Lynn Blamires, Special to the Standard-Examiner

I am staring out my window at piles of snow and thinking about a desert ride. I can’t see my trailer from here, but I know the deck is sporting about a foot of snow. I will have to dig it out before I can go anywhere.

The tricky part is finding a day to go while maintaining an air of responsibility. The road conditions between me and the trail are another issue. I have been challenged by poor road conditions responding to the call of pleasant temperatures on trails in Southern Utah.

This is the best time to ride desert trails. Not only are the temperatures pleasant, the flora and fauna are interesting and unique.

Barrel cacti are remarkable because of where they grow — well, of course in the desert. But when riding in the desert, when you see one, there will be more. I always wonder why they grow in the spots I find them. At this time of year, they will turn red and stand out like rubies. I remember a ride on the north side of the Valley of Fire in Nevada. As we were riding through a basin, they stood out like jewels.

The Joshua tree is another interesting desert plant. Growing in some cases as high as 50 feet, they can live for hundreds of years. For practical purposes, they don’t make good leaning posts and it is not tempting to spread a blanket under one for a picnic. When it comes to shade, they are pretty much worthless. However, the signature of a Joshua tree against the desert sky is remarkable.

Photo supplied, Kingman Daily Miner

The desert is rife with tales of survival. I was on a ride out of Bunkerville, Nevada, to a water source known as Pakoon Springs. Here I learned the tale of how an alligator survived in the pools of this desert spring for 19 years.

In 1987, a little gator was brought as a gift to Charles Simmons, who owned the spring and the surrounding land. The gator made the ride in a shoe box in the back of a station wagon from the swamps of Georgia.

Simmons knew that the temperature of the water coming out of the spring was a constant 78 degrees year-round. They named the gator Clem and released him into the pool.

Clem hid in his pond and rarely came out. He was as fierce and grumpy as you would expect a gator to be.

During some fires in the late 1980s, water from the springs was used by the firefighters. Clem had to do his best to avoid being scooped up in a bucket hung from a helicopter used to take water to the fire. However, when the operation was over, Clem was still there.

Lynn Blamires, Special to the Standard-Examiner

The rancher developed a fondness for Clem. He would buy whole chickens and bring them to the springs. He would sit near the edge and watch the gator feed.

As the gator grew, respect for him also increased. A ranch hand was working under a truck when he turned his head and saw a very large Clem waddling by too close for comfort. Nothing happened, but I am sure the guy will never forget that day.

The ranching stopped when the property was sold to the government. It was not clear if the gator’s presence was known at the time. The new owner wasn’t supplying any food and Clem was forced to live off bullfrogs and slow rabbits.

Clem became a problem when the government wanted to restore the spring to a riparian habitat. When they learned about this unlikely resident, he had to be removed.

Clem’s territory extended over 10 acres and was more like a swamp, making it easy for him to hide, and the bait offered was not tempting Clem. Finally, he succumbed to a recording of the chirping noises of baby alligators.

He was a skinny 125 pounds for an 8-foot-3-inch alligator, but it still took a crew of men to wrestle him into a horse trailer. He was placed on 60 pounds of ice to keep him cool and they traveled at night to avoid the heat.

Scottsdale, Arizona, is his home now. He weighs 550 pounds and he is no longer a bachelor. He is quite happy with his new mate, Fluffy.

When you go into the desert, take plenty of water, keep the rubber side down and learn about the trails you ride. It will make the trip more enjoyable.

Contact Lynn R. Blamires at quadmanone@gmail.com.

Newsletter