The Flowered Desert

Article and Images by Bill Jordan

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Vast carpets of color painting a desert floor surrounded by rocky mountains so said my research on Anza Borrego, the largest state park (covering 600,000 acres) in the continental United States lying about an 80 mile drive east of San Diego. When there is enough but not too much winter rain, the desert plain comes alive with color. Too little rain and the seeds don’t germinate; too much and they wash away.

As the Sunday morning sun flooded the horizon, my wife, Val, and I headed east in our rented PT Cruiser on Interstate 8 from San Diego for our day in the AnzaBorrego desert.

As the fertile San Diego valley disappeared behind us, the elevation markers passed with increased frequency 1000 feet, 2000 feet, 3000 feet. The air thinned and cooled as we passed the reservation of the Viejas Band of the Kumeyaay Indians, the original native inhabitants of this entire southwestern section of California.

Historically, the Kumeyaay were horticulturists, hunters, and gatherers. They were the people who first greeted the Spanish when the Cabrillo expedition sailed into San Diego harbor in 1542. Val and I had been in this area for two days; the Kumeyaay had been here for 10,000 years. Could they give us some direction in our quest for the desert wildflowers?

We reached the Route 79 exit and headed north. The road narrowed considerably as we continued to climb higher into Cuyamaca Rancho State Park where even today most streams still contain small amounts of gold, echoing the California gold rush some 130 years passed. Cuyamaca Rancho is located in the Peninsular Mountain Range about half way between downtown San Diego and AnzaBorrego.

We reached 6000 feet to find remnants of the previous night’s snowfall covering the open fields with a delicate blanket of white. We still had sand in our shoes from the warm beaches of Coronado; snow was the farthest thing from our minds. After all, we were headed to the desert.

From 6000 feet, the desert floor was barely visible, shrouded in a thick mist marking the temperature differential between the heights of the Peninsula Mountains and the depths of AnzaBorrego.

A few miles further north to the town of Julian, where a man named Coleman first discovered gold in 1869 and a couple named Jordan discovered an unheated restaurant in 2001. Julian survived after the gold mines played out because of its climate, rich soil, and proximity to San Diego; these two Jordans survived their sub–freezing breakfast with hot coffee to begin their descent into the desert.

Down the Peninsular Range we went and across the Overland stage route on which the Butterfield Stage carried passengers and mail from Missouri to San Francisco 140 years ago. Sentenac Canyon, Earthquake Valley, and Yaqui Pass what magical names we passed to reach the floor of the Borrego Valley where lives AnzaBorrego Desert State Park.

While we approached the desert floor, I kept a keen watch behind every hill and beyond every ravine for the vast expanse of color promised by the literature. Where have all the flowers gone? began to play in the background of my mind. Should we have gone surfing instead?

Just about then I began seeing little snips of red dotting the desert floor. Litter discarded and blown by the wind? No, they turned out to be small red flowers sitting atop tiny cactus. Beavertail, according to our guidebook. We had found our first desert wildflower, however sparse they were. We soon learned from the park naturalist the full desert wildflower show had peaked a few weeks before. The vast expanse of color was over for this year, but there were still many flowers to see if we were willing to search them out. The flowers weren’t everywhere; they were exactly where they were supposed to be; it was up to us to find them.

With our Beavertail properly recorded, on we searched. Initially, the most striking feature of the desert early that morning was not the flowers, but the hordes of butterflies flying very strange patterns. They were everywhere. We learned they were Viceroys strongly resembling both the Queen and the Monarch except in flight. These Viceroys hold their wings horizontally, not at an angle like their royal relatives; hence the odd configurations. Were we all on a search for wild flowers? Fortunately, one was kind enough to pose for me on a stem of this Desert Lavender.

Just beyond the town of Borrego Springs (located in the heart of the AnzaBorrego Desert), we entered Palm Canyon and hiked out into the desert to find a huge California Fan Palm surrounded by Dune Sunflowers. The only palm tree native to western North America encircled by sunflowers ,members of the largest plant family in the world quite a meeting. And who should show up to pose again but our little Viceroy butterfly.

I found these palm trees quite fascinating, for among other things they bear a strong resemblance to what I look like first thing in the morning, droopy and disheveled. Their trunks can be 2 to 3 feet in diameter while growing 20 to 60 feet high. Their fanshaped leaves spread from around the top of the tree while numerous old, dead leaves hang down against the trunk. For this reason they are also referred to as Petticoat Palms. These huge trees mark the presence of water forming oases in an otherwise dry, parched desert. Fan Palms became habitation sites for the Native Americans supplying them with food, clothing, medicine, and building materials kind of a WalMart of the desert.

A short hike led us to this small grove of fan palms—a desert Petticoat Junction? Their lush green distinguishes an otherwise arid desert rimmed by the Santa Rosa and Borrego Mountains. Step into their shade and the desert heat immediately fades. Placing one of these bushy giants between you and the hot desert sun can be quite a moving experience, for the original California Fan Palm oases were usually located along earthquake faults.

Our final destination for our desert day was Plum Canyon. We headed south out of Borrego Springs on Yaqui Pass Road then west on 78 to the Plum Canyon turnoff. It was a dirt road the park ranger said was perfectly fine for all two–wheel drive vehicles; however, our PT Cruiser was not particularly excited about the deep sand we soon ran into. We parked and hiked in from there.

Here again the wildflowers were few and far between, but the stony cliffs of this small canyon held some lovely surprises. This red–flowered cactus is a Strawberry Hedgehog peeking out from between the canyon rocks overseen by a Cholla cactus.

The day was waning so we packed up and headed out of the desert back toward San Diego. As we passed Scissors Crossing and moved through Earthquake Valley, leaving AnzaBorrego, the temperature reached 85 degrees; yet by the time we climbed back up the Peninsular Range to Julian, the temperature had reversed itself to 58. What an amazing land where within a few short miles the environment can change so radically.

The desert floor this spring was blanketed by an array of brightly colored wild flowers, and we were there; unfortunately, these two events did not coincide.

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