Every once in a great while, during a hike out in J Tree, I'll run across something that makes me stop and say "ay carumba," and wonder if I'm hallucinating. Such was the case recently. It was July 4th, the blazing sun seemed to stand motionless above me as I wove my way through creosote bushes and plodded through scorching Pinto Wash sand. I think I had actually found nowhere. It was incredibly hot, and at one point, I swear I heard the ghost of Matt Riley urging me to return to old Blue before it was too late. "You'll never make it to Cottonwood," he whispered.
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