the quiet entered so gently, I didn’t even know it . . .

almost startled, I realize there is a quietness in my soul that wasn’t there when I drove in. it is a settling back into the physical world, mind centered in each moment of reality, when the thing to do next is watch the night come. or indulge in a hot solar shower. or nap. or walk, looking for ‘stuff,’ taking in more sights when there is room for them . . . my senses are by now so clogged with the wonderment of it, much like pores clogged with the fine red silt, I feel at times I can hardly breathe if I don’t close my eyes . . .

this one I took for pajarito - there’s no fire there, but the sun setting in some places, this one a crevice across from my campsite, can set the rocks on fire:


DO NOT DO THIS: this shot from a very steep, curvy, narrow winding road with a steep immediate drop-off at the edge (npi), going down from Mouse's Tank:


I have twice exhausted my camera, but it has rallied both times, with a little TLC. I’m thinking it might be time to start investigating a new model, more telescope for those critters who skitter when I get too close, a better mike, or perhaps even a portable mike, a clip-on like they wear on tv, better resolution for those shots I crop so maniacally . . . but this one is so dear to me, we’ve traveled so many miles, shared so many sights, endured so many trials - maybe when I get a new one, I can send this old one in for refurbishing and continue to use it awhile as I get used to the new one . . . keep it as a back up . . . the first day as I came into this park - I was stunned with just entering and knew I could not possibly be here without my camera . . . it is so much a part of my eyes, my experience, that I am unable to see or do without it . . .

hiding hobbit:


the Seven Sisters picnic area is where the video was shot. they are all separate formations, surely families camped here hundreds of years ago:

mornings are routine. up with coffee, looking out at the surrounding vistas to check the day, booting up the laptop, sans Internet, and turning on the satellite tv to see if the world is still out there while I begin to edit photos (11/21 will I ever catch up?) and dabble with this narrative. coffee finished, don the accoutrements for a shower trek. the solar showers are always unendingly hot and wonderful. after returning and stowing away the toilette items and dressing for the day, it’s a breakfast burrito of chorizo, egg, potato, and cheese, in a flour tortilla of course, and garnished with sour cream. something about camping gives me permission to not eat right. I enjoy eating this burrito immensely and also having the ability to store the ingredients and prepare it in my home on wheels out here in the wilderness where I’m constantly remembering the life of others long ago. it makes one truly feel godesslike. wilderness in a spot with electricity and water and satellite tv but no cell or Internet service. the longer I’m here, the more I think they have the mix right.

adjacent to my campsite are wonderful wild canyons and I like to walk there at sunset, which is around 3:30 on - I know there is wildness all around, but it feels so all right:


till next time . . .