Ran up the Hualapai Mountain Road this evening, all the way to where the oaks quit and the pines start. Twenty degrees cooler at the top than it was in town, and the whole valley laid out flat and brown behind me with the shadow of the range crawling across it. Sat up past the campground until the light went orange and a pair of mule deer walked across the road below me like they had somewhere to be. Coming back down in the dark with the headlamp picking those switchbacks out one at a time is the best twenty minutes on that road. Kingman was still holding the day's heat when I got in, the way it always does.