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The trails wander into the hills. The hills reveal
shape and rhythm; a singular life pulse to choking dust; a suspension of the hours. He expects revelation. He
expects the earth to devour him. An ancient plain or a
IMG SRC="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v463/mnaz/
blackrock10.jpg" width="250" align="left"> jumpoff
stretched over rare tint. Midwinter solar bliss or midsummer theater of hell, and every path between. His road always leads back. The great circle-- earth meets sky-- is unfettered here. Light and silence are not the only rewards. You can pick up the earth's unmasked sculpture at any point. Trails deftly thread endless fashionings of high and low; gentle rise and fall or glorious chaotic form; a full-scale radiant relief map. Exhibits of the planet's shape are unsurpassed in the desert.
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