Thank God for my portable toilet...

Okay, back from my first excursion into the mojave desert. Er... interesting sort of describes it... kind of weird, kind of uncomfortable... I think if I had to describe it in one word that word would be: dirty. I've never been dirty like I was dirty in that desert.  Stephanie calls what we do "dry-camping" because there are no showers.  By the end of the 4th day I was covered so much in my own scum that I couldn't even recognize myself!  On the other hand, I can pitch a tent in less that 5 minutes, I can walk along the edge of cliffs for miles, I can poop in the desert, and (thanks to Stephanie's constant lectures) recognize and name most flowers in the mojave desert. Let me start at the beginning...


Well, the work I do is very simple.  Stephanie and I have a list of coordinates for various abandoned mines throughout the desert, given to us by the Bureau of Land Management.  We find these mines using our handheld GPS units (stupid Garmin crap, accuracy somewhere within 18 feet, wtf??). Once we're there, Stephanie takes pictures while I record different dimensions of the mine with my GPS unit.  Ahhhh different dimensions! What a wonderful idea... anyway back on topic... 


That's it. That's all we do.  I take a few points with the GPS and we move on to the next mine, the whole process takes about 10-15 minutes.  Most of our time is spent actually trying to get to the mines, so we cover about 12 a day on average.  Most of the time, we just have to climb a hill to get to the mines.  Sometimes, the mines are located on a cliff face or at the top of a dried up stream channel.  Naturally, Stephanie makes me go get the pictures of the mines on the cliffs. But I have some rock climbing experience so it's actually pretty fun!  Still, I don't know why we have to camp... all the mines are pretty much within a mile of civilization, we could just use our $29 per diem to get a room at Motel 6 for the night, but Stephanie likes to go out of her way to poop in the woods, I think she enjoys it actually.


Going to the bathroom in the wilderness is not bad, especially since I have my portable potty with me! This little three-legged tripod has a toilet seat and cover, perfect for the stingy camper like me who refuses to poop straddling a cactus.  I cringe at the thought of trying to poop without this thing, how does Stephanie do it? In fact... when does she do it!?!? I've never seen her go when we're out in the field!! This crazy lady has a bladder the size of a watermelon and apparently she doesn't have to pee like a normal person.  I'm very picky about where I pee, and when picking a camping spot, I always tell Stephanie to stop near a hill, so that I can walk over said hill and pee in peace. 


Sleeping in a tent is pretty cozy, but an air conditioning unit would be nice.  I was fine sleeping in the wilderness, until one of my friends told me a story about a camper who was mauled and eaten by a pack of coyotes. Thanks a lot by the way.  Especially since it wasn't two nights until a pack of coyotes showed up at our campsite.  Stephanie was dead asleep by then, of course!  It was dark, and I was just getting comfortable when I heard the pad of paws outside my tent.  I sat as still as I could while I listened to the pack of coyotes check out our campsite.  I could hear them poking around a bit, but they didn't cause any trouble.  It wouldn't have been a problem if I hadn't just heard a story about a girl being eaten by coyotes.  I kept thinking that if those coyotes wanted me, it wouldn't take much to rip through the thin layer of cloth standing between me and their teeth...  Anyway, they were actually pretty cute and the way they talked back and forth was equally so.


The absolute worse part of the trip, even worse than the absence of showering, was an incident that occurred while Stephanie and I were driving to one of our campsites.  Stephanie pulled our truck onto the freeway and I was just beginning to relax after a hard days work.  I felt something tickle my leg, like a hair under my jeans, but I ignored it at first... until it started moving up my pants! 
"Stephanie, er... I think there's something in my pants..." I told her.  
"Do you think I should pull over?" she asked.  I still wasn't sure if it was anything to worry about, but then whatever it was was suddenly wriggling its way further up my leg.  I quickly slammed my hand down and grabbed whatever it was through my pants and held on to it firmly with a section of my jeans.
"YES! WE NEED TO PULL OVER NOW IT'S IN MY PANTS!" I screamed like a lunatic, I had no idea what it was but the thing I was grasping definitely had some substance to it!  Stephanie swerved the truck onto the side of the freeway.  As soon as the truck had stopped I kicked open the door and leapt into the desert, still holding the thing through my pants.  As I'm running frantically out of the truck, Stephanie calls back:
"Don't hurt the poor thing!" DON'T HURT IT!?!?!? Really, Stephanie!? Like I'm going to worry about whether or not I'm hurting whatever it is inside my pants! I'm trying with all my might to squish it without letting it touch my skin, I'm squeezing it as hard as I can while trying to hold it as far away from me as possible, which isn't very far considering it's inside my pants!!!  Anyway, I continue to quickly strip on the side of the freeway.  It wasn't a crowded freeway, but there was steady traffic.  I really didn't care at the moment. I unzipped my jeans, kicked off my boots, and whipped my pants off on the side of the road.  I flipped my pants inside out to find them absolutely covered in bug guts.  And in the center of this scene of slaughter was the carcass of a recently dead 2-inch centipede: 

Um... yeah talk about ew. I named him Dead Skog for those who care to know.  I think he was more disgusting then the truck stop showers that Stephanie and I stopped at one night.  I came out feeling dirtier than when I arrived... didn't know that was possible but it was.  Anyway, it kind of sucked that I had to wear the remains of Dead Skog on the inside of my pants for a few hours because as hard as I tried, I just could not get all his guts out of my pants.  But at the truck stop shower I got most of him out.  Dead Skog still lives on in memory only now, sorry Stephanie, he was slaughtered very slowly, and in a lot of pain, inside my pants.  I have the gut spots to prove it. Well... had.  And unfortunately he will never get a proper burial because I chucked his body into the desert as far as I could.  I wonder what all the people driving down the road were thinking?