There are loads of deserts in this big ol’ world, but in Calgary, when we say we’re going to the desert, we mean Palm Springs. Or Palm Desert, Indio or any place in between. Although with the massive sprinkler systems here, it seems more oasis than desert. Flying in from the black, white and brown tones of a miserably long winter to the hi-def technicolor of the Coachella Valley, I felt like Dorothy when she realized she wasn’t in Kansas anymore.
My first stop was the Eldorado Polo Club. During their season, January through the end of March, you can find a game being played just about any day of the week. 
Anyone can watch for free.
On Sundays, see the match in style under the white tent of the Clubhouse, with table service for food and drinks.
Or pull up your vehicle to the side of the field to tailgate.
After, head to the other end of the club for a margarita at the Cantina. You never know who you’ll bump into. Chances are good it could be a Canadian, as evidenced by the ice hockey on the TV in the background. Or it could be country singer Pete Martinez, whose latest album was produced by Dave Matthews.
Outside the Cantina, while the sun sets over Mount San Jacinto and the second highest mountain range in Southern California, there’s usually a desert dog who’s feeling social.
Beyond the action of the games and the parties, there’s a quiet calm at the club. Tack rooms here had green roofs way before they became a LEEDS trend.
Peep into a stall hidden by plywood and you might just find a foal like this one, five days old.
On the track, grooms drift by, managing up to seven ponies at once.
Up next, coverage of El Paseo Fashion Week and my attempt at a shopping spree that had nothing to do with fashion.
