Fall is clearly marked on the calender as arriving this Friday. Here in the Coachella Valley, however, summer is tenaciously holding on as September contemplates October.
Ignoring the day's forecasted triple digits, my stalwart hiking companions, Sue and Mary Pat, donned poles and backpacks to join me early this morning on the season's very first hike—a two-hour tromp through our favorite patch of desert, the Coachella Valley Preserve. Watching the sun crest the mountains and spill over the prickly terrain reminded us of the incredible beauty and serenity in store for us this season.
The network of trails here commences with a vertical scale up to the top of Bee-Rock Mesa, a long, narrow ridge with stellar canyon views. At the top, we decide to veer off to the south, dropping down off the mountain top toward Hidden Palms, a hidden oasis of California Palms, the only palm native to the Golden State. The difference in temperature from parched path to cool oasis is always startling, and I'm reminded of the native peoples who learned to thrive in the Palm Springs valley by relying on shady oases and natural water wells.
As we wend through the palm grove—with its mysterious rustling sounds—I spy coyote scat. Although I finally met a coyote face-to-face a few weeks ago while playing golf at Escena Golf Club in Palm Springs, I've yet to encounter one while hiking. We did see a fox here last year; that was a thrill I'd like to repeat.
Trudging up a steep incline, Sue spots something small scurry across the path. The tiny creature turns out to be a baby Horned-Toad Lizard, an exquisite reptile who could be a stand-in for a miniature triceratops. The colorfully mottled lizard blends in so well with his native terrain that Mary Pat has a hard time spotting the hunkered-down baby.
We crest the ridge to descend the one man-made part of the trail. I'm taking one final photo before tackling the formidable stairs. All of a sudden, I notice something odd—a whitish coil of serpent tucked to the side of the path. It's a baby rattler, probably waiting for the sunshine to warm him up. Coiled in a tight bundle, he's only about 5" across. I think the snake's lighter color alerted me to his presence since his camouflage wasn't as spot-on as his lizard counterpart.
"Ladies, guess what I see?" Mary Pat and Sue dutifully clamber back up the path to ooh and aah my discovery. The rattlesnake quietly endures the photo session and no doubt wishes we would scoot.
When I return home and peruse last season's hiking notes, I am started to realize that the first, and last, time we spotted a Western Diamondback rattlesnake was on these same steps one year ago. That specimen was fully grown, in the middle of the path, poised and rattling. During that same hike, Mary Pat had also spotted our first baby Horned-Toad Lizard. I just don't get why a snake would want to be anywhere near a well-trod path in the first place. Surely, the thud of hikers' boots would scare off potential prey.
Resolving to query a Coachella Valley Preserve docent later on, we reluctantly part ways with the snake and marvel at the day's amazing animal encounters. It's a good start to the new hiking season!
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