It had been another day of driving on western roads, the kind where what looked so close up ahead was actually much farther away.
I finally quit at 5 o’clock not because I was ready to call it a day but rather because the distance to the next town was too great. Even then, it wasn’t much more than one of those “wide place in the road” communities with a sign that says: Welcome! We are glad to see you! and another sign that says: Come back again!
There was one motel. A bell on the counter summoned an elderly lady who greeted me, signed me in, and gave me the room at the end. She said that it tended to be quieter, especially during those nights when the noisy cattle trucks passed through town.
The room was plain but had all the basics. I opened my duffle, washed my face, combed my hair, then left to get something to eat at a restaurant that did a passable job with the usual sandwich, salad, and drink.
Back outside, I squinted into the light from the sun that by then was riding much lower in the sky but was still well above the horizon. Knowing it was highly unlikely I would ever be there again, I decided to get back into the car and do some exploring.
After easing onto the highway I soon saw a blacktop road heading off to the right. Impulsively I turned onto it. Although level at first, it then began taking me sharply upward and around several hills before flattening out again at a much higher and scenic elevation. At a wide place, I pulled over, parked, and got out for a closer look.
On the right side and only a few feet past the guardrail the landscape swept downward for maybe a mile before turning upward in contorted fits and starts to finally disappear into far more rugged mountains.
On the left side was the upslope that had been notched to provide enough space for the road. A couple of hundred feet up the slope was an outcrop of three rocks, each seeming to invite me to come up for a visit.
Carefully making my own path, I zig-zagged upward toward the rocks while keeping my distance from cactus plants with their long and sharp needles.
Of the three rocks, I picked the one I thought would be the most comfortable. I just sat there, nearly motionless, first looking and finally seeing the endless myriad of detail still being carved, shaped, and formed by wind, water, freezing, and thawing. As had been the case for millions of years, there was no order to any of it, just a random assortment waiting for the eye to imagine.
The sun was poised to drop below the horizon, its sharp rays of only a couple hours before now softened with dust and moisture to put a glow on the landscape. It was the kind of scene one sees in travel folders, except this wasn’t a picture. Right there and right then it was real.
Occasional gusts of wind rustled the bushes. A few birds chirped to each other as they made their final flights of the day. Some of the blossoms on a nearby small tree had already folded shut. Just as Mother Nature had always been doing, she was preparing herself for yet another night of cool and restful.
It was then that I first felt as if I had been accepted as an honored witness to the forever marriage of land and sky. Who I was meant nothing. Neither did my reason for being there.
All around me was free of any traces of urgency and worldly demands. Darkness had already begun to invade first the shadowed folds and crevasses of the nearby landscape, then the valleys and backsides of distant mountains.
With that, I leaned back on my elbows and looked upward where the slight leftover glow of the sun was being quickly replaced by a darkening sky already studded with a few bright stars. Within the hour, the horizon to horizon Milky Way would put thousands more on display.
Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes and gave thanks for all the good in the world and asked for help in facing the bad. Then and as a final gesture before leaving, I smiled my thanks to the rocks for being such good company.
None of this beauty and power to impress had thrust itself onto me. To the contrary, in logical fashion and on my own, I had cleared away the clutter of modern living to allow it to happen.
