A few mornings ago, the mules and I woke to a heavy fog. I saddled the damp mules and we headed in to the foggy desert landscape.
Fogged inFirst tracks: we followed this dirt road, where we’d camped, to the highway.Usually, when a windmill is turning, you can hear the clank of the sucker rod, the rod that pulls the water from the ground. On this foggy morning, muted by fog, the wind mill silently pumped water to the desert surface.Abandoned: a railroad trestle, once use to haul cattle cars to eastern markets.
I’m not a fan of road riding in the fog. Out here, though, the highway shoulders are wide, That means in less than perfect conditions I can ride the grassy shoulder’s edge (sorta) far away from oncoming traffic.
You don’t hear trucks roaring out of the fog until the last moment. They whoosh by and….….disappear in to the gloom.
Walking up the road in the fog doesn’t mean you can’t find anything interesting…maybe even to eat.
I stop the mules to investigate a blue packet on the side of the highway.It’s an energy bar.It’s a second breakfast.
Around 9am, the fog lifted. The land went back to looking like the desert landscape we’ve been traveling these past weeks.
Mile marker 2: the desert is greener than usual this year because of all the rain the region has gotten this year. The tall grass in the bar ditch is brome grass.
