I left Prescott, heartbroken. Weeks later now and I still am. I miss my little Pugsly.

My scientific, logical mind knows that not only is my Pugsly not actually in this little wooden box, but the ashes in there are most likely a few different dogs all mixed up with hers. But my emotional mind cries, “I don’t want her to be alone! She’d be scared!”
When I am ready, I will say goodbye and release her ashes.
But I’m not there yet.

Hot springs seemed like a good, healing place to go, so I set off for Death Valley to find the elusive Saline Valley Warm Springs.

Funny things you find in the middle of nowhere.

On my way on the Saline Valley road after I’d pulled over in a rocky section to air-down my tires, a couple of nice guys in a Sprinter van stopped to see if I needed help. Turned out, they’d taken two 1960’s Triumphs on these rough back roads for an adventure. One had destroyed a clutch, so they went to get the van to rescue the bike.

Argos wasn’t terribly impressed and just wanted to get on.

Our welcoming committee at the Warm Springs upper section

This place really is an oasis.

The desert is a harsh and wondrous place.

One of the “locals” – a woman who has been coming here for at least 20 years – took me and a couple of others on a hike with our dogs to some watering holes. The dogs loved skinny dipping and zooming around on the surprisingly grassy areas.

Here is a little video of the dogs having a zoom!

Argos and I stayed at the Warm Springs for a week and during that time made a number of new friends, and worked on learning new rhythms for campering without our Pugsly.