Endless Silence

I snapped these pictures a couple of weeks ago on an early, freezing cold evening.

When I realized that the sky was alive and that the sun was already beginning to set, I quickly grabbed boots and hat, coat and gloves, and called to my dog who had been napping on the floor behind the wood stove in the living room.

Knowing how quickly the sun descends on the horizon, and aware that likely I would miss the sunset, we two residents (one two legged and one four legged) of this tiny town in the middle of nowhere, rushed out of the house without even letting LC know we were leaving.

And I managed to capture a few pictures before darkness quickly descended in the desert................

The next day we had snow on the ground.

Although it has been cold, we have had little snow so far this winter (although technically winter doesn't arrive for another week).

A continual cycle of overnight snow and freezing cold temperatures, and milder days and melting snow.

The town is very quiet now.

Quiet in terms of visitors - tourists, hunters, four wheelers and more.

Not quiet in terms of the drama and discord that has been created by opposing factions recently, who continually seem to face off in argumentative and confrontational ways in this town.

Opposing factions.  In a town of 28 people.

Too much drama.  In a town of 28 people.

 LC and I refusing to get involved, refusing to take sides, refusing to even feign the remotest of interest in the hand wringing and drama of supposed adults who seemingly have no idea how to behave like adults.

Recently this tiny town has begun to feel too big.

But in truth, these people have no idea how little we care, and no idea how confrontational we are capable of becoming should we not be left alone.................

On this very cold and silent day I walked alone with Kory on the outskirts of town..................

A few days later I loaded Kory into the truck and drove through the increasing snow, so that we could walk close to Cedar Butte.

As we pulled into the large parking area at the trail head I briefly toyed with the idea of walking up onto the butte.

Within just a few minutes that idea was discounted.

I wasn't dressed warmly enough, and even though we were only 8 miles from town it felt as though it was 15 degrees colder at the base of Cedar Butte than it was in Atomic City.

It was so cold that the top of the butte was covered in frozen mist - the kind of crawling, floating, vaguely unsettling kind of mist that spoke of Stephen King novels.

As I stood by the truck for another minute I alternated glancing up to the top of the butte and the frozen mist, and down to the snow on the double track trail and the coyote tracks.

I wasn't armed.

I had been in such a rush to get out of the house, that I had walked out unarmed.

In short - a cluster of a morning.  No breakfast.  Not dressed warmly enough.  Not armed.  

Completely unprepared in that way that should usually be read as a forewarning of how your day is going to go.

Disregarding that forewarning, I decided to forge ahead and just wander the trail a short way, bushwhack across country in the snow, explore some of the snow covered lava fields and then circle my way back to the truck.

The would give me time to be alone, and give Kory time to do all the things that Kory loves to do when we come to this place.......................

It turned out to be a great walk.

A lone walk with myself, and with one eye (as ever) on my four legged companion.

A long walk on a freezing day, while wearing the wrong footwear and not enough clothing to battle the cold.

And that was OK.

A walk filled with blue sky, a dancing and prancing pup, endless tracks in the snow (that told stories of wild animals that had crossed my path before this WAS my path), and the endless world and endless emptiness and endless silence that I seem to need so often......................

Trails are like that: you're floating along in a Shakespearean Arden paradise and expect to see nymphs and flute boys, then suddenly you're struggling in a hot broiling sun of hell in dust and nettles and poison oak…just like life..............Jack Kerouac, The Dharma Burns

Easier To Move Than Stay Still

Most of the people who live in this tiny town in the middle of nowhere never venture out onto BLM land.

They stay home.

They go to town.

They stay home.

I couldn't live in Atomic City if I couldn't venture out into the vastness of the completely empty and silent landscape that waits for me in back of this little nothing community...............

For over a month the weather never varied.

October through early November the weather was completely warm and sunny, and LC and I spent all of that time single-mindedly gutting and rebuilding a camper.

We didn't get it finished.

We ran out of time, out of supplies, and out of warm weather.

One day I woke up, looked out of the front window, read the temperature on the circular gauge that is attached to the exterior wall of the house, and realized that the unseasonably warm and unseasonably sunny was gone.  Done.

The rest of the camper would have to wait until spring, and that was OK............

Suddenly it was cold.

Suddenly the monotony of summer was a thing of the past and suddenly every day was different.

Snow.  Rain.  Fog.  Frozen mist. 

The world began to constantly change, and instantly I felt re-energized.

This is my time of year.

Tourists are gone.  Hunters and four wheelers and rock hounds and other assorteds are gone for the year, and the desert is finally mine again.

Mine alone.

Mine alone except to share often with my dog and occasionally with my guy, but always mine.................

On a day that promised snow that never materialized, I loaded Kory into the Suburban.

We drove down first one gravel road, then a second, and 10 minutes after we had left the house I pulled the vehicle off the road, pulled onto a dirt trail, and pulled to a stop in the middle of the trail.

Immediately my excited dog ratcheted it up a notch and she transitioned to barely contained puppy-hysteria.

We were there.

She didn't care where "there" was.

She just knew that it meant running and playing and chasing and that was all she needed to know.................

 With my puppy already on the run I looked around me.
We had had a few bouts of light overnight snow already but it hadn't lasted long, and now that we were in early December I was ready for snow to fall and to stay.
The desert was silent and brown, the sky was completely grey, and Big Butte was partially hidden in low lying fog.
It was cold and I was alone with my dog.
It felt as though we were a thousand miles from nowhere, but in reality we were only ten minutes drive from town.
On a clearer day I would have been able to see town from where I stood.................   

