Read about the first part of our adventure here
We woke up Saturday morning to this:
Sweeping around us to the north, east and southeast was a ravine full of a variety of healthy, happy desert plants and a small dry stream in the bottom. A little further off were layers of rough rolling hills. A choppy sea of rock exposing a glimpse here and there of trails. It was both an invitation and a challenge. Further to the east, tearing a jagged edge in the orchestral swell of light that threatened a sunrise was the outline of Four Peaks. The thousand foot stone pillar vestige of a mesa called Weaver’s Needle stood stoically between us and the tropics.
Rachel and I woke first and went to explore nearby ruins. We discovered holding pens, a large metal water tank decorated with various graffiti and a loading ramp whose wood walls could no longer contain the wedge of earth that would allow cattle to be driven in and out of the backs of trucks. We took a few minutes to enjoy the coolest air we’d experience on our trip and the privacy afforded by the early hour and location.
Upon returning to camp, Rachel and I set about documenting the view. Phone cameras only perform so well in low light but the best camera is the one you have with you.
Cody and Landon awakened to join us in appreciating how fortunate we were in selecting our spot the night before. We had breakfast, dressed for the day and packed up our camp as the sun rose.
We trotted down a short trail with our eyes keen for lizards and other small creatures enjoying the morning sun. The trail terminated sooner than we’d expected so we decided it was as good a time as any to climb in the Jeep and head to the lake. It was already sufficiently warm to appreciate the air conditioning. We guessed the way back as it looked very different in the light and in reverse but managed to make it onto a tall ridge heading towards the lake that suggested a decent photo opportunity.
We made it to a secluded cove on the lake after dropping down into a wash from off the ridge. Landon gave us frisbee catching pointers while we tossed the disc around and enjoyed the sun. The advice didn’t prevent the occasional planting of the frisbee in the thorniest bush on the beach though. Stones were soon being skipped across the surface of the water. Contests of furthest skips, most skips, largest stone skipped and shortest skips were invented. The adjudication was lax and score keeping non-existent. Having not more than wet our palms in the green water at that location we decided to head to a spot we could jump off cliffs into the lake. We loaded up and made our way back through the wash.