RETIREMENT TRIP #6

     A MOUNTAN NAMED RYAN    

                   October 2015                 

At 8:30 a.m. it’s a delightful breezy 72 degrees in Twenty-Nine Palms.

From the trail up Ryan's Mountain, huge monzo-granite
boulders on the valley floor look like piles of pebbles.

As we climb higher along the trail up
Ryan's Mountain, the landscape
expands before our eyes.

“This town hasn’t changed too much in the last five years,” said Andy.  All the growth is up the other way. When Andy pulled into the Ryan’s Mountain parking lot at 9:00 a.m., the temperature read 65 degrees.  I pulled on a jacket, and he grabbed the backpack.  The trail guide rated the climb as strenuous—a one-and-a-half-mile steep climb to the top that takes most average people one-and-a-half to two-and-a-half hours.   But Ryan’s Mountain is the most popular hike in the park.

From Ryan's Mountain Trail
looking far across the valley near
Palm Springs, Mount San
Jocinto rises above
surrounding peaks to 10,504 feet.

The trail, stone steps in some places, loose gneiss pebbles and powdery sand in others, circled smaller peaks before it crossed the top of Ryan’s Mountain to the actual summit, 5,458 feet. We had gone up 1,000 feet in elevation, and we had the top all to ourselves, even though we had passed hikers descending as we climbed.

Perched on the "memorial" pile of rocks,
Andy reigns temporarily as conqueror
of Ryan's Mountain.

“I’m adding my touch,” said Andy, placing a rock on the pile at the top, “and one for you.”  Gently he put two more pieces of stone on the huge collection already there.  We had left our mark on Ryan’s Mountain, along with a whole host of others.  Holding our hats, we checked out the 360-degree view. With the world beneath us, we were alone on the pinnacle.

Chilly but sunny, the summit
offers peace and solitude.

Going down was easy by comparison, and we passed 24 people ascending in the sun.

Descending takes us half the time
and effort as the climb up.

“It’s a morning hike,” said Andy.  We had picked the right time when the whole back side was shaded.

 I stripped off my jacket back at the car.  The whole three miles had taken us two hours and five minutes, including time for photographs, chatting and browsing at the top.  Pretty good for a couple of old timers!  And now it was 84 degrees.

From White Tank Campground we followed the half-mile Arch Rock Nature Trail in a loop through the boulders. I even squeezed in between the rough granite for footing to climb to the arch.  I made it, but unfortunately two young men were taking time-lapse shots from the center of the arch. It kind of spoiled my pictures but I did the best I could.  They were there first.  Shakiti Na Gai! A trail sign here said the monzo-granite intrusion occurred 135 million to 155 million years ago when dinosaurs roamed the area.

The Cholla Cactus Garden thrives in a very limited
elevation and climatic zone.

Staying away from the threatening spines
of any teddy bear cacti,we stop
to read the nature pamphlet.

The Cholla Cactus Garden, expanded dramatically since we were here last, gets less than four inches of rain a year on average.  We walked carefully in the center of the quarter-mile trail, but some foreign visitors stood bent over across the street. One of them had come too close to a teddy bear cholla.  In obvious pain, he picked the tiny spines from his shoe and pants leg.
The quarter-mile Bajada Trail identified plants of the Sonora Colorado Desert. I took a picture of a plant that looked totally dead like many other piles of sticks in this area of the park, but I still haven't been able to identify the name.  The sign explained that this plant has tubular red flowers that attract hummingbirds after it rains.  Like many desert plants it drops its leaves to conserve moisture in dry times.

At Cottonwood Spring, a natural oasis
in the desert, the tall cottonwood competes
with palms for water and sunlight.

“This whole area at the South end of the park is different from the rest,” said Andy, as we headed back toward the interior. No Joshua trees at these lower elevations and many dry washes draining the lifeless slopes.  Palo verde and ironwood have a foothold on the bajadas, slopes at the bases of mountains at lower elevations.

Heavy with leaves, an
ocotillo in the wash near the
side of the road in Joshua Tree,
shows evidence of recent
rainfall up-canyon.

Pleasant and refreshing in the shade
Cottonwood Spring attracts life now,
just as it did for Cahuilla Indians
a couple centuries ago.

For centuries people have known about Cottonwood Spring.  We didn’t.
“That was a pleasant surprise,” said Andy, as we pulled in.  Palm trees at least a hundred feet tall, towered above us in a small cluster.  Fan palms spread wide beneath them and a giant cottonwood intertwined, reaching up straight and tall for sunlight.  Cahuilla Indians lived here and used the granite boulders as mano and metate, after gathering native plants from the desert for food.  The presence of water produces wonders, and the contrast was especially sharp after walking through the bajada, where everything looked dead. 

But here too was “death.”  Signs warned visitors not to deviate from the short trail.  The area had been totally contaminated with arsenic, lead and other hazardous metals from the abandoned mines up the wash.
Dagger yuccas popped up as we drove back toward the higher elevations and Pinto Basin.

At mile 12 we found a grove of ocotillo.  The ones close to the dry wash had leaves—some heavy with foliage.  Some across the road were already dry and brown.  It was an amazing contrast in so limited an area.  It just shows what a little water can do.

Steel sculptures highlight the median
divider along National Park Way at the new
main entrance to Joshua Tree National Park.

National Park Way is the new main entrance to Joshua Tree National Park.  “They did a nice job,” said Andy.

I agreed.

In the late afternoon we drove to Marengo to walk the boardwalk at the Big Marengo Wildlife Preserve, a natural oasis in the desert.

The recently completed National Park
Way welcomes visitors with class and style.

The preserve, located at the base of the peak, naturally collects water as it pours down to a solid hard layer of rock.  Here it doesn’t penetrate down, so plants grow in profusion.  Signs warned of mountain lions.  No wonder.  I’d say good hunting.  We walked a mile of boardwalk, amazed at the wide assortment of undergrowth, and then headed back to Twenty-Nine Palms  before sunset.