SEEING THE ELEPHANT

When nineteenth-century prospectors and travelers came to California, they wrote home about “seeing the elephant.” They were referring to seeing for themselves the wonders that had been described to them, and that were often disappointing. We recently did our version of seeing the elephant, at the end of a hike in Anza-Borrego State Park, which is the largest in the California state park system. Brochures at the visitor’s center referred to elephant trees, which sounded intriguing enough to justify a hike in the desert.

The hiking trail itself was only about a mile long, and not difficult. However, we first had to park about a mile from the trailhead, so we walked about three miles altogether. Though this was in winter, the sun was bright, and there was a strong wind. Trudging through the sand, I thought, these elephant trees had better be good. My companion was happier, commenting blithely on the blue sky and puffy white clouds.

There was only one surviving tree of the original “herd” of trees. On the path toward it, we had seen the usual desert cacti, ocotillos, and other plants, with information about adaptations to the desert climate. The tree itself was more interesting; unlike most desert plants, it had bright green leaves and a thick gray bark. The reason for its name is unclear; perhaps the branches look a bit like elephant trunks, or the bark resembles elephant skin. The Native Americans who once lived here revered the elephant tree, using the red sap as a medicine. 

The walk was good exercise, and the tree at its end was appealing. We had seen the elephant, and it was good. Sometimes we are not so lucky; some trails are too steep or treacherous for me. Often, though, we do reach our goal for the day, and we will continue to do so as long as we are able. This is a wonderful life!