Rides, ramblings and rants on a motorcycle.
- We are scientists, too!
7.11.2008,9:04 PM
Feeding the Beast
I've been feeding the canyon addict inside by learning about slot canyons and marking their locations on the map. Since this year has been a wash for any major bike adventures or long trips, I'm thinking and planning ahead.
Even before the ankle break I was jostling choices of riding to Mexico or Utah canyons. 'Something' -that mysterious inexplicable pull- planted the seed and it has grown like Kudzu to capture me. Of course, the several days I spent riding in Moab area two years ago only threw fertilizer on the vines. I need more.
The slot canyons in southern Utah and northern Arizona are enticing me, pulling at me, teasing me, calling me. I can't resist. The magical mythical textures, colors, lighting, shapes tempt me. I long to stand in the middle of those slot canyons glowing with orange, yellow, red and brown Navajo sandstone and be absorbed into them. I want to place my hands upon their undulating walls and hear their ancient stories. I want to smell their inorganic earthiness and feel their hard and relenting surfaces. I want to be in the path of the sunlight as it kisses and probes their narrow openings, a pool of light on the sand under my feet as if I were the only actor on the stage of life in time.
I want to absorb them as they have captured me.
Even before the ankle break I was jostling choices of riding to Mexico or Utah canyons. 'Something' -that mysterious inexplicable pull- planted the seed and it has grown like Kudzu to capture me. Of course, the several days I spent riding in Moab area two years ago only threw fertilizer on the vines. I need more.
The slot canyons in southern Utah and northern Arizona are enticing me, pulling at me, teasing me, calling me. I can't resist. The magical mythical textures, colors, lighting, shapes tempt me. I long to stand in the middle of those slot canyons glowing with orange, yellow, red and brown Navajo sandstone and be absorbed into them. I want to place my hands upon their undulating walls and hear their ancient stories. I want to smell their inorganic earthiness and feel their hard and relenting surfaces. I want to be in the path of the sunlight as it kisses and probes their narrow openings, a pool of light on the sand under my feet as if I were the only actor on the stage of life in time.
I want to absorb them as they have captured me.
