Mojave camping

To camp a night on the Mojave desert, sleeping under ten billion stars. That idea came to me and it seemed reasonable. Quiet, no one around. Don't need a tent. Out in the open. Sand to sleep on, soft ... well, firm. I'm sure it's well packed, not like beach sand, but sleeping on it would be like that. I packed light for one night, took a blanket to wrap up in and a windbreaker in case it got cool. That could happen. I didn't take any type of rain protection, I knew that was out of the question. Being an Ohio boy and only a few years in California what I actually knew about the desert was limited to what I'd seen in cowboy movies. And when I first came out to California I drove through a blowing sand storm near Palm Springs. That pitted my windshield so much I had to get a new one. That sums up what I knew about deserts.

Getting ready I put on comfortable, loose, sleep-in clothes. I Wasn't even going to make a fire. So it'd be quick and easy. I Drove out Friday evening from the valley in LA. Took about an hour to get to the town of Mojave. Stopped at Wendy's to gas up: double cheese burger, fries and a shake. That done, I got gas for the car.
The preparation was easy. I knew there was plenty of desert a little over an hour away. It meant driving out, throwing something on the ground, sleeping under the stars and c

Perfect timing, Twenty-five minutes later, out of Mojave, I got on the desert about nine with the last rays of the sun. All the time I got myself excited about the campout, just thinking about it. Drove anticipating the black sky away from the city. In the San Fernando Valley where I lived there wasn't a lot of lights, but this was the desert: no traffic lights or cars gong up and down the street, sirens and all that noise and lights.

A few miles out of Mojave I took pulled off on a side road. This was quiet desert. I pulled over and got out of the car. I walked twenty yards out on the desert and watched the sun going down on one side, the full moon rising on the other; I didn't count on that. Didn't want to search wood for a fire, it was getting dark. Waited. Didn't bring my guitar, nothing to do. I threw down my blanket and tried to sleep.

Two hours later, Still awake. The bright moon overhead, in my face. I couldn't see a billion stars ... I counted maybe eight. It was like sleeping under a street lamp, or worse, a spot light aimed at my head. The full moon never looked so bright. Well, I covered my face with part of the blanket, then proceeded to roll until morning. 

My attempt at desert sleeping and counting stars can be labeled a failure. I got up early, ready for breakfast at Wendy's. When packing to go, which meant putting on my shoes, I picked up my blanket to shake it out, found seven scorpions underneath. Then walking to the car I saw the sign: "beware - rattlesnakes." I got in my car and drove home, not stopping at Wendy's for breakfast.

Now I think of my camping experience as a success. Nothing bit me when I camped the long night on the great Mojave Desert.

Oh, dear darling night

as always

Jesus Criminey