THIS???
Well, not exactly; but it was a fun start to our Palm Springs vacation. After a gourmet breakfast at the Rendezvous, our first activity was a "must do" tram ride to the top of Mt. San Jacinto. Eight thousand feet above Palm Springs, the tram deposited us in a temperate zone winter. Lots of snow and temperatures in the mid-forties, thirty or so degrees cooler than Palm Springs. Not bad, really, in the bright sunlight. We hiked a bit on slippery trails because the forest was just so darned pretty and it was actually warm and pleasant.
It's a little known fact...
We were back at the Rendezvous, a well-maintained relic of the 50's, where stars like Marilyn Monroe got away from it all, in time for five o'clock happy hour. Blue raspberry martinis and h'ors d'oeuvres by the pool, a ritual we quickly got used to. Not a "real" martini by any stretch, but not unpleasant to sip while sitting at the edge of the spa.
THIS is what we came to the desert for.
And this, the view from our room.
It's a little known fact...
that the Jeffrey pine gives off an aroma of vanilla. We read the sign next to a huge pine on Mt. San Jacinto and checked it out for ourselves. The tree didn't smell like much of anything, but I couldn't help wondering if maybe we were on Candid Camera. (Maybe the aroma is stronger in the warm weather.)
We were back at the Rendezvous, a well-maintained relic of the 50's, where stars like Marilyn Monroe got away from it all, in time for five o'clock happy hour. Blue raspberry martinis and h'ors d'oeuvres by the pool, a ritual we quickly got used to. Not a "real" martini by any stretch, but not unpleasant to sip while sitting at the edge of the spa.
THIS is what we came to the desert for.
And this, the view from our room.
On day two, we were up and out early for a long day in Joshua Tree National Park. We took a ranger-led tour of the Bill Keys Ranch in the morning and then took a eight-mile round trip hike to Lost Oasis. No pictures of this day. If you want photos of Joshua Tree, check my journal entries for March of 2010.
On the drive back to the Rendezvous, we stopped in Palm Desert for dinner. Carol had found a French bistro called Café des Beaux Arts. We weren't our most presentable (visually or olfactorily) after a day of tromping around the desert. The maitre d' wrinkled his nose not quite imperceptibly but showed us to a table out of the way of the better heeled guests. Sitting outdoors under a canopy, gazing at the fading daylight behind a mountain ridge and sipping kir royales chased the fatigue we felt and prepared us for a pretty nice meal.
Indian Wells, Palm Desert, Gucci, Macy's, Tommy Bahama, Yves St. Laurant, Mercedes Benz, Jaguar. We were where the money is. (And George Bush, apparently, who was giving a speech in Indian Wells.) I wish to report that we saw no sign of anyone in the vicinity "doing their share" of sacrifice to help control our national debt and bring the economy back to even keel. No holding back of luxuries that we could notice. Life appears to be good in this neck of the woods, the rich pouring their tax breaks back into the economy.
Getting to like hanging out with the swells, we scurried off to the Indian Wells pro tennis tournament on Sunday. The real doings don't get started until midweek. We took advantage of free parking and free admission to check out the scene and watch a couple of qualifying matches. Concessions were not yet open and the big names were nowhere to be seen, but the air was clear and balmy and the tennis was good. We watched matches between two local woman and two local men vying for a place in the draw.
Dan Kosakowski hits a forehand winner on his way to qualifying for the first round.
Monica Turewicz's concentration wasn't enough to overcome her opponent's power game.
On the drive back to the Rendezvous, we stopped in Palm Desert for dinner. Carol had found a French bistro called Café des Beaux Arts. We weren't our most presentable (visually or olfactorily) after a day of tromping around the desert. The maitre d' wrinkled his nose not quite imperceptibly but showed us to a table out of the way of the better heeled guests. Sitting outdoors under a canopy, gazing at the fading daylight behind a mountain ridge and sipping kir royales chased the fatigue we felt and prepared us for a pretty nice meal.
Indian Wells, Palm Desert, Gucci, Macy's, Tommy Bahama, Yves St. Laurant, Mercedes Benz, Jaguar. We were where the money is. (And George Bush, apparently, who was giving a speech in Indian Wells.) I wish to report that we saw no sign of anyone in the vicinity "doing their share" of sacrifice to help control our national debt and bring the economy back to even keel. No holding back of luxuries that we could notice. Life appears to be good in this neck of the woods, the rich pouring their tax breaks back into the economy.
Getting to like hanging out with the swells, we scurried off to the Indian Wells pro tennis tournament on Sunday. The real doings don't get started until midweek. We took advantage of free parking and free admission to check out the scene and watch a couple of qualifying matches. Concessions were not yet open and the big names were nowhere to be seen, but the air was clear and balmy and the tennis was good. We watched matches between two local woman and two local men vying for a place in the draw.
Dan Kosakowski hits a forehand winner on his way to qualifying for the first round.
Monica Turewicz's concentration wasn't enough to overcome her opponent's power game.
Today our hiking was local, at Indian Canyons, south of Palm Springs. We read our map wrong, and a three-mile hike turned out to be more of a five-mile trek, but it was lovely. The skies were brilliant blue. A half mile behind us, massive clouds piled up along the edge of the San Jacintos all day long. Rain drops, carried from the ridge of the mountains by the strong winds, spit at us for most of the day.
The wind pounded us all day long, but the clouds couldn't get past the San Jacintos.
The winds were intense, and sometimes made walking difficult. (We learned back at the motel that several roads were closed because of the wind. One couple saw snow plows plowing sand off the highway! They seem like nice people; I don't think they have any reason to make up preposterous stories to tell strangers.)
End of the hike through Fern Canyon
The wind pounded us all day long, but the clouds couldn't get past the San Jacintos.
End of the hike through Fern Canyon
