Yesterday I took another hike into the Painted Desert and this time did not get lost coming out, thank you very much. Luckily for me, someone had ridden a horse down the trail and the hoofprints, not to mention other mementos, left as big a trail of breadcrumbs as I could hope for. Also I paid attention this time, which believe it or not makes a difference.
I wandered all over, keeping an eye on the clouds that were coming and going; monsoon season isn't over yet.
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| The darkish spots near the horizon did not look good. |
The other times I've been in the desert I've gone to the northeast, but added a side trip in the opposite direction yesterday, when the clouds stopped looking at all threatening. The side trip took me to a section of Lithodendron Wash, a superhighway of a mostly dry wash that meanders all over the place:
The wash was dry when I dropped down into it, but a short way farther
on there was lots of evidence that water had recently gone through,
and in fact was still standing in places.
What a beautiful thing mud can be. Not so much if you have to clean it up, but it makes unique patterns that are fascinating to look at when it's outside where it belongs.
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| I saw this and immediately thought it wouldn't have taken some Puebloan person long to figure out that this could somehow be useful. Maybe add a little fire? |
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| The echoing shapes are lovely. |
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| The wet shine adds a depth all its own. |
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| Lots and lots of texture - giant footprints headed off into the distance. |
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| If you've ever made chocolate shavings you'll see the similarity right away. |
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| Isn't this interesting, the way the cracks act as a resist to the water? |
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| Little oases are just now drying out. |
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| Ripples and stripes highlighted by mineral deposits. |
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| Ribs coming off a spine? Could be. |
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| Looks like tiger stripes to me. |
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| Here's another cat, a real one. What a find! |
It was a great day to hike, the desert is always interesting, but that climb out is still a killer. Four times now and it's not getting any easier.
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Thought of the day:
This world is but a canvas to our imagination. (Henry David Thoreau)
