Formidable views of the surrounding San Jacinto Mountains, azure skies, and golfing on the verdant fairways of Palm Spring's most beautiful course. What could mar this bucolic scene? How about scorching temps of 114° on this end-of-summer outing. But, hey, the off-season play rate was too enticing to pass up so Kirk and I donned our golfwear and headed to Escena Golf Club for a midday round.
Summertime here in the Coachella Valley was pretty tame this year, with desert temps hovering mostly below 100° since May. Mother Nature saved her punch for the final week of August, serving up sizzling triple-digit days all week long. Two days after we golfed, the hottest day of the year was recorded—116°.
Just the day before that, the Desert Sun's headline reported the death by exposure of a young couple visiting nearby Joshua Tree National Park. The Dutch/German couple paid their entry fee at noontime at the park's southern entrance—just 30 miles from our La Quinta home—and were found dead less than seven hours later. The day's high was only 106°.
They did everything wrong. They strayed off the main artery onto a dirt side track, ignored the "4-wheel-drive-only" sign, mired their rental car in the sand five miles in, tried to unlodge it, then decided to trudge back to the road in the blazing sun instead of remaining in the air-conditioned vehicle for rescue or the evening's respite from the heat. His body was discovered one mile from the main road, hers further inland.
I didn't anticipate this couple's tragic death—an ignominious, unnecessary conclusion to a California visit—while happily swinging my golf clubs only a day before in Palm Springs.
Since we're full-time desert residents, I didn't think anything of the excessive heat inexorably inching upwards—attested to by my iPhone's handy-dandy weather app—as we continuously quaffed water and steered our golf cart along Escena's picturesque holes. I felt strong and invincible. I wonder when the vacationing couple felt uneasiness about their predicament.
On the back nine at Escena, I looked up to see a handsome coyote prowling the perimeter. She and I took each other's measure and then turned her laser gaze back to an oblivious rabbit nibbling the grass. All of a sudden, her nose swung back to me. That's because I'd retrieved a hunk of raw hamburger I'd brought for any hungry roadrunners. Intrigued, the coyote came closer. I tossed the meat toward her; she appreciatively gobbled it down then looked expectantly at me for more.
"Sorry, that's all I brought." She trotted over to watch me tee off at the next hole, then loped behind us the length of the par-4 hole. I felt bad that I didn't have any more treats. She finally veered off to rest in the shade of a tree and I waved goodbye.
By now, I'm in need of my own shade tree. I'm breathing hard and don't feel up to swinging the driver. I flop down in the grass several times. Kirk gamely plays on. I demur on the last few holes and relinquish the goal of a 18-hole score card.
After watching Kirk putt the 18th, I walk expectantly to the Escena Grill—which serves up the desert's most beautiful vista from its patio—anticipating the reward of an ice tea and some of their amazing homemade chips, only to be told that it had closed five minutes earlier. Oh well. It was a memorable day, we didn't expire in the heat, and we befriended a coyote.
Comments(1)