The sun has just risen over the rim of the desert. The moon hangs over the dry, treeless mountains. It’s chilly. I hunker down in my windbreaker. It’s deathly quiet, except for the occasional far away rumble of an aircraft engine, wafting over the desert like distant thunder.
The soil is chalky white, populated only by low scrubs, chamisa, sage, and a few hearty clumps of grass. I’m at inner pylon 2, perhaps the loneliest spot on the planet, but a front row seat for the action to come. [Read more…]