Brutal Wind

Sunny, but absolutely frigid

Although it was 30F when Becca and I headed to the mountain this morning, we soon got a taste of how frigid it really was--all because of a bitingly cold wind.  It was, literally, the coldest I've felt all winter so far.  After we had hiked about an eighth of a mile to where the trail forks, we took the western branch that led most directly into sunlight.  Even in the sun, though, the ambient temperature--because of the windchill--must have been in the teens.  As we headed down from the high foothills toward the low desert I could tell from Becca's body language that she had spotted something of great interest; and, indeed, she had:  I followed her gaze to a spot where a Jackrabbit came running out of the underbrush, immediately pursued by the Coyote.  Mr. Trickster didn't catch the hare, but he did stop briefly to look back at us.  He was probably cursing under his breath about his interrupted hunt for breakfast.

Shadow of the eagle (actually, Becca's shadow, mine, and a yucca's

Becca spotted The Trickster as we headed for the lower desert

Stopping to have a look at us

Down the single-track in full sunlight

On the road again

Becca sees someone on the road to the mountaintop

Leaning into it

This plant, which grows in the winter, always reminds me of a salad

Closeup of above plant, which is Canaigre, aka Wild Rhubarb

Hills just west of Tortugas

Rugged foothills of the Tortoise