When the radio stopped working in West Texas, I was pretty certain that the universe was testing my resolve. I mean, the desert expanses and border patrol vehicles whirling past could keep my interest for only so long. The inconvenience was soon forgotten as Big Bend National Park took my attention. Between the mountain hiking that swept my breath away—from beauty and elevation—to the Rio Grande that offered a hot spring with a view of Mexico, I was enchanted. I darted around the park like a kid in a candy store. I thought Texas was only about oil and cowboy hats—and it is that too, but not entirely. Continue reading
The Iphone says four thirty in the morning. You hear car engines start and idle in place. There’s one, now two, three and four. What gives? Is there a radical place to go watch the sunrise which does not crest for another two and a half hours? You listen, you wonder, you snuggle in a little tighter to that sleeping bag and then you decide if you don’t head to the outhouse, the outhouse is happening inside the snuggly sleeping bag.
Zip, Zip, and CRACK! What in the world?
After entering the east entrance of Yellowstone and watching my car thermostat plummet from 44 in Cody to 23 somewhere way above Yellowstone Lake, I wasn’t quite sure I was up for the next bend in the road. The bend offered up a Bison in the adjoining lane. Lumbering along he made his way as though in England, driving on the opposite side of the road. I slowed, dropped my jaw, and then cautiously preceded.