Hic et Hoc

The desert is full of icons—not the church kind—the Real Life kind. The screwed up remote, four-wheel dirt “road” in Kingston that was so well-marked at the beginning and then totally lacking markers when the road dissolved into scrub and rock covered desert wash was an icon of the government running healthcare. Great at the beginning when you need nothing—does you zero good when the sun is going down and you’re really needing a sign to get out of the wash.

Ravens are iconic for the beta male mentality our country seems to promote instead of the Marlboro Man. Misguided yucca huggers have succeeded in making it illegal to kill ravens. But ravens are lethal, cunning interlopers who ravage the natural animal environment of the desert. They kill baby turtles as they hatch; they eat the eggs of native birds; and, ravish the snake population. (I don’t really care about the snakes but still, they have their purpose on the Mojave.)

Perhaps the most striking icon in the desert is WATER. Everything about this dry moonscape right here on earth sucks moisture out and seems to return nothing. Yet, ever so often, in the middle of the desert, there will be a small creek, a spring, a pool and even underground rivers. The Amargosa River is only stagnant ponds in places, a free-running creek in others. Gremshaw Basin is HOT water but you fight the mud mites to get out to soak in it. Of course you also fight the naked German tourists covering themselves with mud as well!

Death Valley didn't get its name for nothing. After dry camping up at Mesquite Campground we headed to sea level Stovepipe Wells and SHOWERS! Ahhhhh--the steam, the abundant water, the clean hair. Yet, at the same time, I was choosing to do something expressly forbidden by the doctors who have been managing my case. I opted for the immediate gratification rather than the risk of a set-back. Who knows? Tomorrow one could get attacked by ravens and end up a pile of dry bones in the desert.