Hiking, web development, best practices, and general awesomeness
Looming on the horizon, a bulking shadow against dark sky, Weaver's Needle beckoned to me from Fremont Saddle. I shivered in the cold air and pulled my worn cotton sweater, damp with sweat, around me in protection, as if the thin, torn fabric would keep me safe from the imagined dangers hiding…
Peralta Road was in rough shape, with huge rocks, loose sand, and deep ruts at every wash crossing. It was obvious that a major storm had dumped some water here, though I couldn't think of when. Seems like it's been dry out here for a long time. Maybe that little sprinkle we got in Gilbert last week…