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.
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