After our brief Gerry'ing around the hills, we drove to Charcoal Killns up above. The place is conglomertation of these strange looking huts that didn't look all that interesting to me. Still, I did take some pictures, but somehow I didn't like them later on. (Actually, I didn't like so many of the photos I have taken at this trip that I feld depressed afterwards. Fatos; this girl I know for some time, normally helps me touch up my pictures. But whenever I showed her a picture from this trip, she always shrugged. But for this one even she made an exception.)
Some photos have interesting stories. This one has a story, but it isn't interesting. During our brief stop in Charcoal Killns an elderly American couple approached us to talk. Now, for your information the average National Park visitors can be divided into two:
1) Elderly American Couples with their SUVs or RVs.
2) The others.
The others constitute a very low percentage of the visitors. If you want to see some elderly American couple driving SUV's National Parks are the place to go. If you want to meet Elderly American Couples, 100 miles within the radius of any National Park is where you should hang out. So us being antisocial guys from Turkey, them being Elderly American Couples driving their SUV's we had to meet. They approached us and said: "Hi", we took from there. I simply don't understand how people approach other people when they have nothing else to say. And why do I always find myself breaking my neck over inventing topics and subjects in such conversations, so that their "Hi"s don't fall flat. Let them say "Hi" and let a deafening silence follow. Let them suffer, let them drown in their shallowness. Let them hit their heads on the dashboard as they cry. But we had to ask them questions to justify their meaningless approach. That's how we asked them about the park, which they gladly answered.
Since Elderly American Couples (EAC from here after) spent their senior age in National Parks they are the real Park Rangers. In fact EACs automatically receive their honorary degrees in Park Rangerhood once they turn 60, or the sum of their ages exceed 120 (more information can be found on the official National Parks website). So the Male EAC told us some great places to visit, not knowing that I will later make fun of them here. If they had seen Jay Jay with us, who was sleeping in the car, they probably would avoid us, and call the park rangers. But they didn't. So we got our tips and cues. (You know what would be appropriate here? A cuetip.)
We went to this place called Aguireberry, a gold mine not so far away. But guess what kind of a gold mine it is? No, not velvet. An *Abandoned * gold mine. Which is close to another, yes, an abandoned town. Why do these crazy lalapeople keep investing their hopes and dreams and time in the driest, hottest piece of land? Still after our brief encounter with a small abandoned town, I imagined a gold mine would sustain a bigger ghost town which would offer more spectacles.
On our way to Aguireberry, Murat obviously tired of Jay Jay talking by his ear all the time, went back into the deep comatose sleep where he came from. (He later told me that he didn't know JJ all that well, just bumped into him couple of times here and there, but only when he was so drunk that he didn't remember what the guys is all about.)
The ghost town of Aguireberry was slightly bigger than some of the houses I have seen and just slightly better looking than South Philadelphia (which should give you an idea, since South Philadelphia is known for its flesh eating zombies. If you don't believe me, go ahead, google it.) Even when it was alive, I suspect it had any trace of townness to it. How this house complex earned "townhood" is beyond me. Chalk up another to my bropken dreams.
The place offered three spectacles: Aguireberry point, where you were supposed to see something like 20 miles radius. So I went there first. After a brief climb up a pebbled pathway I climbed to the vista point. It was scary. You don't want to see 20 miles of desolatiom while you're hanging out with a guy like Jay Jay. Below was the mine, and I didn't dare to enter it since it was where the local bats of some rare kind hibernate for the winter. Up on the hill looking down I saw, what this picture is all about. The car, lost among the bushes and other wasteland beings. My know sharpened photgraphic instincts told me to go there, which I did.
So that's the story of the photo. ...Ah wait, now I remember! While I was taking some pictures I heard some rattling noises coming inside the car. I believe there was a desert hare in the car (that or a real ghost), it moved inside the car making me jumpy and uneasy. That's almost interesting...I mean sort of. (By the way you can see the TOWN in the picture frame, but it's barely visible. And not because it is too far or anything.))
And voila! Here it is. A photo that surely needed an interesting story but didn't have any. But I believe it is beautiful, one of my best even, so that should compensate for your lost time.
Notes about the above text:
* The writer switches from Elderly American Couples to its abbreviation only so late that it looks utterly meaningless.
* The writer, is a sneaky gollumesque person who makes fun of those who try to help him. He fails to mention how happy and friendly he reacted to the EAC.
* The writer makes up silly excuses, such as this one note to use "EAC", his unsuccessful abbreviation which fell flat.
* Who the fuck is this Jay Jay person anyway?
Notes about the above notes:
* Have you noticed that the last bullet is not a note but an angry cry?