Friday morning I hit the road early. By the time the sun came up, this is what it looked like where I was driving. I find myself constantly amazed at the variation in colors in the rocks, even in a single mountainside.
The post in the lower right is the corner of the property. Between there and the truck, Bill is standing at the wellhead. On the horizon, directly over the pole, is a car, parked at the approximate property line as it heads north into the distance. Among other things, we were checking alignment, to make sure the well was where we wanted it.
Shoshone, California, by morning light. This town has a colorful history, which has yet to come to its final chapter. After a broad unpopulated stretch, it welcomes the traveler, an oasis of habitation.
Oddly, the famous Crowbar—which can be found in Google—was not listed in my Garmin GPS navigator. Shoshone is that way, perhaps on purpose. Cell phones don’t work here; don’t expect much wi-fi or radio coverage either. Not that Shoshone is backwards by any stretch, but sometimes it’s good to cut the technological leashes and run free.
Can’t beat the Crowbar for a square breakfast.
Can’t beat the Crowbar for a square breakfast.
Out here the geology doesn’t hide under a lot of foliage; the story of the rocks is laid out for anyone to read.
Dumont Dunes from the mountains that hang over it. Click on the picture and count the types of rock visible in the clear desert air. Count the number of tiny RVs you can spot in the sandy parking area.
The force of sunlight hitting a square mile of solar mirrors is approximately the same as the force imparted by a ping pong ball when it’s dropped onto the table.
The power of the sun goes far beyond the mechanical.
The power of the sun goes far beyond the mechanical.
2 comments:
I think I will pass this one on to my daughter who really wanted to live in Pahrump... because she likes the name. Why does that not surprise me?
hah
Post a Comment