West Yellowstone, MT - Moab, UT
Leaving the forest for the desert is a feeling that has stuck with me since Mexico.
It's like jumping between the hot tub and the cold pool in the dead of winter.
The trees shrink and then disappear before you realize, the moisture leaves the air, and all the colors fade to brown.
I take a better backlit photo of a non-volcanic hill, and thank "Imaginary Geoff" for letting me sort through my mess.
Desert people are like none other.
I pass a series of hand-made signs for "Jerky", "It's Real Good", "On the Left".
Wrong side of the road.
Maybe next time.
We are stopping in Moab, so I'm not in a hurry. But I would rather keep taking pictures.
Plus, childhood memories of Cannonball Run Road Trips to Pennsylvania have deep roots in my psyche.
You don't stop to pee unless you need gasoline.
And you certainly don't go over to the wrong side of the road. For anything.
Make those mistakes with 26 hours of driving and three children under 3... and you're fucked.
Lucky for me, the Desert People have thought of everything and they have a second stand at the other end of the valley.
Guess which side it's on.
I go with the recommendation, Elk.
After killing my second camera battery in what seems like half the time it should take, I decide it's time to pay attention.
Luck strikes twice.
It's like jumping between the hot tub and the cold pool in the dead of winter.
The trees shrink and then disappear before you realize, the moisture leaves the air, and all the colors fade to brown.
I take a better backlit photo of a non-volcanic hill, and thank "Imaginary Geoff" for letting me sort through my mess.
Desert people are like none other.
I pass a series of hand-made signs for "Jerky", "It's Real Good", "On the Left".
Wrong side of the road.
Maybe next time.
We are stopping in Moab, so I'm not in a hurry. But I would rather keep taking pictures.
Plus, childhood memories of Cannonball Run Road Trips to Pennsylvania have deep roots in my psyche.
You don't stop to pee unless you need gasoline.
And you certainly don't go over to the wrong side of the road. For anything.
Make those mistakes with 26 hours of driving and three children under 3... and you're fucked.
Lucky for me, the Desert People have thought of everything and they have a second stand at the other end of the valley.
Guess which side it's on.
I go with the recommendation, Elk.
After killing my second camera battery in what seems like half the time it should take, I decide it's time to pay attention.
Luck strikes twice.
Moab welcomes me with a display of rainbows, rain during a dust storm, and "golden hour" hues.
This is not casual conversation.
I was not surprised. I expected this.
When you expect good things, and they are given, it makes you feel justified, yet humbled.
At home. Not just within a place, but within yourself.
Humans struggle with that.
We expect too little and lower ourselves to that comfortable place, only realizing it when we peek our heads above the mess of distractions.
Or... we expect too much from the outside world and can’t reconcile why nothing’s ever good enough.
I’ve been both.
And I’m here to tell you, the desert is always waiting to set you straight.
To leave you expecting the best that reality has to offer.
It's too good to keep to myself, so out comes the backup camera.