Supposedly, the pickup truck above was once ‘owned’ by Charles Manson, the cult leader in the late 60’s that was convicted of a number of murders. It sits in Ballarat, a small private holding within Death Valley National Park. Ballarat has a population of one.
Below is a building that is in Ballarat. If you want to call it a building. I thought it made a nice jumble, though.
I was going through old photos and found this one from back in ’72 or so. My friend was just playing his guitar in the park and enjoying the sun. The mounted patrol came by to make sure we weren’t smoking any illegal herbs. Why would he think that? He didn’t bother us, though.
Back in the ’60’s, one of my first long hikes was an attempted crossing of the Cascades using some ‘high routes’. A friend and I were going with just the two of us and (looking back on it) overly optimistic plans. The weather didn’t cooperate: we ended up getting snowed on for a day or so after the third day or so. Perhaps we were lucky that we decided to bail. The weather remained stormy for several days (it was mid-August and a cold front blew in). We hiked to the nearest road, hitched a ride into the nearest bus line. It was still an adventure … and probably safer than if we had continued. It would have been a rugged go, and I’m not sure we would have been able to keep up our schedule … even if we found the right track … since we were following ‘high routes’ for a lot of the time, we weren’t using trails. So route finding would have slowed us down … probably more than we expected.
That’s my pack and ice ax just after we departed Lucerne (Washington) a SMALL town along Lake Chelan that is boat only access. This is my only photo of the trip. Taken with a Kodak Instamatic, I believe. One of my earliest remaining images.
“Old trucks never die, they just go to sleep.” A young friend (a mechanically inclined young man) told me that once when I referred to an old truck as “dead”. It’s good to remember.
No, not an insult (used in Game of Thrones, once or twice) … this guy was nice enough to stand still while looking at me. There was a fence between us … but he was still hoping that I would share a treat.
I obeyed the sign and didn’t offer anything.
This was taken at one of the small farms along the Larry Scott Trail south of Port Townsend, WA.