More often than not, i have so many stories in my head. And somehow i don't write what i think of the best ones, or i start writing but don't really come to the point, or i don't really get across what was significant for me.
How do you do it?
So there's arroyos. I had never heard of arroyos and 11/1/10 i fell in love what them.
And if stories where water, I would let them come pelting down on me, set the desert in bloom and lead them through arroyos and let most evaporate, where only few will reach the Rio Grande and maybe a very few the Ocean.
Where as here they all freeze....
Whatever, So as we leave the city that morning, I am taught all these new words,for these new features. (it took me many days to actually learn the word arroyo)
So i remember as we crossing many of them, i am trying to look into them. Then it happens to be we camp on the White Mesa close to San Ysidro. I forgot if we camp on Tribal land, or BLM land, anyway there are cows, but no fences that i can remember.
When we arrive i soon go for a long walk, towards those white hoodoos, This land is beautifully open, you know i have no fear anyway, but the openness makes me feel totally comfortable. Above here as you might already see, in the above post are some pictures of that walk.
But these Arroyos! The dry creek beds of the run-off when it does rain here (in all those 6 weeks i have actually felt one drop.)
They are path ways through the desert, the rocks. Here they are winding sandy paths,
with sandy canyons, lined with trees and plants, deep shadows, the bright sun above me, here and there wet sand, lots of animal tracks.
Everywhere i went this holiday i would explore the arroyos to some extent, but there is a deep longing in me for more, to walk there paths from where ever i am till i come to the sea.