Mindless Ramblings

I'd never seen anything quite as dark as the desert on a rainy night. As we drove deeper and deeper in to the San Rafael I could only imagine what lay beyond the glow of the headlights. It wasn't raining now, but it had been just a few hours before. The world was still dark and moonless with a blanket of clouds blocking any light that might have come from the night sky.

We weren't exactly sure where we were going. The trip had been hastily put together in a matter of hours with only the aid of a guide book and a general knowledge of the area. This was a new part of the Swell to both of us. We curiously leaned forward over the dash of the truck attempting to distinguish a skyline or some topographic feature. There was nothing. Cautiously we made our way down the trail using the guidebook with the odometer and what we could make out from the glare of headlights on the muddy track.

It was getting late when we arrived at what we believed to be the end of the road. We went back over the directions, "...from the cattle grate 7.2 miles take the right fork. At 8.6 miles pass an abandoned car..." and so on. We were there. We weren't exactly sure where "there" was, but we were tired and in the blackness as it began to rain again, any level spot was as good as the next.

There was a comfortable, almost cozy, feeling in the thick cover of darkness. Moving around and stowing things in the cramped bed of the truck with only the narrow beam of a flashlight, I couldn't help but feel like I was back in my parents basement making forts out of couch cushions and quilts over card tables. We made ourselves comfortable on 3" foam pads stuffed between the wheel wells and fell asleep to the sound of raindrops on the roof of the camper shell.

We had no plan or agenda for the morning. The sole purpose of the trip was to just get away and "get lost" for a day. We had done it. With no schedule to keep and no objective to gain, I allowed myself to sleep as late as the daylight would allow. I reluctantly pulled myself from beneath the weight of my sleeping bag and opened the tailgate and shell. My friend Troy, who obviously has not developed a talent or an appreciation for sleeping late, had already gotten up and taken the dog for a walk. I hadn't even noticed when he left. Still not awake I sat on the tailgate and stared at my feet as they swung slowly making small circles in the air. A cold breeze came from the North and swept across me like a wave. I was awake now; the wind cut through my cotton shirt like a cold shower washing away any of the lingering warmth from my bed. I put on my shoes, pulled a fleece over my head, and hopped down from the tailgate.

I made it about thirty steps from the truck before I became aware of my surroundings. The cover of darkness the night before had made the world feel small, as though there was nothing more to it than what could be seen from the cab of the truck. Now in the light of day I was overwhelmed by the enormity of the landscape. To the North from where we had come was a seemingly endless sea of rust colored sandstone waves rolling to the horizon. The road we had taken wandered in and out of view until it finally disappeared in the surf. To the East and West were 300’ sandstone walls striped red, orange, white, and black. To the South the high walls narrowed in to a thin crack of a canyon which gradually faded in to a dark maze.

I stepped over toward the remains of an old miner’s cabin, and stood there for a while watching spotlights of sunbeams through the clouds move across the landscape. For a brief moment one of the beams crossed our campsite and warmed me just enough to notice the cold breeze again. I shuddered slightly and stuffed my hands deeper in to my pockets. The slight wind swept away any trace of sound and any voices or calls from the dog were gone before they could disturb my morning. I don’t know of a time when I have ever felt so much privacy and isolation in such an enormous place. I knew Troy couldn’t be far, but since he had gone before I woke up I was left with a mysterious feeling of solitude. I would pause for a moment while looking around and find myself staring at nothing. A slight twitch back to reality would only set me staring again in another direction. Never in my life have I been so aware of my surroundings as I was at that moment.

It was one of those moments of clarity that are usually had only by prophets and scientists. A moment when thoughts are such complete and overwhelming realizations that you can't imagine ever not knowing what it is you have just discovered. I believe it is called an epiphany. It can only be described as sublime. I have no idea what it is that I realized at that moment or what, if anything, I learned. Maybe it was an understanding that all things are connected, an appreciation of God's creation, a deeper connection with mother earth, or a higher level of communication with the earth’s creator. I don't know, but I know I know it.