I’m better with my muscles than I am with my mouth
I work the landscape in the summer
And raise the dust down south
And when I feel those chilly winds
Where the weather goes I follow
Pack up my traveling things, go with the swallows
And I might get lucky now and then
Sometimes I win some
And you might get lucky now and then
Sometimes you win some.
Now I’m rambling through this country glad (mad) as a man could be
Think I’ll just lay me under this old tree
On and on we go through this world of shuffling
If you got a truffle dog you can go truffling
But I might get lucky now and then
Sometimes I win some
And you might get lucky now and then
Sometimes you win some.
(M. Knopfler)
One last journey here in Colorado before I catch my breath and direct myself south for work and winter in Austin. Beyond that is hope for continued discovery.
This journey literally nudged and shoved me to the edge of cliffs where I saw an expanse of line, color and shape, that begged for view and then expression, whether a scream of wonder and amazement, or through the potential of paint, or photo. From the encouragement of a friend, who calls me a “seeker”, I first visited the Colorado National Monument, and then later returned to Pagosa along one of the listed “scenic routes” between scenic destinations in this land of beauty.
First, the Colorado National Monument slapped my senses with a perimeter drive around the rim of mesa cliffs, overlooking from a distance the town of Grand Junction. I reached this wonder in the last two hours of the day, not near enough time to take advantage of the changes in shape and shadow as the sun descended. Still, even in the sparing moments of the daylight, the creative changes of land surface caused by the interacting elements of erosion and the varying hardness of rock, provided a gallery of natural sculptures and colorful murals that excited both sense and emotion. To be blessed to stand above, beside and above such creation only brought questions, without answers, to my worthiness and receipt of such reward. What justified my gift, what action had I taken to deserve this view, my shared presence? What scripture passage says “seek and ye shall find”? For, me, the only thing it seems I have done is, as my friend noted, be a seeker. Something I cannot deny, a rather simple acknowledgment, that wraps many times around the packaged contents inside. Not just a search for sights such as this monument, but almost a quest for place and location, understanding, expression, change, impact, connection and too often control. Certainly a struggle to let one lead and assign others to follow.
Second day sent me down the route of river and stream, Gunnison, Dolores, and others unrecognized. Through red stone canyons, carved and cut deep, by the waterways running alongside, hundreds, maybe even a thousand or so feet below the tabletops. A marker notes the age of some of these rocks, some even older than the Grand Canyon. In some ways this route resembles the Grand Canyon, though the water is not as wild, nor the depths as great. Still, there were as many and varied canyons, broken off the axis road as the shattered lines of a windshield splintered by a kicked rock from an unconcerned 18-wheeler recklessly speeding by. A 30-mile distance covered took more than two hours due to my constant need to pull aside and gaze and gasp. Cottonwood was in full golden cover along these liquid trails, providing a color wheel of contrast to the red canyon walls, and the occasional olive green juniper. Such beauty seemed unconcerned about my presence or impact, having seen and felt the steps of the first humans thousands of years ago, later followed by Native American dwellers or travelers, then the Spanish, eventually miners (seekers themselves). There were a few markers to note the first interlopers, and some direction given to show evidence nearby. But, there had to be undiscovered signs hidden, or at least, unobserved, of indications of other seekers, others transient in their lifestyle, others curious and needy to establish their place and purpose. In this amphitheater, it is impossible for me to believe or accept that previous steps could have been taken otherwise.
Now back at home, having to pack for that trip down south, another scene, another setting, a continued search.
