i88 CALIFORNIA DESERT TRAILS 



the base an unthrifty palo verde here and there 

 holds on to Hfe, its smooth greenness, more like 

 paint than verdure, looking stranger than ever in 

 this stark spot. For animal life, one small brown 

 wren flitted silently among the rhomboids of this 

 natural pyramid. 



The view proved worth the climb, though that 

 was a warm experience. From here the Salton looked 

 like a narrow bay, the head of which was near at 

 hand though to south no land horizon was in sight. 

 The few cultivated spots on the opposite side showed 

 black rather than green, by contrast with the pale 

 hue of sand or the white of patches of alkali. The 

 mountain barrier beyond was a mirage-like band of 

 neutral tone, giving no hint of the color flood that 

 would come when the sun passed the zenith, to cul- 

 minate at evening in the pageantry of sunset. Far 

 to south the Chocolates paled imperceptibly into 

 mere sky. Behind, the great mountain rose in leagues 

 of barren rock, tremulous with heat but unmistak- 

 able as to reality. The sky was pale hard blue, no 

 least film of vapor softening its aching glare. Out 

 over the water, sea-birds wavered in rhythmic 

 manoeuvre, like some ghostly, impossible snowstorm. 



In the afternoon I moved on a few miles to Fish 

 Springs. The road ran near the lake margin, some- 

 times on land that had until recently been sub- 

 merged. There was little of interest in the long levels 

 through which we plodded. Pale drab of dried salt- 

 grass — the ugliest grass that grows — alternated 

 with stretches of alkali where Kaweah's hoofs broke 

 through the white crust and sank into gray slime. 



