Cold instant coffee this morning, thanks Raccoon.
I’m in the real desert now. Sand and dust and scrub and thorns. Every horizon is full of uninhabited mountains.
Why do lizards do push ups?
Trudging through the desert, my water gone hot in plastic bottles, sweating like crazy. After hours, I come to the creek. It dribbles through a cool, tree-lined crevice. Collapsed hikers line the banks.
It’s too crowded, I think and keep going. The trail turns back onto the desert and I curse my decision to keep going. Until I come upon the creek again, a lonely pool of cool deepish water. Here’s where I want to be. I pull off my shirt and shoes and socks. My skin nearly sizzles as I lower myself into the wet, tadpoles wiggling away frantically. I pulle out my Sawyer and pump a liter of water and then pour it overflowing into my mouth.
It’s impossible to leave my little oasis. The sun creeps down, and the other hikers cruise by. “What a great spot! Look how deep the water is!” Finally, with a mightyreluctance, I pack up and start walking again. But I will never forget the sublime pleasure of lowering my overheated body into that cool fresh water.