5/18

After a stint of fortunate roadside karma and the collective pampering of civilizations, of pooping in toilets consecutive evenings and finding coffee in the morning, I have brought myself back into the abyss. Fire closures routed the trail on country roads and past the eyes of strangers. Folks in Acton, Agua Dulce and Green Valley were all eager to spoil me as they saw me emerge from beneath powerlines and railroad tracks. But here I am again and it is the pain and the pleasure that let me know that I'm alive.
A cold mist settled on the desert for the past two days. What used to be limitless panoramas of sand became shrouded by thick cold clouds. We walked high on the ridge today in a still and quiet haze. The desert was like a dreamland. "There better not be a psycho clown with a meat cleaver around the corner," Bojangles said.