The Harshness of the Desert

A desert is a harsh, desperate environment. It's spiky and barbed, armored in defenses to preserve the little resources it has from being taken. Here, it gets to be 118 in the summer, sometimes. They say it's a dry heat, but so is a kiln. At 118, your head feels like it's going to explode.

That isn't exactly a condusive atmosphere for peace. It might be condusive for a shamanistic near-death experience if you don't know what you're doing, in particular.

Most people never go into the raw desert. By the raw desert, I mean the desert that nobody wants. It's basically my desert, because of that. I never see anybody and nobody sees me. So, in that way, it is peace and quiet I suppose.

It is more of a shamanistic environment in the old-world sense where you test your body to the utmost, and that might lead you to a very different experience.

In the winter, it's very pleasant, though. However, it can get very cold around sunrise in the winter. (Very cold meaning 40 degrees)

Nobody has no trespassing signs anywhere, because who wants it. You can camp anywhere, because nobody cares. People never post things they don't care about.

Believe me, not many people come to a desert to relax.

That all said, if you bring plenty of water with you and drink it constantly, it can be an amazing experience. I particularly like communing with ancient cultures by living right in their old campsites.

Today, I found a mano. Probably hasn't been seen for over 1000 years. Wasn't anything special, just an oval that was flattened on one side... pecked on the ends. There was not even one pottery sherd or lithic associated with it. However, I had found a half-stone donut quite nearby (100 yards away) about a half year ago. It had started to be pecked through on both sides, but they must have broken it in two before they finished.

Stone donuts were used to scrape the corn kernels off the cobs, so it was probably a planting site. So, it wasn't surprising finding a mano.