There are the remains of a CCC built campground, Crystal Hill (such original naming!) where quartz crystals still abide and decent expanses of untrammeled desert. The biggest drawback is the frequent buzz of jets, helicopters and small planes which, out here, elevates their obscenity to physical violation. And they call this wilderness.
But this is my kind of campground: so overgrown it's only recognizable when seen from above. The individual campsite trailer-dumps have been diaphrammed with steel plate, the barbeque posts have been torched off at ground-level and the pink agglomerate, CCC-crafted pylons that protected the margins of each site are obscured by new growth. And not a picnic table or another person in sight.
With Eggbert's new offroad tires giving him an increased level of confidence, we took the 4-wheel road toward Scott's Well and Juniper Spring. He leaped the arroyos with ease and clambered over the steep spots with aplomb. But as I sat enjoying the Five-o'clock-martini, I smelt the odour of gasoline and the next morning discovered a leak. We hastened into town for repairs and are enjoying a Thanksgiving layover that will include the Recycle Santa Fe Art Show December 5-7.
Sunset's tender light on the Livingston Hills.