Little do they know that we are actually sybarites and hedonists. Take temperature as an example. Weather outside a ten degree comfort range discomfits us.
Rolling into my new RV boondocking campsite I actually parked with the door facing south, since it was a bit of a shock to feel cool air again. I can't even remember the last time that happened.
What a pleasure it is to face the southern sky and let the winter sun warm your face. Only a few days ago I was still fighting the half-year hegemony of Dry Heat. Then in a few days everything changed. Where is the life that late I led?, as Cole Porter would say. (from Kiss Me Kate.)
Anyway, today it seemed best to head for a warm canyon floor. We parked at the trailhead of a famous canyon in Sedona/Cottonwood's Red Rock Country. The main trail headed off through this:
Yawn. I don't get as excited about rocks just because they're red as some people do. The male brain, being what it is, is attracted to three-dimensional shapes and curves. Colors are a chick thing.
Besides, there is something stultifying about going on a trail that a government agency has encouraged you to go on. So I invoked the Shadow Principle and went meandering in the opposite direction, nearby.
We got a look at our old friend, the railroad that goes through the Verde River Canyon, and heads over to Chino Valley. What a pleasant ride that would be!
Our side of the river was a vertical basalt cliff. But the canyon depth was only 200 feet overall. Today's experience belied the 'four degrees per 1000 feet' rule. It was warm at river level.
The wall on the opposite side of the river was red sandstone. Notice the folds:
I heard a distant rumbling that at first sounded like a jet. It got louder, and then I heard the whistle. What perfect timing! The train was coming through. How many times do I have to blow that thing up?
