We hiked up the east trail to keep in the shade... while it lasted. 105 degree heat (but "it's a dry heat" they say... whatever that means. Still feels like sitting in a oven...) yet the stream that ran down through the canyon from the snow melt on the mountain tops was cold and refreshing. Vegetation sprung from it's banks, a strip of oasis in the desert.
Brett is Larry and Helene's youngest, Dalonna's cousin, Kacee's uncle among many other things. He loves the desert and stopped often along the trail to marvel at the rocks, the lizards, the hardy plants thriving in this harsh environment.
The waterfall at the head of the canyon was a welcomed sight and we waded right in. I swam around the pool and felt the force of the water crashing on my head from 60 feet up. The water was cold, but nothing compared to swimming in the Atlantic in Maine. Along the back wall, behind the waterfall, were beautiful white quartz striations polished smooth within the basalt, a piece of Nature's graffiti, more beautiful than any piece of art we viewed the other night at the Palm Springs Art Museum. Awesome.
Always thinking ahead, Brett had packed a cooler with ice and beer back at the truck. Never tasted so good. Gotta love it.
As the 1970's group 'America' sang;
"I've been through the desert on a horse with no name
It felt good to be out of the rain
In the desert you can remember your name
'Cause there ain't no one for to give you no pain."
Never did understand those lyrics, but I guess they're true.
There's no rain.
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