heat and terrain could qualify for the strenuous difficulty advertised on various entrance warnings.

The Tahquitz Canyon is one of a few Indian canyon trails on the Agua Caliente Band of Cahuilla Indians. Their reservations span some 31,000 acres, with 6,500 acres being within the Palm Springs city limits. The Tahquitz Canyon was an ancestral home for these indigenous people, using the abundant water to grow crops and feed livestock. The trail around the canyon would take us to the water source within the canyon and see some of the evidence of the ancestral lives.

The walk into and out of the canyon was not as bad as we were led to believe. We were used to walking on days when we weren’t on the bikes, albeit we were not what we would call fit. It was as natural as a fixed trail could be and whilst there were many people out enjoying the heat and fine weather, it did not feel crowded. At one point on the walk, we looked back over Palm Springs spread out across the desert floor and remarked on how ‘flat’ it was. The highest structure was the airport control tower in the far distance and we could see planes take off and land. The palm trees were taller than the buildings and it was really nice to see planning had kept a control on permissible developments.

As we walked up the trail, we followed the course of the small river as it cascaded over rocks and pools to feed the sprinklers keeping everything green below. The top of the trail was evident with a waterfall dropping from the cliff above and marking the place where those brave enough to venture into the cold water, could have their picture taken in a beautiful landscape.

The following day was a slow start for us. Whilst everyone was rushing around to do their thing for Thanksgiving and eateries either closed, booked out or stupidly expensive, we settled in for an afternoon of pool-time and drinking wine in the jacuzzi. The air was warm, dry and scented from the well-tended plants in pristine earth borders and pots that surrounded the gated pool area. One other couple were soaking up the rays from the pool side sun-loungers and we struck up a conversation. It was their first Thanksgiving away from home and family as their children were growing up, finding new relationships and having to choose who to spend the holidays with. Much the same as us in the UK for Christmas, it seemed that they had made the decision easier for their children by taking themselves out of the equation and having a holiday away. Easier, different but we knew there would still have been some longing for the festive gathering of previous years.

At around 3.30pm, they announced they would need to get ready for their Thanksgiving gathering at a nearby restaurant, as the table was booked for 4pm. Again, we were surprised by how early everyone seemed to eat and, not wishing to buck the trend and with the wine bottle empty, we decided it was time for us to retire to the room and enjoy our very own Thanksgiving feast. Not as fancy as our new friends but a feast of turkey slices and a tray of raw vegetables and a few dips, all laid out across the bed. We know how to live!

Having enjoyed Palm Springs for a few days, we headed South, enjoying the perfect asphalt curves as we climbed over the Santa Rosa and San Jacinto mountain range to take a break in the Santa Rosa reservation, where Isi wandered off to find out more about how the ancestral Indians lived at one with the natural resources.

As we dropped into the final valley for the day, we reached home for the night - a campsite full of people partying for the Thanksgiving weekend. All of them being families so any desire to gate-crash a party was quickly quelled by the knowledge it was not the British thing to do and we had nothing to offer. So we found an unoccupied pitch and settled in for the cold night.

Did I say cold night? We woke to a layer of frost on the seat of the bikes and my breath clouded in my face as I prepared a cup of tea for Isi who struggled to escape the warm cloak of the sleeping bag that had a controlling hold with pleas and instructions being the only emissions to escape. Over the way, the family group were stirring, with some getting the fires tended, others preparing the feast and others just shrinking into canvas chairs in an attempt to hide from the cold. The dogs were keeping a close eye on the food preparation as were the younger children.

Me, I warmed my fingers over the pot as the Dragonfly roared and I went back to readying the porridge oats, dried fruits and primed the Aeropress readying them all for the boiling water and the appearance of Isi.

As the sun crept over the surrounding mountains, bidding the frost farewell and we started relaxing without the need for shivering, I went in hunt of the campground host and secured another night. A nice circular route around the dominant lump of rock that towered over the campsite became our task for the day.

Getting off the ‘main’ road that had too much traffic for our liking, we climbed up the side of the mountain, aiming for the observatory at the top. The road was sublime, with tight hairpins interspersed with sweeping curves that gave way to stunning views across the valley below. As we climbed, the temperature dropped to within a degree or two of freezing and heated grips became the topic of discussion as they valiantly retained the feeling in our fingers. Finally, we pulled up at the closed gates of the observatory to find it had closed just 10 minutes before we arrived. However, as is mostly the case, the journey had been the highlight so disappointment was easily vanquished as we enjoyed the ride back down the mountain, with new views and a rising temperature as our prize at the campground.

The next morning and having repeated the routine of frost and tea, we packed the bikes and headed out in search of Gold!

Gold. Pure Gold!

Blown out of the Desert