Cottonwood AZ, during a recent autumn. (This is an attempt to eliminate confusion, Rick.) The location and land-form of my new campsite are attractive. What's this? Other RVs boondocking nearby. In fact some are unappetizing Desert Rats. For some reason I pulled in anyway; normally I won't camp near others, for obvious reasons.
A couple of the Desert Rats had a campfire the first night. Seeing them huddled around it, it was easy to imagine them as the male, desert version of the "Weird Sisters" in the opening of "MacBeth."
The next morning the dogs and I walked down to the Verde River. Our first pleasant surprise was limestone. Ahh, I had a fit of nostalgia for the limestone caprock of West Texas and the Hill Country, where I spent my first snowbird winter. Limestone might not be much to look at, but it is a marvelous layer for wheels, heels and dog pads.
Soon we were along the Verde River, which was flowing with great force thanks to the recent rain. We started walking on another riverbed that seemed to parallel the Verde. Was this an overflow riverbed? There were artifacts of flow everywhere, luxurious curves of alluvium, and comet tails behind every piece of gravel. At the very bottom were large piles of detritus dumped on the river bottom.
Try as I might, it is impossible to imagine the world as sensed by an animal that has a sense of smell, what, 500,000 times stronger than ours. But their enthusiasm here was tactile: hard sand is a perfect running surface. Say, maybe this is a chance for human senses to outclass their canine senses for a change. After all, how could a callous-like dog pad be as sensitive as the human foot and toes? Besides, how long has it been since I walked barefoot outdoors, anywhere, or for any reason?
So I chucked my shoes and socks. Although the sun was warm on my face, the sand felt surprisingly cold, wet, gritty, and... my gosh, how does it feel to a third world peasant when he puts on his first pair of shoes? It must be like dropping a bag over his head.
A couple of the Desert Rats had a campfire the first night. Seeing them huddled around it, it was easy to imagine them as the male, desert version of the "Weird Sisters" in the opening of "MacBeth."
The next morning the dogs and I walked down to the Verde River. Our first pleasant surprise was limestone. Ahh, I had a fit of nostalgia for the limestone caprock of West Texas and the Hill Country, where I spent my first snowbird winter. Limestone might not be much to look at, but it is a marvelous layer for wheels, heels and dog pads.
Soon we were along the Verde River, which was flowing with great force thanks to the recent rain. We started walking on another riverbed that seemed to parallel the Verde. Was this an overflow riverbed? There were artifacts of flow everywhere, luxurious curves of alluvium, and comet tails behind every piece of gravel. At the very bottom were large piles of detritus dumped on the river bottom.
Try as I might, it is impossible to imagine the world as sensed by an animal that has a sense of smell, what, 500,000 times stronger than ours. But their enthusiasm here was tactile: hard sand is a perfect running surface. Say, maybe this is a chance for human senses to outclass their canine senses for a change. After all, how could a callous-like dog pad be as sensitive as the human foot and toes? Besides, how long has it been since I walked barefoot outdoors, anywhere, or for any reason?
So I chucked my shoes and socks. Although the sun was warm on my face, the sand felt surprisingly cold, wet, gritty, and... my gosh, how does it feel to a third world peasant when he puts on his first pair of shoes? It must be like dropping a bag over his head.
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