In the California desert, the scene is as hot as the springs

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      Hip hotels, galleries, and eateries make Palm Springs a trip—and so do the playful flocks of gay men, lesbians, and, of course, Canadians

      A gaggle of men and women, all clad in women’s bikinis, nighties, and jogging wear, dash across the street as passersby hoot.

      It appears that deserts are full of surprises, and my first evening in Palm Springs is no exception. Witnessing the bar run—a marathon organized by the outrageous Hash House Harriers—kicks off my weekend in “America’s Gay Oasis”.

      The tag isn’t hyperbole. Almost half of the clientele and staff in every store and restaurant I visit along the main road, Palm Canyon Drive, appear to be gay men. Gay-friendly accommodation abounds, as do multiday circuit parties like the White Party.

      But it’s more than just LGBT people who flock here.

      “How can you tell that fall has arrived in the [Coachella] Valley?” Canadian expat Jean-Guy Lachance asks poolside at his gay resort INNdulge. “The licence plates change colours.” He’s referring to the Canadians who drive down here. Some snowbirds, like himself, end up staying permanently.

      Lachance, originally from Sherbrooke, Quebec, and his partner John Williams were determined to escape the freezing northern winters. The couple, who married in Quebec, bought the hotel from a straight Ontario couple in 1995.

      As we chat, several of the 20 or so men in the pool frolic naked. “By opening a gay resort in Palm Springs,” Lachance explains, “it was basically understood that [being clothing-optional] was expected.”

      Renting a car, Lachance advises, is essential for enjoying outdoor activities or exploring the nine cities that stretch across the Coachella Valley. (Neighbouring Cathedral City is where, Lachance explains, the gay community first developed. Part of the Lazy Bear Weekend was held there this past November, and a few gay hotels and clubs, like fetish bar the Barracks, remain.)

      Walking and bussing—my chosen means of transportation—are unheard of.

      I take a 30-minute taxi ride from Palm Springs to Desert Hot Springs, a community of about 20,000 people notable for its cluster of spas. We pass a forest of wind turbines that stretches out over the hills to the northwest, and the arid landscape along the way reminds me of driving the Coquihalla Highway to B.C.’s Okanagan.

      My destination: Miracle Manor Retreat. Its aesthetics and philosophy, not to mention its hot springs–fed pool, caught my attention. The minimalist décor, Asian touches (a Zen-inspired rock garden, Chinese decorative accents), and absence of technological vices (no TVs, phones, or clocks) imbue the seven-suite hotel with the feel of a hip monastery. It’s perfect for media detox without roughing it.

      Over breakfast, manager Julie Tolentino explains that the Canadians and the Swiss first developed the spa aspect of the locale. She tells me that a Manitoban woman opened the hotel, and that the current owners (a straight architect-and-artist couple) converted it into Miracle Manor.

      While there aren’t any gay-exclusive accommodations in the area, Tolentino, herself an out lesbian, notes that there are several LGBT–run places, such as the nearby Sagewater Spa and the Sacred Sands bed and breakfast in Joshua Tree.

      Back in Palm Springs, I leave the stylish Del Marcos Hotel, a non-gay-specific place I chose for its proximity to downtown and its atomic-age décor. Within walking distance to the west, the steep San Jacinto Mountains loom above the Coachella Valley.

      Star power permeates the city due to its proximity to Hollywood. I stroll along the Walk of Stars to the three-storey Palm Springs Art Museum, where I take in an exhibit of Robert Mapplethorpe’s photo portraits of Patti Smith, Yoko Ono, Keith Haring, and Tom of Finland. Behind Koffi coffee shop, I retreat from the heat by sipping on a delectable iced chocolate mint tea in the shade of a grassy courtyard, a gathering spot for gay men and their canine comrades.

      Hunger calls when I pass a diner called Hamburger Mary’s. (Vancouver’s Davie Village has one too.) At a clothing store, a salesman recommends Wang’s in the Desert, a preclubbing dining destination. The dimly lit dining room fuses modern décor and Asian accents—including a river with a wooden bridge—and a pan-Asian menu. The expansive room and bar fill fast—it’s certainly a hit. Unfortunately, I find the chicken lo mein mediocre and the rice dry.

      Moving on to Arenas Road after dinner, I explore the cluster of gay bars, cafés, and stores such as Gay Mart (unrelated to the now-closed, same-named Vancouver store). At the bustling Hunter’s Video Bar, Kylie, Janet, and Rihanna strike remixed poses on multiple screens in a sparse room. A central square bar, flanked by go-go-boy stages, serves as a focal point, while dancers bop in a separate romper room. Alas, the boys pay me no heed and I move on.

      Later at the long, narrow Spurline bar, I note the irony of a drag performance of the Eurythmics’ “Here Comes the Rain Again” in light of my imminent return to downpour-drenched Vancouver. Yet I’m also reminded of how recent rains here gave rise to greenery sprouting up along the roads, revealing what may be hidden—like the network of gays, lesbians, and Canadians I discovered—at first glance. With the clock ticking, I head off into the night to see what other secrets the desert has to divulge.

      ACCESS: High season in Palm Springs is spring and fall, while low season is summer, when temperatures soar as high as 42 ° C. For more LGBT information, visit the Desert Gay Tourism Guild Web site or the gay section of the Palm Springs Bureau of Tourism. To read more about Desert Hot Springs, go to www.deserthotsprings.com/ or www.visitdeserthotsprings.com/.

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