This morning, as our boat slowly puttered to our survey site, I wondered what would happen if I just casually rolled out of the boat. Would they stop? Could I just spend the day floating on my back, center lake, until the putter boat headed back to the Marina? Sun out, heat out, floating sounded lovely. The boat puttered on. The moment passed.
The sides of the lake are incredibly steep and are often shale. Slip, slide, today I slid about seven feet, but it felt like 20. The scenery is beautiful; everyone might be too tired to notice. Amy saw two rattlers today, one looking poised to strike. Thankfully, it lost interest and darted down the hill.
I know I sound full of complaints. The area we are in is beautiful, but right now, and for the rest of the week, I would rather observe it from a boat. With a wide-brimmed hat. And my swim suit. And a fishing pole.
See my coworker Nate? This is what we are working with, plus 300 feet interior. Survey says.
Sometimes, you hike and hike and hike to find a wall of chemise blocking you. Hmph.
And other times you find what we fondly refer to as 'toyon prison.' Our team carries walkies, and occasionally you'll hear the desperate cry. Toyon Prison! I'm in Toyon Prison! Best way out? Invariably through the poison oak.
Here's your plant for the day: Clarkia unguiculata, elegant clarkia. Not rare, but pretty.
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