Disaster! Almost. Well, sort of. Okay, a comedy of errors. We looked high and low, in and out, up and down, around and around for my camera and could not find it. Conclusion? Thief. Raven or human? Bulky in a black case, the camera seemed an unlikely choice for the avian pranksters lurking about. But a human thief seemed unlikely, too. Whatever. The camera was gone. Depressed and angry, I went about packing and tried to shake it off. What else could we do?
The morning warmed nicely, and we set off for Furnace Creek, about 25 miles away. Much of the way is flat and rolling, so we could build up a comfortable head of steam, Django sitting pretty. For miles we flew along on pavement of supernatural smoothness--pavement of the gods!.
We ate lunch on the shore of Lake Manly, long drained of its prehistoric wetness. Arriving at Furnace Creek early in the afternoon, we hit the P.O. to get our drop shipment of supplies--depressingly heavy. Oh well. We live to suffer.
In camp--the generator-free zone of Texas Springs--we found our spot up against a shaggy tamarisk, also called "salt cedar" (taste the needles), and began off-loading all the gear. As Jodi talked to another camper, I pitched the tent, and there, hanging somehow from a cord, was the "stolen" camera. We had found the perp, and he was us. With huge relief I spent the next 30 minutes ribbing Jodi about how well she'd checked the tent before packing it. The point-and-shoot had somehow been absorbed into the folds of the tent even as she stuffed it into the sack.
A happy, dark, chilly dinner at the picnic table consisted of too-expensive salmon and salad from the cafe. John, a hiker/camper across the road, allowed me to use his car to go pick it up, saving me a trip on the trike. Thanks, John.
Miles: 28; Total: 111
Climb: 700 ft.