Most animals, when not fleeing in terror, behave as if they're curious. The few snakes I've met lying in the road had proprietary airs. This one was eminently polite in that it was, as I became aware of it, moving away.
It raised its head to ensure a clear view of the triangular shape and it gave forth with one, little "click" of its tail, lest there be any doubt. But the impression was of benign consideration...more, perhaps for my bumbling and its potential for injury than any concern for *my* welfare, but no hint, at least as far as I could tell, of aggression.
Anthropomorphizing has been looked down upon by the western mind of Greek origin, but of late, as occurred with olde-timey religions, people are drifting away from that sterile, emotionless world and appreciating that we, as members of the animal kingdom (and perhaps even innanimate things too) have similar emotions as the rest of the menangerie prompting me to surmise that, at least for some, their fear has been engendered by our self-centered disregard...rather than anything innate.
The day began with an impending crisis: tea-milk shortage! Urgency was imbued through the collective unconscious awareness of a single jug sitting, at risk, at the store in Empire, the only store for 60 miles. We arrived in time to be the chosen ones.
Returning to Bruno's Country Club in Gerlach, we met Zach, the new chef. He'd just arrived from northern Indiana via Houston, Missouri and a couple of other places inbetween. Our veggie omelettes had us both sitting up and beaming like a pair of prairie dawgs.
And when a German sits down to eat, it's serious business.
Burning Man without the other 79,998 people expected this year.
I've come to think of Nevada's claim to fame as the astounding expanses that're constantly changing with the light. We spent three days watching.
The pentangle in the lower left is the area wherein Burning Man occurs.
We camped on a bluff. The image above is of the view southward...toward Gerlach.
Here, the distant hills (above) seen in the previous photo, emerge while the closer "humpies" disappear. (Humpies is a term borrowed from the lexicon/nomenclature of sexology. Though I began my undergraduate work in Geology, I eventually moved to Geography where things were more, to my way of thinking, more lyrical.)
...is a calcium carbonacious buildup (precipitate) at the southwest end of Pyramid Lake. A sulphurous air wafts about, though the waters, here and there, are cool.
The variety of forms suggest growth or deposition in the open, but all the elongate forms are horizontal.
It was within a short amble of our camp so I set out with my guide. She'd done a prelim explore and deemed it worthy. That meant, for us, that aside from exclamations of delight, our loupes were screwed to our eyes and our noses glued to the rock; we scrambled among the forms as children in a funhouse.
Experimenting with my meds, I waited too long to take them and though felt no angina, the onset of syncope had me wondering if I'd reached the terminus. It's a strange way to live, but provides a great appreciation of ability, despite only being able to clamber 750 feet horizontally and 50 feet up a hill.
Insert Here
We'd left Spanish Springs well-supplied but I'd forgotten glue for tire plugs and we needed water.
At the Marina we got into a discussion about the road north and learned it was closed. The east-side option was open though.
Strolling to the pay-per-gallon water dispensor, Brandon told how he worked at the lodge and at Wimco (a large grocery) in Spanish Springd and was just there to help out the cashier; he wasn't an employee. The pay water was complicated, requiring a code, so Brandon showed us a spigot by the lodge. And we found camp with still plenty of light for gathering wood.
The marshmallows were superb as we watched herds of geese sedately swim in a moderate gale. A flight of pelicans went overhead at hardly more than 40 feet.
Best of all, we'd avoided a wasted trip up the west side and instead, we'll go through Nixon to Gerlach.
A molar began acting out. There were two to choose from in Bishop. One was a gun-totin' christian whose wife was his receptionist and assistant. The other was a Gen-Xer who'd moved his family from Oregon to enjoy the great outdoors. The gun-toter was never really in the running and the other's server crashed that day. They had no backup so had no idea when appointments were scheduled. I suppose I could've just shown up, but I wasn't in that much pain.
I asked her to call if they had an opening, but she never did. We moved on the next day.
This shop is one of those incredible finds. The woman who owns it retired from a position as a wholesaling rep for a multi-million dollar clothing corporation. For the past twenty years she's dealt in fine furniture and has an exceptional eye for quality. The store is curated like an upscale boutique but with an accessible comfortableness that makes you feel relaxed and willing to browse. She has clothing, antiques and a small selection of giftables. Prices are reasonable. Across from The Grid Brewery.
