As far back as I can remember, I have
always had a yearning for adventure. I
recall using a stapler and newspaper to
make my first parachute. The bedroom
floor was the drop zone and my toy box
was the aircraft. Never could figure out
why the paper parachute did not open
well. Years later I realized that it had
been my first parachute malfunction.
The local librarian pushed adventure
books under my nose and I started
traveling with Kit Carson, Daniel Boone,
Davy Crocket and many other
adventurous souls. The wind was in my
face as I sailed the seven seas and the
desert sun was shining on my back, all
from a chair at the local library. I took my sense for adventure a step further when Uncle Sam gave me a
paid tour of swamps, navigation courses, and other such things. I liked the mossy fern covered mountains
and hills I encountered, but I found there was nothing like the geology of the California/Nevada desert.
There you can see the geology, the rocks, the folds, the sounds of flashfloods and all.
Never have been too good at it, but I really enjoy reading the signs left behind by those who came before
me. Rusted round or square nosed nails, hand forged hinges, flat areas where a building once stood, old
horseshoes, burro skulls, they all call to me and I enjoy figuring them out. Then I leave them for the next
person who comes along. At times, the stories I write about my findings may be slightly embellished for
"tongue in cheek" humor, but they are always based on true incidents.
Years ago, one of my desert friends gave me the moniker of "RoamnRandy," but it wasn't until much later
that it hit home in my mind. At that time, I was talking to someone as we sat in a hot spring. The person
said, "You sure roam around a lot!"
Until next time . . .R.R.