Thursday, September 02, 2004
Only the Finest Sand
09/02/04
What's the first thing you think about when you think of desert? Heat? Sand? Rainfall?
Sand wasn't the first thing I thought of. I didn't think of it at all until I was walking in it. Great dunes are not here, but the trail, which is a two-track, has been reduced to sand, in some places deep, fine sand. If that weren't bad enough, my new shoes (from Jackson) already have holes in the side, of course where the gaiters don't cover.
So my pack's heavy with water (desert), I'm trying to make big miles (leave the desert) and all I can manage is to lose half the push of each step to sand moving underfoot. Ugh.
Now, not all steps are in sand, nor all as terrible as I just described. It's just that I didn't expect it. Enough of that.
I saw tiny horny toad lizard today. It's body and feet could have fit on a nickel. It was SO cute.
The landscape flattened out as the day progressed. As I was walking the straight two-track road, the horizon ahead was suddenly full of life. A herd of antelope, silhouetted against the sky, were moving across the top of the rise. I also saw two coyotes at dusk. They ran when they saw me.
I've got my tarp up tonight. It sprinkled a little today, but not much more than the spray from passing a large urban fountain. Still, the clouds above and around are dark. From inside my little fort, I can see lightning flashes on the horizon. They are so distant that the thunder dissipates before it reaches my ears.
For a while I thought I was hearing some thunder distorted by distance, but it just didn't work. I listened more. It sounded like hoofed animals walking. I listened more. They were getting closer. Soon I could make out two distinct black shadows. What were they? They moved closer as I tried to remain silent. I struggled to comprehend their large-ish forms moving through the dark. I tried to shine a light on them, but I have lightweight, thru-hiker lights. They do not make good spotlights.
I saw nothing, and yet managed to not scare away the visitors. As they clomped pass, heading uphill, I eventually made out their forms: a foal and her calf: wild horses. I think they are still lurking nearby, so I pulled all my salty stuff deeper into the shelter.
I thought I'd make it into Rawlins, Wyoming, tomorrow, or by Saturday morning at the latest, but I won't make it until Sunday sometime. That means that I can't get my boxes until Tuesday. UGH!!! Maybe I'll get lucky at the post office on Sunday or Monday.
