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muckefuckCan someone explain to me how I can spend four days in the Mojave desert and come back with a head cold?
Everyone kept apologising for the unseasonably hot and humid out there (one priest accused the visiting Samoan contingent of bringing "island weather" with them). I kept having to explain how much of a relief highs in the 80s with 50% humidity were from Chicago. Moreover, I learned to hike in Missouri. Once you've walked twenty miles during the dog days of a St. Louis summer, not even the Mojave seems unbearable.
My biggest problem, in fact, is that the weather never feels as hot as it is. The dryness spoofs my senses and too often I end up not drinking as much water as I should. In Antelope Valley, there were also a dearth of shade, joshua trees and junipers being the only large plants over most of the area, and a surfeit of still air. I can survive the beastliest weather as long as there's a good stiff breeze--and why wouldn't a barren plateau be windy? Until the thunderstorms hit, though, there wasn't enough wind to turn over a tumbleweed, much less send it scuttling.
Unfortunately, I missed the skinny dipping trip. The Great Goddess and her baby-faced monks, the Reverend Beebe and His Lordship, stripped down at a swimming hole in the Devils' Punch Bowl (and had the frightening sunburns to prove it). When Boon, Mater, and I walked that trail, Pater and![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
monshu were waiting for us back at the parking lot, so there wasn't time to frolic in the creek (not that I can really imagine Mater stripping down to her knickers in our presence anyway).
Everyone kept apologising for the unseasonably hot and humid out there (one priest accused the visiting Samoan contingent of bringing "island weather" with them). I kept having to explain how much of a relief highs in the 80s with 50% humidity were from Chicago. Moreover, I learned to hike in Missouri. Once you've walked twenty miles during the dog days of a St. Louis summer, not even the Mojave seems unbearable.
My biggest problem, in fact, is that the weather never feels as hot as it is. The dryness spoofs my senses and too often I end up not drinking as much water as I should. In Antelope Valley, there were also a dearth of shade, joshua trees and junipers being the only large plants over most of the area, and a surfeit of still air. I can survive the beastliest weather as long as there's a good stiff breeze--and why wouldn't a barren plateau be windy? Until the thunderstorms hit, though, there wasn't enough wind to turn over a tumbleweed, much less send it scuttling.
Unfortunately, I missed the skinny dipping trip. The Great Goddess and her baby-faced monks, the Reverend Beebe and His Lordship, stripped down at a swimming hole in the Devils' Punch Bowl (and had the frightening sunburns to prove it). When Boon, Mater, and I walked that trail, Pater and
monshu were waiting for us back at the parking lot, so there wasn't time to frolic in the creek (not that I can really imagine Mater stripping down to her knickers in our presence anyway).Tags: