Chapter 6 ~ Page 77
It was this endless quality that intrigued me the most. Unending silence. Unbroken horizons, merging with the sky in a heat haze. Time itself was a alien thought. The desert was supreme. The desert immortal.
Man can come and litter, or make "improvements," or even, for a few years, convince himself that he has conquered the elements. There are living towns today that the desert will eventually claim as the ghost towns of tomorrow. Of all of our native North American environments, the desert will be the one to win the battle of man versus his world. This is because this endless land has time on her side to destroy all invaders.
When we first entered Antelope Valley we were surprised to find mile square sections of alfalfa fields, utilizing deep wells to grow six to seven cuttings of hay per season. But, each year these ranchers must bore down deeper into the earth, for the ground water level has been dropping 50 feet at a time. One day this resource will be exhausted and the land will become barren again.
Further on our way we came across tumble-down homesteads. Encouraged by the federal government in the 1930's many depression struck families came here to build a dream, that ended in an economic nightmare.
True, the scars still show. There are places in the Mojave where tank tracks made during World War II maneuvers look as if they were cut only yesterday. And, we came across the occasional beer can, thrown into the brush by a thoughtless dune buggy driver, that will lay forever without rusting. On the endless scale of timelessness, though, nothing really has changed. The desert will always be a desert.
Because of the deep wells we had passed the spring we were counting on for our first desert crossing camp, was dry. Fortunately we had stopped at a sheepherder's camp an hour before to ask for information, and had watered the horses from their tank truck. From here on, though, we were on our own.
The next day was unreal. Running a kaleidoscope record by my mind again to remember, I come up with bits and flashes fading in and out of a picture of a sun burning up the sky. Now I can understand how it happens that people lost in the desert can die even with a half a canteen full of water left.
Man can come and litter, or make "improvements," or even, for a few years, convince himself that he has conquered the elements. There are living towns today that the desert will eventually claim as the ghost towns of tomorrow. Of all of our native North American environments, the desert will be the one to win the battle of man versus his world. This is because this endless land has time on her side to destroy all invaders.
When we first entered Antelope Valley we were surprised to find mile square sections of alfalfa fields, utilizing deep wells to grow six to seven cuttings of hay per season. But, each year these ranchers must bore down deeper into the earth, for the ground water level has been dropping 50 feet at a time. One day this resource will be exhausted and the land will become barren again.
Further on our way we came across tumble-down homesteads. Encouraged by the federal government in the 1930's many depression struck families came here to build a dream, that ended in an economic nightmare.
True, the scars still show. There are places in the Mojave where tank tracks made during World War II maneuvers look as if they were cut only yesterday. And, we came across the occasional beer can, thrown into the brush by a thoughtless dune buggy driver, that will lay forever without rusting. On the endless scale of timelessness, though, nothing really has changed. The desert will always be a desert.
Because of the deep wells we had passed the spring we were counting on for our first desert crossing camp, was dry. Fortunately we had stopped at a sheepherder's camp an hour before to ask for information, and had watered the horses from their tank truck. From here on, though, we were on our own.
The next day was unreal. Running a kaleidoscope record by my mind again to remember, I come up with bits and flashes fading in and out of a picture of a sun burning up the sky. Now I can understand how it happens that people lost in the desert can die even with a half a canteen full of water left.
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Text and Photographs © Barry Murray 1971-2007 Mac&Murray Multimedia