Buzzing along in 117F Baja temps and in a road trance heading into the darkest storm clouds you’ve even seen… listening to Hank Williams Sr. on your headphones and floating along the scorching blacktop… wondering why THIS isn’t the music they play in church? Or, in any sacred place for that matter. So real… So honest.
I can’t tell you just how incredibly ethereal the desert smells in the Northern baja just after a rain in July. I really wish I could find the words to describe that heavenly fragrance.
The closest I can come to it is… imagine if the Mother of God were to be primping her holy self for a night at the opera… the perfume she’d wear might smell very similar to that intoxicating fragrance that rises from a freshly showered Northern Baja desert.
Image for this entry “HERE”:
“Juan is the Loneliest Number” ~ Northern Baja, Mexico © Skip Hunt
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