Better yet, traffic should be non-existent on what the internet calls South 475th Avenue. It might be a dead end. It is a one-lane dirt road on BLM land, 25 miles west of the blurred "edge" of Phoenix.
A broadband wireless signal is my excuse for camping right here on a small volcanic ridge; rocks prevent me from parking just off the road. Although this volcanic ridge is no more than thirty feet high, the agriculturally-rich Harquahala Valley is so flat that I-10 is visible, 16 miles to our north.
The dogs made a noisy fuss over four head of cattle nearby. Coffee Girl just managed to overcome temptation and follow my commands. Just before praising her my little cow-punching poodle took off after the cattle, dragging Coffee Girl with him.
He has hated them ever since a cow scratched herself on the trailer tongue and jack, years ago now. He ran alongside me, howling his brains out, as I chased the cow with a flashlight through the sagebrush, wearing only my underwear and hiking boots.
The plains are flatter than Kansas around here. Small volcanoes climb right from the plain, with no transition. It seems unnatural. Does it seem so because when you try to imagine it forming 20 million years ago, your brain wants to stretch distance out, too?
This is a mental error that I must give up. Look at how localized this quartz vein is. The surrounding matrix of granite is probably a billion years old. Then, I suppose, the granite matrix developed a fault and shifted, taking the quartz vein with it.
All hikers in rocky country have been amazed at plants growing 'right in the middle of a rock.' I had noticed barrel cacti going far beyond the call of duty in this area, but didn't know why. Ahh, here is why. They love the prominent cracks in the granite.
