Since the beginning of time, mankind has always had a spiritual relationship with mountains. The first ancients to walk this country left their mark around and on those granite sentinels of the ages. Although much of the mythology and ancient teachings associated with mountains has been lost over time, some examples still exist today.
The Blackfeet have their Chief Mountain. The Potawatomi have their Chequah Bikwaki Mountain. More recognizable is Tse’bit’ai (rock with wings.) We call it Shiprock and it’s located in the state of Arizona.
Anglo culture named this fascinating formation after a 19th century clipper ship because of the peak’s resemblance to a ship. Navajo legend believes that ghosts of the ancients are still buried on top of the mountain and must never be disturbed. Navajo police patrol the area to make sure their sacred mountain is never touched.
The Coachella Valley is surrounded by several mountain chains which in turn have imbued certain groups to seek solace, quiet reflection, exercise and release from their daily lives on their rocky trails. From desert rats to trail runners and even novice hikers, those mountains have been calling to us for centuries.
In Palm Springs, aside from the Tramway cable cars, the only way up the mountains is to walk. Foot paths have cut through, circumvented and traversed the foothills and mountains around here since the dawn of time. Long before the first whites came into the area, the ancients had been roaming the desert floor and traversing the mountains surrounding the Coachella Valley.
Something magical and almost spiritual can happen during a mountain hike. It’s a challenge to both the physical and mental state of being of its visitors. Taken at face value, it can be an afternoon of hiking, climbing or finger-probing the rough crags and fissures of the mountain face. On a more spiritual level, it’s an assent into the vaulted realm of oxygen deprivation, aching muscles, sweat-drenched clothing and overall mental exhilaration…if your head is in the right place.
Palm Springs has an abundance of hiking trails for both the casual hiker and serious desert rat. A favorite of mine and closer to home is the South Lykken Trail. It’s part of the North and South Lykken Trail that stretches for nine miles and takes about five hours of moderate work to traverse the entire trial. The elevation gain is only about 800 feet and it’s considered a moderate hike by local standards.
I went up there with my kids about five years ago. Both are more athletic than myself. Melanie runs marathons and Brian eats Fourteeners for breakfast. But I held my own and we had a wonderful view at top.
Back in 1972, the original Skyline Trail was renamed the Lykken Trail in honor of Carl Lykken, a Palm Springs pioneer and the town’s first postmaster. The trail crosses the foothills of the San Jacinto Mountains and offers spectacular views of Palm Springs and the Coachella Valley which stretches toward the eastern horizon.
There’s almost a culture among the small group of folks who hike those foothills and mountains all year round. They endure scorching summer heat and windy overcast winter days. Their skin looks like weathered copper or dried up old parchment. Most of them are skinny as a rail and lithe like an antelope. They’re the desert rats of the higher altitudes.
Following that elite group of desert denizens come another eccentric group of trail runners and new age meditators. They frequent the mountains like others hang out at Starbucks. Finally come the tourists, snowbirds and occasional weekend explorer (many with families in tow.)
In the spring, the trail is accented with blooming yellow brittlebush and flowering cacti…and at times an abundance of rattlesnakes. These rattlesnakes are usually very difficult to see since their coloration blends in perfectly with the rocks and gravel on the trail. One bite and it’s off to the hospital for several vials of antivenin serum. It’s an expensive proposition at several thousand dollars per vial.
Adding to the excitement of rattlesnakes in spring and fall are slippery rocks, loose gravel and rough footing. It’s not a climb for the faint of heart. Not quite like the Costa Rican rainforest but not that far from it either. (What I Learned fromHowling Monkeys)
It’s as special place as you want it to be. Not exactly like trial running back home in the Minnesota woods but the same kind of methodical, slow easy practiced run that is tougher than most long runs.
The picnic tables at the top are perfect for meditation without worrying about some rattlesnake biting you on the butt. There are scenic vistas that go on forever in a field of quiet that is almost loud. Along with your dreams and meandering what-ifs, it’s a perfect place to escape within your head and do some exploring there.