Yesterday I went with two friends into the Floridas, entering at the 24 mile marker on Highway 11. It's called B016, Camino Doce. The road gets worse as you go farther towards the mountains; where it forks, and the left fork has a cattle guard, bear right. There will be a gate eventually; be sure to close it behind you. When you're in sight of the ruins of an old ranch house, the road is impassable unless you have a decent off-road vehicle. There are a few forks in the zig-zag road that takes you through the saddle. We bore left at the first, and right (straight) at the second. We passed a mine shaft, a small excavation into sandstone where one or two people could huddle through a storm, and, at the top of the saddle, a nice cabin with three cots, a fireplace, and various scattered pieces of furniture. Someone named Weast had just carved eir name into the doorway a few days before.
Today took the bus back to Deming for some more porter. The Shiner Bock and Widmer Hefeweizen they have at the San Jose Market in Columbus ain't bad, but I prefer Black Hook and Kona Pipeline.
Wind is wicked today, gusting to 50 or 60 MPH. My batteries are liking it, but they're about the only things that do.
last updated 2009-03-28 17:03:00. served from tektonic.jcomeau.com