Blathr Wayne Lorentz

We went to China Ranch today. Itʼs one of those places that makes me feel calm. If I had no debts, no obligations, and no cares in the world, Iʼd try my hand at being one of the China Ranch farm workers, picking dates in the desert, living in a rusty trailer, and generally staying off of civilizationʼs radar.

Since I do have debt, obligations, and cares in the world, I relish seeing the creatures of the wilderness. The score this trip:

• Quail
• Two kinds of lizards, including a cool one with a blue beard
• Ravens
• Hawks
• Three coyotes
• Crayfish

The crayfish donʼt belong here. Like the bullfrogs that pollute the few water sources in the desert, they were planted by settlers who though they might be useful for food. Unfortunately, theyʼre the reason the entire Pahrump pupfish population has to live in a concrete fish prison out in Corn Creek.

Unlike the Amargosa dace and Devilʼs Hole fish, they didnʼt evolve in a hot spring, so in the winter they just kind of get sluggish and stop moving. Itʼs like aquatic hibernation. And since they canʼt flee, they are easy snacks for the big crayfish that were brought in from Louisiana a hundred years ago.

My wife bought me a new lens for my camera for my birthday. Seems like a good excuse to visit Death Valley again.

30° air. 105° pool. And thereʼs more minerals in the spring-fed pool than in the rocks they built the hotel with.

Worst. Hotel. Entrance. Ever. This is why I valet.

• Good: The Timbisha Shoshone indians have opened the first business on their new reservation: a taco stand.
• Bad: Iʼm the only one here.
• Worse: A taco costs ten bucks.

Minutes later, the place filled up with hungry tourists. With the white manʼs government shut down, this is about the only food available in this part of Death Valley.

When I heard that California legalized pot, I knew I couldnʼt stop Darcie.

She hates that joke.

I once suggested we frame Darcieʼs underpants and hang them on the wall. But she didnʼt like the idea until she saw it just now. I guess Darcieʼs just a late bloomer.

She hates that joke.

Darcie rocks. That is all.

In the event of a fire, proceed quickly and calmly to the emergency exit. Then run uphill over gravel for half a mile in your pajamas.

Death Valley is kind of a schist hole.

Darcie hates that joke.

You think your soccer mom Escalade is the shit? Make way for my 11-wheeled, steam-powered borax wagon!

The next stagecoach to Tonopah will be… delayed.

And thatʼs pretty much what happened.

Darcie spends a quiet evening writing postcards in the hotel library.

Evening cocktails overlooking Badwater Basin.

Elevation: -281 feet.

Weather: Overcast, with scattered fighter jets.

I shall drink rum and read a Los Angeles Times here.

♫ Iʼve got friends in low places… ♫