There was little of consequence to see where Kory and I were now wandering.

We were in the middle of flat ground.

No trees, a few small sections of lava field but not much.

The mountains in the distance were only partially visible through the fog and clouds.

But that was alright.  I just needed to walk.  Needed to move.  

One more day in a lifetime of moving.

Kory was happily climbing up and down a large rock hill and I stood watching her for a few minutes, realizing as I often do that the sight of her pleases me.

I headed in her direction.................

An old, beat up convertible drove up to where I was standing on the sidewalk.

As it pulled to a sudden stop in front of me I looked around alarmed, found him and called him over to me.

The little white haired boy came up beside me and I instinctively and protectively pushed him behind me.

 The old man behind the wheel was dirty and unshaven and grizzled and old, and he smiled at me menacingly.

Reaching into his inside jacket pocket he pulled out a gun and wordlessly pointed it at me, smiling at the same time in a way that made me feel afraid.

I yelled at the little boy who was hiding behind me - RUN!..........

 

I opened the front door of the house and frantically called his name.

Rushing through the house I screamed his name over and over until I finally threw open a door and saw him.

Squatting down on the ground the little white haired boy was playing with a stick in a mud puddle.

When I opened the door he wordlessly looked up at me and smiled.

Trying to catch my breath and slow the pounding in my chest I smiled back at him and then opened my arms, beckoning the small child to me.

He stood and walked into my arms and I hugged him tight.

He only reached my waist, and I leaned down to stroke his cheek and to kiss him on the top of his beautiful head.

I love you Sean.

He didn't reply.

And then I woke up......................

Kory and I walked across a large field, headed towards the gravel pit.

It was cold and was slated to snow again sometime over the next 24 hours.

I watched Kory as she wandered and danced and pranced, thankful for the distraction of a happy-go-lucky dog who took such uncomplicated joy in the most uncomplicated of things...............

For the next hour me and my dog just moved through the desert.

She wandered and explored.

I mindlessly followed her, deliberately staying disengaged from the world.

Just moving.

Just moving because it was easier to move than it was to stay still.....................

The next morning we woke to light snow and frozen mist.

One more day in a continual cycle of changing days in early winter...................

The yard tool shed that LC and I built two years ago, made from all scavenged and salvaged wood.

It has small black horses on one side, and an old Big Butte Rd sign on the other side that was given to me by someone here in town about a year ago.

The trees were all covered in inch thick icicles from the frozen mist that is so common in this area through the winter.................

The deer - watchful as always - sitting and standing in the adjoining property...................

This is some weird and funky piece of yard art that LC and I made early last spring.

Winter had finally broken and the day was warm and sunny, but it was still so early in the season that nothing was growing yet.

The world was still brown and I was desperate for color.

Within a couple of days I had gone Red, White and Blue mad - repainting a milk can, painting a old wood beam into a flag pole, painting a palette flag,

And by the time I had run out of patriotic paint colors I looked at a section of old wood fence, dug out a bunch of metal circular knobs that I had been collecting for a couple of years, and put this together.

Just............something...........to add character to a character-less section of the yard...............

A dragonfly - an old chair leg body, old fan blade wings, and a piece of a plantar made the antennae............

Rock on a stick..................

An Invitation To Journey

On the way into Pass Creek a few hours before, LC and I had noticed a side road (actually a rough looking dirt and rocky double track) that looked as though it led to a canyon.

In our eagerness to explore on a beautiful fall day, we decided on the spur of the moment to check out that road and see where it led, once we were done with our wanderings in Pass Creek.

Hours later (and still about 40 miles from the house) we pulled out of Pass Creek, drove a very short distance and pulled into the turnoff.

From our vantage point by the road the double track looked as though it traveled alongside the property line of the farm adjacent to the pass, and then took a sharp right turn before heading into what looked like a steep canyon.

Tired, but curious where the road led and what we would find, we eagerly turned onto the double track and headed off into the bumpy and sometimes muddy unknown................

We should KNOW this by now.

Distances are so deceiving in the vast expanses of the west.

When we turned onto the double track we thought we would reach the hills in only a few minutes.

Thirty winding, meandering, muddy, bumpy minutes later we finally approached the hills only to realize that the road was taking us to the left and not the right as we had fully expected.

More meandering and wandering and finally we reached the entrance to the trail.

Instantly the terrain transformed from the flat, muddy and open terrain we had been traveling through, to a world filled with rugged rock hills on both sides.

The trail became very rocky...............

The trail continued to deteriorate, the hills continued to get steeper and more jagged, and after four wheeling for a couple of miles we decided that - on this day - we would call it a day.

The day had just been too long and at this point in our quiet adventure, this trail that we were now on was just more adventure than we needed.

We were both enamored with the terrain - a combination of steep and rocky hills, evergreen trees, endless rock, and views of the valley that was now far below us - and we were curious where this trail led.

But at that point we had no idea where we were headed or what we were heading into.

We'd find out another day.

It was time to go home...................

Mountains are both journey and destination. They summon us to climb their slopes, explore their canyons, and attempt their summits. The summit, despite months of preparation and toil, is never guaranteed though tastes of sweet nectar when reached. If my only goal as a teacher and mountaineer is the summit, I risk cruel failure if I do not reach the highest apex. Instead, if I accept the mountain’s invitation to journey and create meaning in each step, success is manifest in every moment............TA Loeffler