The towing company advised me to wait until Christmas blows over. So today should be a strange day: riding 30 miles in a tow truck to Phoenix, with my two dogs--if he permits it. What if we need a ride back?
But is 'stranded' the right word? Everything is stocked up in the trailer. The air is chilly and the door is facing the southern sun, which feels semi-warm in the afternoon. What a perfect place to celebrate the Day of the Rebirth of Sol Invictus, the Latin holiday the "atheists" turned into Christmas.
Looking at this during the morning walk is hardly something to complain about.
It seemed strange to walk on a flat plain. We just kept going and going. The morning the cold front came through, the sky was preternaturally blue. The wind kicked the dust up, but the dust stayed low and dense. It enveloped this mountain like fog, with a sharp stratification between crystalline blue and hazy brown.
As the hike continued, the mountain revealed itself as two. One glance at this alluring decolletage and the next hike was decided.
I really need to move closer to this mountain. It's where the best mountain biking and hiking are, and my present boondocking campsite is in the middle of a rifle range. The other night three illegal immigrants walked down the road, in the headlight beam of a car.
