Thursday, March 8, 2012
In my vehicular tour of Death Valley, I stopped at Father Crowley Point to gaze out onto the Panamint Valley area of the park.
I'd been a little trepidatious to return to Death Valley, the precipitant of my existential crisis four years ago, where I felt so small and surrounded by...well, death.
But upon my return, invigorated by the heat, finally free from my office, I felt more alive than ever.
I was surrounded by more people this time, a bit earlier in the season, but still only a few...
And the occasional blooming creosote bush or other green plant.
And although I frequented ghost towns and invited desertion into my weekend, I found some friends along the way.
Death Valley felt vibrant, lively, shifting, evolving. The hot wind breathed on my neck. The rocks glowed. The creeks swelled. The dunes cascaded.
And I was living.
Overlooking the Badlands
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