Buckhorn Wash is really nice at this time of year. But, as anyone who has seen it lately can attest, it has been completely overrun by the motor crowd. Coming from me, I'm sure it sounds like an exaggeration, but it's not. We passed one camp of at least 14 monster campers—pop-outs and satellite dishes—along with the requisite number of motorcycles, ATVs, rhinos, and I don't know what-all. I said 14. In one camp. Every RV has a huge truck to pull it, plus another truck so the wife can pull the trailer stacked with ATVs. We were only trying to leave, but I bet we passed another 45 vehicles crowding into the canyon.
To get away from it all, EDO and I found ourselves on the trail to No Man's Mountain. We never found it. The mountain, that is. But we were on the trail for a couple of hours. We saw petrified wood, mollusk fossils, and dozens of wildflowers. We heard no motors. Good.
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