"I'm porous with travel fever...."
Joni Mitchell, Hejira
I'm not so intrepid as to be comfortable entirely alone out here, but in Utah's wide open spaces, campgrounds now feel crowded. This photo shows my happy medium:
Friends have warned me of “the crazy people out there," but I in turn wonder about the cities where they live. Out here I've encountered only helpful, respectful sorts out to enjoy this bliss.
Yesterday I finally clambered up the slick rock I'd been eyeing. This red dome was in my sights.
I knew distances are deceiving, so I wasn't surprised that the nearer I climbed, the more the dome seemed to recede. (You can barely see it sited between the rock rises.)
Of course it's the journey that mattered, and there were many small pleasures along the way, like rusty ridges of iron oxide...
...and puzzle-piece vignettes:
Finally I'd almost topped the rise and there it was, peaking back at me. Then, at the top of this slick rock mound...
...I could see the long canyon that led right up to where I could have touched red. The dome is on the other, west side of Comb Ridge, and I'd seen its type from my Snow Flats promontory. I'd have liked to touch it. But after sitting there a bit, my better judgement prevailed and I headed back.
When I'm warned of the "crazy people out there," I sometimes reply, "Like me?"
ReplyDeleteAs for better judgment prevailing, I think I spent too much of my life invoking better judgment when actually I was afraid or stuck in a rut.