Thursday, November 10
“Well, Reg, this is it. Are you ready to hike the trail?”
Of course, he’s ready! There he goes!
This morning, instead of walking the lane where we’re camped on the mesa at Poverty Flats, I drive us down Route 168 and turn onto the 3-mile, winding, washboard-y road that takes us to St. Thomas Cove. What used to be a cove of Lake Mead. These days it’s a grassy plain.
And not very picturesque . . . .
Reggie doesn’t care about that.
He’s delighted to have a new path to follow.
At least he has a better surface to walk on . . . .
A little of the history of St Thomas . . . .
“St. Thomas was founded in 1865 by Mormon settlers who mistakenly thought they were still in Utah/Arizona Territories. The location was a prime farming spot at the confluence of the Muddy and Virgin Rivers, which flowed to the Colorado River, 22 miles south. . . .”
. . . The filling of Lake Mead started in 1935. As the waters rose, slowly the town was overtaken by Lake Mead. One of the last residents to leave was Hugh Lord, who paddled away from his home when the rising waters lapped at his front door in 1938. When the lake reached its high water mark, St. Thomas was sixty feet below the surface.” — nps.gov – History of St. Thomas
An admission to my dear readers . . .
Looking at ruins is not a big interest of mine. I enjoy reading history, even watching documentaries, but the foundations of buildings that once were?
The freshness of early morning fades, replaced by increasingly warm sunshine. I have no idea how far we’ve hiked, somewhere around 1.5 miles and I’m concerned that the last portion of the trail might be a rocky climb when the heat becomes too much.
This is a time when it’s best to go with what you know . . .
“C’mon, Reggie. We’re going back . . . ”
~ ~ ~
I’m always on the lookout for subjects for my camera.
This hike doesn’t offer much in that regard. The trail takes us through areas of dead brush with very few birds.
Do you see the Perfect Tow Vehicle in the photo above?
“Well, that made for a different walk this morning. Now to bump our way outta’ here . . . .”
~ ~ ~
The Repeat Rule of Dogs:
“Whatever you do on two days at the same time of day you have to repeat at that same time of day every day henceforth.”
Before dusk Reggie and I motor into town. I want to pick up a few groceries. Reggie looks out the window of the PTV at the buildings of Overton, wagging his tail in anticipation of another romp at the park.
“Okay, okay. . . . We can go to the park before we go to the store.”
As we walk across the green grass . . . . .
“Reggie! That looks like Francesca over there!”
It sure is. I’d recognize that bark anywhere. No collar, no leash, nobody around . . . .
Reggie attempts to engage her in play.
Francesca is Not In The Mood. She runs off, barking and barking and barking . . . .
Oh dear . . . . The young man did say his parents lived nearby and he did walk Francesca to the park so their house probably isn’t far. With all the noise she’s making, surely they’ll find her.
Reg and I return to the PTV.
While pouring a drink for Reggie, a pick-up truck comes to a stop at the other side of the park. Francesca runs to the open door of the truck, tail wagging, and jumps in.
NOTE: Thank you, veterans. Happy Veterans Day!
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Flash photo taken after Reggie’s middle-of-the-night potty run