I’ve done my best to verbally convey my first impressions of real desert. I suppose, if you found me in the same environs in mid-August trying to re-shoe the donkey, I might have a different perspective. Would it be be my soul for a Popsicle and how’s the weather in the Gulf Islands?
I spent an interesting few hours in a place called Randsburg, well up in the Mojave Desert. It is inundated with off-road motor-heads who love noise, dust and the wild abandon of ripping up the desert. However, their dollars keep the old mining town alive and for me the place was a fantastic photo opportunity. I could spend days there as the light changed and new colours and textures are revealed. This blog will be a simple photo essay from one afternoon in Randsburg and the area nearby.. I hope you like it. The photos selected were a tough choice. First impressions are often lasting impressions so I have taken some artistic liberty with a few shots. There’s nothing wrong with your computer.
The pause that refreshes
When a tree falls in the desert…
That old tiny feeling
A kindling bush, well that’s what I call it.
Boom and bust
Complete with optional donkey hitch
Honest Pedro’s Used RVs and Trucks
Moved, address unknown
The mailman always shots twice
I always wondered where this guy lived, the note under the rock describes a lost dog
There’s always one!
At the Corner of See More and Do Less
Eat Here and Get Gas
After almost hitting an elephant on a road in Mexico, I’ll believe anything.
Putting up a front
I’ll have two floozies with a side of fries
If we ain’t got it, you don’t need it
Never driven on pavement
A beautiful little beast
A doom…I mean dune buggy, with compulsory trophy chick
Zoom, zoom baby!
Old VW’s never die
Getting away from it all
A picture’s worth a thousand words
Doobees are us
In the desert I sailed a boat with no name
How do you play these things?
My kind of lawns
A truly civilized community provides public washrooms in the town center
Pit Prop Presbyterian
Once, someone shut off the ignition and stepped out of this car for the last time
He was in the pink
Slivers and old nails
The old man remembered growing up in a small house at the edge of town