Out here in the Wild Wild West

We drove through the canyon, a wall of rock rising up on either side. The Colorado river ran beside us. There were rapids. The highway ran past some vineyards, some orchards, ran through one small town and another small town. I turned our car off the main road and through a neighborhood and we ended at the house where my uncle and his girlfriend lived. The front lawn was rock and two miles away were mountains, red and rocky, rising to the sky.

I ran that night. I ran through the neighborhood and turned toward the rising mountains and ran toward them and very quickly ran out of breath. Darn that mountain air. I watched the sun set over the foothills towards the West and eventually, I turned around and headed back, passing cacti and Subaru's and heading toward the wall of the canyon.

I was in Western Colorado. The air was dry and hot. There are shops down town that rent bikes and launch kayaks. There are mountains and national monuments that have spires people climb, there are acres of land set aside for mountain bikes and four wheelers. It is hot during the day and cool at night.

My uncle and I went off trail tonight. We were at the Colorado National Monument and we pulled off the road. Uncle Dion had seen a hole in the rock maybe 50 feet below the top of the road and he said there was a place where we could get down there and see the canyon. Mom and Holly thought it was a bad idea. I was taking photos of the canyon and when I turned around, my uncle was gone. Holly pointed across the road to the bush and told me he'd gone "that way, over there". I traipsed over there and into the dirt and down some rocks and I heard his voice, "Hey, Barb, I found it."

Down some rocks and through this hole in the rock wall. The floor was sandy and there were shoe prints leading the way. There were gnats in the tunnel. On the other side, looking through the gap, the canyon opened up before me. It was vast, untamed and indescribable. Off to the side, the trail extended. I followed it for a while. My uncle trailed behind me, careful in his flip flops and being a little winded from the previous climb. I looked up and saw the edge of the top. There were rocks jutting out, gigantic stair steps leads up to the top. It wasn't exactly safe. It looked like it would awesome and exciting. And crazy. The rocks jutted out into thin air. I looked down at my uncle. I made up my mind in a split second and we turned and went back up to the car.

Now, in the above photo, I wasn't so careful. "Barb, climb out to that rock out there," my uncle says to me. This involved climbing over the wooden fence and following the rocks over to the right and climbing on this ridge of rock that jutted out into the canyon and then climbing on this rock that was balanced on this other rock... Mom said we were crazy. She and Holly turned back to the car. They didn't even want to watch. I got nervous once. Unfortunately (or fortunately) I did not inherit my mothers fear of heights and I like a good challenge. Obviously. 

I chatted with my uncle some. He was telling me about when he moved out here. He'd missed his family. He'd been lonely. It took some time to get plugged in. I'm sure it always takes time when you move somewhere far from home...

Yeah. I guess those thoughts have been going through my mind...