It's not your mother's campground and one night was more than adequate, although we'd planned to stay for 2. Lot's of trash lying about, some self-propelled and humanoid in appearance but most of it inorganic. 'Tis indeed a strange brew with more than a touch of post-apocalyptic. We're not sorry we stopped though, have to cater to one's sense of adventure and curiosity, after all.
To be fair, the people we chatted with, the ones who were passing through or just there for the winter, weren't strange at all. Sandi (see below) was okay, too. Most of the folks we assumed to be permanent residents, however, were decidedly lacking in visual appeal and basic social skills - like responding to smiles and a friendly 'Hi' from Trish and I as we strolled around. Stoned? Mentally challenged? Possessed by non-verbal alien life forms? Several bricks short of a full load? Hard to tell, probably a mixed bag of the above. Or, maybe they're mostly normal, unresponsive only because they're tired of being considered the main stars in the ongoing freak show.
Artist and sophisticate in residence, Sandi. Trish bought 3 of her finer pieces.
The Range has live music on Saturday nights. There's lots of comfy seating - if you're into getting goosed with bare rusty springs sticking out of 30-year old bus seats and (un)stuffed furniture.
Main entrance to the Range, no bull.
Salvation Mountain.
Gotta LOVE it!
Once a pickup, now..........?
Whatever.
A parting shot of Salvation Mt.
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