I arrive at the old corral below Butcher Knife Canyon at around 20h45, hungry and exhausted. I can't figure out where to set up camp because goathead thorns and rabbit droppings seem to be everywhere. It feels like people rarely come here. My tires and shoes get encrusted with the thorns, yet I amazingly don't get a flat tire. Maybe it's time to sing the praises of my self-healing "slime"-filled bicycle tubes.
The tent keeps trying to blow away while I set it up because there's so much wind up here. It takes me a while to get settled and I eventually prepare a pouch of Backpacker's Pantry "Chicken Cashew Curry," which is rather dull, but I'm hungry enough that I don't care.
The wind is warm tonight, so I don't need to wear clothing in my sleeping bag to stay warm, for a change. In addition to the noise of the wind, and the occasional distant rumble of a freight train wafting up from the valley below, I hear a few crickets singing and a few moths flitting against the outside of my tent. Sometimes these noises calm down and all becomes incredibly quiet for a moment or two until the wind picks up again.
It's very satisfying to have reached a somewhat remote destination that I thought I may not attain. My only problem may be water, since I drank six litres of my supply on the way here. I'll take inventory of that tomorrow.
I fall asleep so easily, looking forward to waking up here in the morning to see what this place looks like by day.