Our lunch stop, on highway 31, was Silver Lake. Population? Hum? Perhaps 50. We spent about 45 minutes lunching and stretching our legs, seeing only three people the entire time. A man in his pickup drove by and two others were talking across a fence. These little highway towns feel like ghost towns they are so quiet and deserted.
California or Bust! We arrive in California via highway 395. Our boondocking spot for the night in up Jess Canyon Road, just east of Likely. I'll let the name of this town, Likely, just sit with you for a spell.
We're parked for the night on a back road, carved out by previous campers, not a proper road at all. We're surrounded by rolling hills, with sparce snow-touched mountains in the backdrop. We overlook Mudd lake. It is cold, 29 degrees, but we're warm inside Thistle. The sun is just beginning to warm the land and melt the frost. We know when we step out of Thistle's warm cocoon it will be hat and gloves time until about 9:00, with the 60 degree weather not settling in until a bit later.
The sky really is this blue...
On the road again
"Like a band of gypsies we go down the highway
We're the best of friends
Insisting that the world keep turning our way and our way"
- Willie Nelson
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