The Wilds of Modesto

No posts for you guys for a while.   Instead of adventuring in the High Sierras, braving swollen stream crossings, 10,000 ft. plus mountain passes, hungry black bears who really dig Backpacker’s Pantry freeze-dried Vanilla Ice Cream, swarms of mosquitoes,  angry horse flies,  and more,  I took the much more dangerous path and spent the last  five days in the wilds of Modesto, Ca.

With temperatures that make the Mars exploration project feel  like an early morning stroll under shady trees, giant machines that hurtle down Highway 99 at breathtaking speeds and a shitpot load of people, it can be a very scary place.  It is essential to have congenial relatives, air conditioning and no hesitation for take out.

And the natives. Oh, the natives. Best not to surprise them whilst walking down the trail. Sing or shout or wear a bell on your daypack during your excursions in the urban jungle.

Here is a photo of the den of an extremely rare valley dweller.  After much research we believe it belongs to the homo sapien sub species  ” Camo Floggusus Unstabalis.”

Maybe though, just maybe, it is the summer cottage of George Lucas, who grew up in Modesto and secretly goes back every August to remember the good times.

George has a penchant for privacy and you can bet with his choice of exterior decor he won’t get many Jehovah Witnesses knocking on his tent poles.

Thanks for taking some LIP from me,

Bruce

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