More West of Eureka, Nevada
Back
to the Desert
The boys picked me up at Arrivals in the
Las Vegas Airport to proceed from the spot where I left-off last Friday. The five hour drive was pleasant. There are few-and-far-between towns, all of
which as you enter have their welcome sign indicating the town’s elevation
rather than population. I guess the
figures are too modest.
Reception is very poor. I can’t call anyone successfully, even once I
commenced walking. That’s not unnecessarily
a bad thing. I just have to be very much
in the present.
While I was still in the vicinity of Las
Vegas I managed to get through to Anna, a godsister from Stagecoach,
Nevada. A funny thing she said in an
opening line was, “In my neck of the woods—oops—of the desert.…”
Yes, we are in the desert. The boys enjoyed their stay in Vegas. No, they did not get into the slot
machines. They are monks. They did, however, enthusiastically jump into
kirtan, chanting and drumming, along
with local devotees down the strip at night.
The response was phenomenal. Of
course everyone is in the party mode.
Now, back to Highway 50 and more west of
Eureka—crickets are alive and well rehearsed.
I like their show. It beats
Vegas! Also as the scene removed itself
from sight, the coyotes did their routine.
It always makes my hair stand on end, especially being out here alone.
So, Bugsy Siegel, I admit your Vegas is not
a thriller for me. I prefer the desert.
May the Source be with you!
7 mi
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