This recent image of the Nevada desert is one of my husband’s favorites. The road in the foreground wanders into the foothills of the Humboldt Range to Star City, a former mining community and now a ghost town listed on the Nevada registry of landmarks. A couple of months ago when we stood here, we were awed by the view and the daunting prospect of entering those mountains. Continue reading
When I read stories about people getting lost in the desert, I begin with two assumptions. The first is that the traveler did something wrong that resulted in him getting lost; the second is that he did something right if he lived to tell the tale. The second assumption is generous because lots of people who get lost in the desert are found only after arduous searches. Still, the adventurer gets credit for telling someone who would notice him missing, where he was going and when he intended to return. Leaving an itinerary with a responsible party is a preeminent rule of desert survival. Mine is often a scrawled note that I tuck under one of the windshield wipers of our neighbor’s Chevy pick-up right before we depart on a Nevada desert journey.