We are a commune of inquiring, skeptical, politically centrist, capitalist, anglophile, traditionalist New England Yankee humans, humanoids, and animals with many interests beyond and above politics. Each of us has had a high-school education (or GED), but all had ADD so didn't pay attention very well, especially the dogs. Each one of us does "try my best to be just like I am," and none of us enjoys working for others, including for Maggie, from whom we receive neither a nickel nor a dime. Freedom from nags, cranks, government, do-gooders, control-freaks and idiots is all that we ask for.
Early morning and late afternoon is the best time to see and appreciate the desert, as the angles of the sun make colors clearer and shadows more dramatic. This morning we went just west of Las Vegas to Red Rock Canyon. The greater Las Vegas basin once was under an inland ocean, so you can see the strata of sediments on the exposed sides of the hills. Unfortunately, I have an old camera, making the distinctions less clear than from the new fangled digitals, but look closely anyway.
Along the road, we met a friendly burro. I told the boys that is what burritos are made from, and they believed me, for a while anyway.
Near to Red Rock Canyon is Old Nevada, a run down mock mining town. I, finally, got the boys under control but their lock-picking skills sped their breakout.
I had thought I'd caption this one a meet-up with a fellow (dummy) blogger. However, later in the week I set out to do some desert hiking. I met up over a coffee at a dump in the outskirts of LV with an even older and much scruffier prospector, Andrew, and we headed out into the Mojave Desert together for a several mile hike to collect some small rock samples. I'd forgotten the camera, I was so excited to get going at dawn. You have to walk through the desert to appreciate its wonderous diversity of flora and fauna, changing almost every few or hundred feet with the slightest change in elevation or water table. I depended on Andrew's directions but practiced my orienteering. I've seen even experienced desert hikers get confused, turned-around, lost within several hundred feet of where they set out. At distances and close-up, the seeming samenesses can fool the unobservant or careless.
A six-pack after Andrew and I returned to our start point, I headed back into Las Vegas. Next stops on our visit with you, the Strip.
Makes me nostalgic for the years we lived in El Paso. For a yankee who grew up hiking and canoeing in the Adirondacks, it was quite a change of venue. I miss it more than the NYC suburbs where I grew up.