Ten and a half miles doesn’t really describe much of today’s journey. It doesn’t hint at the pain my feet bore, the sights my eyes gazed upon or the strife that my mind endured. It merely states a distance. And even so, it doesn’t really note the bends and curves, the hills and valleys, canyons and ridges that lie within it. Ten miles is an easy enough distance to travel by foot. However, it is more than a distance. It is an experience. It equates to more than a line drawn on a map or a track on a GPS.
I lie again under the stars and moon blurred by a haze of dust stirred by a day of houling winds. Off in the distance great clouds of sand and finer materials swirl up on the great blowing currents forming what looks like an approaching storm. The next mountain range to the west is imperceivable through the white mass. I wish to continue writing but am gather up by sleep and ache. I can almost feel the pack as if it remains on back even here in my sleeping bag. Moonlight casts shadows under the yucca and the bugs stir in the lee of small ridges.
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