Long-suffering readers of this blog know that no autumn/winter is complete without a rant against the Pacific Time Zone. Of course we could focus on good news: Algodones, Baja California Norte, Mexico has (unofficially?) seceded from the Pacific Time Zone and joined Yuma time. So has Winterhaven, California, USA.
Let's hope that Blythe CA and the towns close to Colorado River in Nevada do the same thing. The ultimate triumph would be to win over Clark County NV to the cause of Truth and Justice.
I refuse to update my van's clock and computer to Pacific Time. What an annoyance it is, every year, to undo the absurdity of Daylight Savings Time on the first Sunday of November. Then in a few days I travel between St. George UT and Mesquite NV. That involves going through the 'Bermuda Triangle' or 'Twilight Zone' of time zone changes in the far northwestern corner of Arizona. (Arizona is the same time as St. George for half the year, and the same as Mesquite NV the other half. And you are not sure where the celltower is!) Imagine doing that drive at 2 a.m. on the Sunday when you 'fall back' from Daylight Savings Time!
Just a few weeks ago it was summer and I was cheering on the lengthening shadows of my trailer, inch by inch! And now, by the time I get to Mesquite NV, the sun is setting in the afternoon! My poor little dog doesn't know when she is going to get her 3:30 pm dinner. My own sleeping habits are screwed up for two weeks.
But shouldn't a backcountry camper be immune to all this artificial craziness? How do you make that experience real -- and not just rhetorical?
When the morning sun tops the nearest mountain range and spills down the alluvial fan to illuminate land some distance away from where I am camping, it makes for a great walk with my little dog: we skedaddle down to the Promised Land. When we hit sunlight we turn around, and walk back up an arroyo or gravel road. We try to walk at the same pace as the moving border between sun and cryogenic darkness.
There is something pleasing about that. You feel connected to the earth's spin. A tiny little creature, like yourself and your feet, is directly connected to something so big and cosmic. Granted, the 'music of the spheres' hits a flat note or two because of the angle of the arroyo and irregular serrations in the mountain range.
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