I am well into the basin and range domain now. The ranges are narrow, just a mile or two wide. The basins that separate the ranges are 15-20 miles wide. The upshot is that I am mostly walking through open desert. I did go through a 6-mile long fault canyon that separates two halves of the Calumet range, but everything else was gently rising and falling alluvial outflows.
Here’s what walking through the fault canyon looked like:
My camera, a Sony RX100 seems to have died. It has some short in it that drains the batteries and now it won’t recharge them. I still have my phone of course but it only takes good pictures when there is lots of light.
The ground is still damp from the rains but the flowers have not yet responded. There are a few, including some good bunches of asters, and tiny yellow flowers that hug the desert floor, but that’s about it.
Jackrabbits have been present in abundance, some of them fine specimens nearly 3 feet long. I enjoy watching them tear off in full stride, black tails flapping behind. They don’t just run at top speed, but throw in a few bounds for style points. I think if you are a jackrabbit the sheer joy of running must overcome you at times and lead you to launch yourself into the air.
Rather than run at first sight, this bunny was curious enough to stick around and watch me as I approached. The picture is crappy, but you get the idea
Jackrabbit (dead center) checking me out
Kangaroo rats are the dominant mammal, their burrows everywhere. They are to the Mojave what prairie dogs are to the Great Plains. They tunnel about 6 inches below the surface and that is the distance your foot falls through when you step on a tunnel and collapse it. I tried to avoid them but probably stepped on a hundred.
Falling into rat tunnels
And I did get one last view of Mt San Gorgonio off to the south.
Other than that, it was easy walking. I used my chromedome umbrella to provide a little shade, and walked until I was ready for dinner and dropped my pack and put up my tarp.
Not raining tonight but there is still a constant patter on the tarp, fine sand being sprayed by the wind. I expect to wake covered in grit.
Great blog told by a master story teller.