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April 20
After a long, long day of contouring through the dry San Felipe hills, we pull
into paradise. At last, cottonwoods, grass, fresh water. And singing cowboys.
No place is perfect. We wash up, sink into bliss.
Pete's Journal
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April 21
We walk the eight miles of grassy fields and poppies to the golf course known
as Warner Springs. Tra la la. What the hell is a golf course doing by itself
out here? Well there's grass isn't there? Can't get our package cause it's
Sunday, so we're stuck here with the golfers and their servants til first thing
in the morning.
Dylan's Tape | Pete's
Journal |
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April 22
Orange smoke in the sky - there's a forest fire nearby. Copters keep swooping
over to snuff it. It didn't take long to get back into desert hills, there's
trees around but its still dry. Actually, the terrain is the strangest mix of
mountain and desert I've seen. The smoke and the potential it holds make it a
surreal climb. We underestimate our water and go to bed parched, 6 miles from
the next spring.
Dylan's Tape | Pete's
Journal |
