Five minutes from downtown Palm Springs, a former Hollywood hangout where the ghosts of Dinah Shore and Bob Hope still stroll, five friends and I on a winter getaway filled our water bottles and smeared on sunblock at the trading post-themed Indian Canyons visitor center.
Our timing was perfect. A guided ranger walk was about to begin. We lined up and followed him single-file along the Palm Canyon Trail, from the sun-parched ridgetop into a shady canyon crowded with palms wearing thick crowns of waxy fronds and bare roots that reached toward shallow puddles and inky streams. I'd never seen an untrimmed palm before, and the ranger explained that the thick layers of dead fronds that eventually skirt the trunk form a habitat unto itself.
We hiked backward in time through a prehistoric landscape only minutes from what's become a mecca for martini-sipping hipsters and devotees of midcentury-modern architecture.
I'd always bought into the misconception that Palm Springs was a dull desert getaway best suited for grays, golfers and gays (at least a combination of the two), so for many years I was a Palm Springs holdout. All that changed several years ago when a funky artist friend moved there full time for the spectacular weather (most of the year) and the getting-cooler-all-the-time culture. For me, it's the city's namesake that keeps me coming back: palms and the wet oases where they thrive.
Water in the desert? A mirage? Not a bit.
Palm Springs is home to some of the biggest palm oases in North America. These are my don't-miss recommendations for the best.
