“I wonder where they’re going,” Layne said looking up from her electronic book. A white SUV scrambled up the dirt road past our camp, the passenger waved and they disappeared skirting the piñon pines on their way up hill, and we were camped at 8,000 feet.
“This isn’t the Keys,” I said stating the obvious, “there are lots of roads in this wilderness. The car never reappeared so either they got abducted by aliens or they followed one of the many choices of dirt road through Humboldt National Forest. These hills spread for miles in all directions.
We spent two days at Connors Pass within hearing of traffic on the (say it with me…) Loneliest Road In America after I told Layne I wasn’t feeling like moving and would she mind a second night. She downloaded a new Nevada Barr National Park mystery, Firestarter and settled in to her Cliq lounge chair. Rusty dug out a small depression in the dirt and that was our day.
On a whim we stopped forward movement which is one reason why this way of traveling appeals to me. We were in a reasonable spot, no vast views as we were surrounded by trees, the same trees that threw needed shade on 95 degree afternoons, there is no body of water nearby and there can be no total silence with a highway, even if it is a lonely one a hundred yards away.
And yet it worked for us, cool nights, long afternoon naps and a happy dog patrolling the perimeter of his camp.
Soon enough we will drive east to Moab in Utah in the Mountain Time Zone and from there south to Muley Point (Google maps knows where it is) which was described to us as the prettiest camp site ever visited by Lauryn and Andrew from Canada in a Sprinter, whom we met in southern Mexico. They’ve seen quite a bit so their recommendation must count for something ¿no?
