Ryan's Journal

With some local guiding from a generous host and friend of a friend, twenty-four hours of New Mexico wrapped up with a few hours at Tent Rocks, another national monument slightly off the beaten, featuring whimsical rock formations and a fun slot canyon hike. The Monument rangers don't get much to work with, and dire warnings about water for the 1.5 mile loop yesterday and the 3 mile there and back seemed a bit over the top. Yes, the inclines are steep, but most healthy adults can save some effort by leaving the liquid poundage in the car instead of humping it in. Although I'm sure both of these places get intolerably warm come midsummer. Thus far, the threatening clouds have made for cooler, less intense outdoors conditions and excellent photography, so long as the actual downpours are encountered only from within an enclosure.

Slot canyons are a photographer's playground. There are a few in Havasu on tribal lands in Arizona that keep crying out for a long, dedicated visit.

Tent Rocks led to western Texas, a sparse place infused with a scrubby repetition, a parsimonious monastic chant of a landscape that calms the eyes and fills and empties the mind. It isn't for everyone. I don't mind just passing through, physically and literarily. Although there was an ATV wonderland advertised. That seems perfectly matched to the terrain.

The rains have continued to follow me into Texas, and a thunderstorm beats upon this hotel as I prepare for a rest before the final push to Dallas.

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