Went hiking to a palm grove, up a canyon you'd never know it was there. Drive to a 1857 historic stagecoach station site, but nothing was left but fenceposts. The site was about 12 miles down a trail whose last three miles was about 3" of running water in a narrow wash, so naturally it threw up some mud. Sigh. People who have been reading my reports for a couple of years know I don't really appreciate mud. Anyway, enjoy the pics, all ye with snow for Christmas.
Almost a full moon. No good views of the stars this trip, but Venus and Mars were spectacular.
Sitting around the campfire with nice wine at 45 degrees. The low that night was 30. Shared bodily warmth is essential, but less fun when your partner is wearing flannel long johns, mittens, and a wool hat.
Anthill cleanup after the rains.
The canyon to hike into.
Mutant barrel cactus.
Normal barrel cactus.
View of the grove.
Self-portrait with the camera on a tilt - forgot to being the tripod.
Up close. Some human had set the dead palm fronds on fire that normally hang down low on the trunks. The trunks are burned, but the palms survive, since fire is a normal part of their development. It does drive out the critters who normally live in the fronds - snakes, rats, and thousands of scorpions.
View back to the valley.
Spot of Christmas mud.
In the middle of frickin' nowhere, some prankster put up a semi-familiar intersection sign. I've seen pictures of this on the net, but never knew its location, which I suspect is not to be shared. You have to find it yourselves. :raspberry
A final close-up of the mud to freak out the folks who keep their trucks clean like show poodles. :thumbsup:
And we usually have more time for food prep on a trip, and no microwave, so it's all the old fashioned way. Here's a few pics of camping, Roadie style. It's my college housemate and expedition partner Paul working his Blackberry on a rare time we had a signal, and reading the book with the odd title.
