Elephant Feet, northern Arizona. These landmark rock formations provide a good dog walking or breakfast break for an early morning traveler.
Continuing on quickly, because once again it is late at night and sleep beckons but I have a good internet connection, a few more photos from the trip east so far. Though in real time I am now in north Florida at the home of another dear friend, virtual time will take awhile to catch up. So much to think about, so much to say, so little time. I always think that I will have more time to write on a road trip than I ever actually have.
Shooting with the Border Patrol at the Ajo range.
A friendly neighbor of friends in Ajo shows me the proper grip on my pistol. He spends his workdays or work nights on horse patrol in the southern Arizona desert, with all kinds of digital assists mounted on his gun, his helmet, his pony, seeking “stuff” in the desert.
Me shooting a rifle at the range. With the raging gun control debate I felt the need to get a first-hand look at what all the fuss is about.
The iCat at work late at night, trying to post his pictures online.
Ajo held so much more for me than just the magnificent desert, immeasurable delight in the company of friends, unsurpassed surprises, unsolvable puzzles, and of course the incomparable cholla.
Ancient ribs of the saguaro cactus.
Raven and Stellar on the trail at Rock Hound State Park, New Mexico.
Small and vicious fishes nibble my feet with their tiny teeth at Balmorhea State Park in west Texas. After a surprising and kind of scary encounter with the Border Patrol east of El Paso, in which all of us, the dogs, the cat, and I had to wait outside the Mothership while a federal dog inspected our hold for “concealed humans or illegal narcotics,” it was a relief to settle into our campsite. For me, this is a not-to-be-missed stop any time I’m crossing I-10 through Texas. The “largest spring-fed swimming pool in the world” is a constant 72-75 degrees F, and no matter the ambient air temp provides a blissful swim unfettered by lanes or even other people. Like a little fish myself I splashed and floated and played for only a short while this time, before my core complained of the cold.
Cypress trees cling to the cliffs of the Guadalupe River at the state park of the same name thirty miles north of San Antonio. We pulled into our campsite just in time to run to the river and catch the last light, then enjoyed a campfire and cocktail.
The Louisiana Welcome Center on I-10 coming from Texas provides a large grassy space with picnic tables along an inviting curved shoreline. We picnicked there on cheese, crackers, and salami, early in a long driving day, aiming for a park on the Mississippi gulf coast.
And the Mississippi Welcome Center had definitely caught the Mardi Gras fever with this gaudy mannequin standing by the information desk.
We camped two nights ago at Buccaneer State Park in Waveland, Mississippi, where reconstruction of buildings, campgrounds, and the beach itself is underway after a hurricane last fall.
Illegal dogs on a white sand beach just after sunrise on a Monday morning.
And just because, a beautiful beach scene. If someone bought me a house in Bay St. Louis and told me I had to live there, I’d move in a heartbeat. Imagine that.