Getting Above it All in the Desert

MY EDITOR IS UNAWARE of the sadistic nature of his strong suggestion. “Since you’re going to Palm Springs this weekend, you really need to check out that mountain tram,” he says, ignorant of a fear of heights that keeps me even from driving across the Coronado Bay Bridge.

His are the last words I hear before setting out too late on a Friday afternoon to beat the traffic for a desert—and now, apparently, a mountain—getaway. Inching along the freeway, jammed between semis and SUVs hauling ATVs, I have way too much time to worry about the little touch of acrophobia that occasionally causes me big problems. It’s a troubled drive.

Even though it’s long dark by the time I arrive, the Doral Desert Princess Resort is a welcome sight. Located on the border between Palm Springs and Cathedral City, the hotel sits on 345 acres and shares its grounds with a championship golf course, palm trees galore and a scattering of small lakes that, viewed in daylight, stock an impressive number of koi that are near-mesmerizing to watch. It’s a quiet address that provides a postcardperfect view of the San Jacinto Mountains.

Definitely no stress here.

I’m situated in a second-story corner suite, nicely and brightly furnished and the size of a downtown San Diego condo. Its most compelling selling point is a large wraparound balcony that overlooks the lush grounds and mountains on one side and a super-sized swimming pool on the other. A great advantage of visiting a resort known for golf and tennis—the Doral has 10 courts—is the comparative paucity of pool-goers.

Saturday, I stake out an ideal poolside spot and find precious few competitors for lap swimming. With early-afternoon temperatures hovering around 75 degrees on the firmness of the desert floor, I seriously question any plan to hoist myself up to 8,516 feet, dangling in thin, 40-degree air in a contraption that—from the promotional photos, at least—resembles a big fat salad spinner. But I’m as determined as my editor; it’s onward and, yes, upward.

Opened in 1963, the engineering wonder known as the Palm Springs Aerial Tramway has hauled millions of passengers from its boarding station at 2,643 feet (reached by car off Highway 111) more than a mile up the sheer eastern face of Mount San Jacinto. At the top is a station that’s the entry point for the mountain’s sprawling namesake state park and wilderness area.

Since 2000, the tram has used two 360-degree rotating cars—billed as the world’s largest and the first of their kind in the Western Hemisphere. Each car is encased by ceiling-to-floor windows, giving 80 thrill-seeking visitors—oh, boy—a simulation of floating in air. Passengers stand in the tram for the 11-minute ride to the top, which my brain quickly translates as 660 seconds of hyperventilation.

Boarding, I scope out a spot three rows back from the windows. An influx of hikers, most of them encumbered by large backpacks and sharppointed walking sticks, somehow gets me jostled to a window position just as the tram jerks out of the station on its steep ascent up Chino Canyon. I grab hold of the handrail in front of me and the thin shoulder blade of a small child next to me. He yelps and clings to his mother, who shoots me a look that could kill. I quickly grasp that it’s time for me to get a mental grip, try to relax and enjoy the view that has everyone else on board oohing and ahhing.

THE SCENERY IS, in a word, magnificent. As the tram moves up the canyon, the vegetation segues from cactus and yucca trees to oak, firs and towering pines. Looking down to the desert floor, I focus on one of the Coachella Valley’s many windmill farms, and their poles and blades start to look like so many flimsy matchsticks with the increasing altitude. Geologic formations along the canyon walls rapidly change in color and mass.

I strain to hear the piped-in audiotape that explains the daunting challenges of building the tram—workers and supplies had to be dropped in by helicopter, for example—but the chatter of my fellow travelers drowns it out. There’s a collective, audible gasp every time the tram passes through a support tower, which causes the car to dip and gently roll, but overall, the ride is smooth. My obsessive fretting was for naught; this is a fun trip.

At the top station, I spend an hour enjoying the dramatic, panoramic views and brisk mountain air. Snowcapped peaks are just a few hundred feet farther up. In another month, skiers and snowboarders will be out in force.

The descending tram ride near dusk is mercifully more quiet and calm than the ascent. Standing near the center of the tram, I still have a lovely view of a soon-to-be-full moon and the vast scattering of stars that city lights obscure. It’s a lovely, 11- minute opportunity to reflect: From the hot desert floor to a mini-stratosphere in just a few minutes—isn’t this what California is all about?

IF YOU GO

The Doral Desert Princess Resort is at 67967 Vista Chino, Cathedral City, 760-322-7000; doralpalmsprings.com. Rates for a double room begin at $189 per night; suites at $329. The Palm Springs Aerial Tramway is open daily, with departures beginning at 10 a.m. weekdays and 8 a.m. on weekends and holidays. The last tram departs at 9:45 p.m. The round-trip fare is $21 per adult, $14 per child; fares are $3 less after 3 p.m. For more information, call 888-515-8726 or see pstramway.com.

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