A very impromptu headlong dash into the boonies late this afternoon provides the images for the latest FotoFeed series. I took this shot on the way back to show you what it looks like where I started from — if you could turn 180 degrees from this view, you’d be looking at rugged tree-covered mountains. Since I was a couple of days behind on the FotoFeed updates, I’ve backdated a bit, so the first page is here. (The current header rollover images are also from the hike.)

Lobo Peak to the north

Where I was headed was a small side canyon I’d always wanted to explore — I knew that if I followed the arroyo all the way up, I’d eventually come to the top of the ridge and have a view out over the other side of the mountain. Couldn’t quite go that far today, started too late. But going there today was just the kind of total change I needed, and I know I’m goddamn lucky to be able to do this! The spot where I stood to take this picture is less than 15 minutes driving & walking from our house.

No one around, not another soul. Higher and higher, no human tracks except my own. There were long stretches of perfectly smooth sand in the dry stream bed, damp in places; big ponderosa pines growing straight out of the rocks; amazing, beautiful layers of igneous rock, white, pink, red, and purple; and above all, silence. Well, not 100%. There were many bird calls, raven squawks up near the top, wind in the pines, that sort of thing — and on the way down I heard a crash of rocks and dirt back from where I’d just walked through…

This is my favorite kind of hiking, heading off where there isn’t a trail. It’s really more like exploring, with the sense of discovery heightened by the fact that I’m all alone. I suppose that’s dangerous, but what I’m up to on these expeditions requires solitude. Sure, it would be easy to get banged up pretty badly out there. That’s just it, though: having to consciously place each step cranks up my awareness in a way that’s deeply satisfying. It grounds me, for one thing. And even more, to move without a path, I have to pay attention, be patient and respectful, and let the landscape guide me.

And you know what? “Guide” is exactly right. It’s as if the rocks and trees and sand respond to that kind of acceptance. Can you imagine what it might be like, everywhere, if we just did this?