Collins Valley has always seemed to me to be a perfect desert destination as well as a jumping-off place. It's remote, but not too much so, just an easy six mile stroll from the end of the pavement on DiGiorgio Road. It's out of reach for conventional motor vehicles, but getting there on foot isn't hard.

When you climb the jeep trail from Third Crossing and get your first view of it, Collins Valley seems a cozy place. It's not hard to imagine its appeal to people through the centuries. From south to north, it's less than six miles up the valley from Lower Willows to Middle Willows on an uphill incline so slight and so gradual as to be barely noticeable. From west to east, or left to right, Collins Valley is about two miles across.

Coyote Creek runs the year-round down the valley's east side. Over on the west side are the canyons with seasonal streams, palm trees and trails into the hills. Indian Canyon, which leads to the Los Coyotes Indian Reservation (off limits to hikers without previous permission) has the remains of a tin mine. Cougar Canyon has a year-round stream, waterfalls and an old Indian temescal. Sheep Canyon provides a palm bowl and the Salvador Canyon and Fig Tree Valley routes. Salvador Canyon, named for Salvador Ygnacio Linares who was born nearby on the 1775 Anza expedition, was known to old-timers as Thousand Palms Canyon.

The Anza party camped here at Santa Catarina Spring beside Lower Willows. In the 1880s, an American cattleman named Joel Reed claimed squatters rights and built a home at Santa Catarina Spring. He spent a good portion of the rest of his life protecting his claim. Indeed, a man named John Collins took possession of the area for a while in 1910 while Reed was away. Unfortunately for Reed, this was also the year they drew up the maps. Hence the name Collins Valley.

The first time I ever walked into Collins Valley, it was on a weekday and there was no one around. If you want to be out there with minimum company, visit on a weekday. As a matter of fact, I was tired after trudging up the wash from Lower Willows to the Sheep Canyon primitive campground. When I reached an embankment with a view of the area, I decided to sit down in the shade of a low shrub. Lost in thought, I nearly jumped out of my skin when a bird made a crash landing on a metal road sign beside me.

It is doubtful I will ever forget my walk early the next morning when across the way, I saw an owl returning to her nest in the hills. She was going home after a long night of work. After my long night in my tent, I was about to begin the happy work of walking around the valley.

I tend to avoid the Cougar Canyon, Sheep Canyon, Indian Canyon and Salvador Canyon because they attract so many people. I usually prefer solitude. One day I was out there, however, when I found myself in the company of a troop of wide-eyed boy scouts. They started questioning me about directions, and their hunger for knowledge and information charmed me. Perhaps, I thought later, I should volunteer as some kind of scout leader.

One warm afternoon, I waited until late in the day before walking up Borrego Valley. As I reached Third Crossing, I calculated that I had enough time to get over the ridge and into Collins Valley more or less by dark. There was little or no traffic on the road that evening. I figured I pretty much had the place to myself and when I got to the top of the ridge looking down into the valley and it was dark, I decided to just pull off the trail a few feet and set up my tent.

At about 1 o'clock in the morning I was awakened by couple of voices. Opening my eyes, I could see the lights of two flashlights dancing up the trail. I never knew who the people were, but I passed them the next morning. They had decided to camp a few hundred yards beyond the place where I was, and they were sound asleep, missing the best part of the day. I saw them later in the day. The man, who looked to be smaller than the woman, was carrying their one backpack. So much for equal sharing of the load, I thought.

I always enjoy camping in the valley around Santa Catarina Spring. The ground holds a tent stake well, and the place attracts fewer campers than the canyons do. I went to bed out there one evening when it was dark. A few hours later, the moon rose over the low hills to the east and flooded the whole area in moonlight. Later I heard what I thought might have been an owl taking a small animal.

I have also walked through Collins Valley on my way to Middle Willows and points north, but that, depending on where you begin, is a two-night backpack. I have walked the jeep trail and I have walked partly in the riding and hiking trail (which can be slow going after horses have churned up the sand) and partly in the Coyote Creek watercourse.

At times when Coyote Creek is not so full, it's possible to enter or leave Collins Valley by way of Lower Willows.

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