Twin Tanks, Joshua Tree, 7mi. Each desert walk is more staggeringly beautiful than the one before, and this is the last for a spell. The next one will be on another leg of this journey entirely, and I don’t know when that will be. Oh, the places I’ve been…. By design I have walked above and around the Coachella Valley, from Tramway to La Quinta, then Joshua Tree and the Mecca Hills to the Salton Sea. Through the Colorado Desert from the corners of the Mojave and Sonoran. If you are not familiar with the area, this means roughly one metric shit-ton of sweaty socks and approx. 430 dropped jaws. I have left everything where I found it, but—secretly—I’ve imprinted some permanent tracks; I have stomped on the hills with my new voltage, and charged them with the record of what’s happened here, to me. This is my story now and these mountains are just large enough to contain it. What’s happened here will have to go without saying—I don’t yet have the language—and I can think of no better way to honor this astonishing time than to declare that it is over. But, to the serrated ridges, the warm desert floor, and every thorny Ocotillo; to Sunny Dunes and Sid Walton; to fifty-nine goons at Michael’s, a dozen at Roberta’s, and especially (perplexingly) to the Junky Nephews, let me say this part clearly: I’m not leaving your Never Never Land because I want to, I’m leaving because I’m ready to. And for that you have my thanks. You fixed me good. Already I see you in my dreams. Now, onward. I have someplace to be. PSP —> SFO (one way)
Posted on: Mon, 31 Mar 2014 03:14:51 +0000