I was close in the previous post when I declared I’d crossed the border into to Galicia, but now I do have less than 100 miles to go on my virtual hike. At the slow pace I’m doing on machines that is a couple of months.
But this post is mostly about photos in my continuing series of photos I’m finding in my personal archive of trails (or crude roads). As it’s said in the movie, “the road is among our oldest tropes”. There is some about a path that holds us, compels us to move forward on that path. So here’s the first of this series:
This is a short trail along a river we found on the way to the Natchez Trace in Mississippi. It was a pleasant walk through the woods. I don’t much like photos that include me but in this case I relented. But from behind it could be anybody.
So let’s get something a bit more visible:
This was an unexpected and quite beautiful hike in Guadalupe Mountains National Park just across the border of New Mexico into western Texas. While this photo doesn’t show the fantastic fall color we encountered, totally unexpected for just a dry place, it is one of the few pictures of me on the trail, taking photos of course. Here the trail crosses a dry riverbed that probably experiences the classic rapid flooding when there are rains. This is along the route through McKittrick Canyon which I can highly recommend, especially in the fall.
And as, I hope, the last time I do this here is another hike, this time across country on no trail at all:
This couldn’t be in a more different location. Here we’re hiking overland in the Big Snowy Mountains of Wyoming. I’ve visited this area multiple times (the nearest big mountains to my home in flat Nebraska). The interpretative signs there claim that at one point in Earth’s history these were the highest mountains on the planet.
This shot is late fall and there is even a bit of snow falling. The purpose of going cross country to to “nowhere” is indicated by the invisible object I’m holding, a Garmin eTrek GPSr. We’re headed to a “dashpoint”, a completely arbitrary coordinate on the earth to try to reach if you can. Usually we reach these points with a car but this was a case where the dashpoint was on public land and thus a place where we could hike.
Actually this was a tough hike because much of the area was even more rocky than you see in this photo. Without an actual trail scrambling over rocks can be very tiring. But we found the dashpoint and returned to the car (had to drive to civilization to file our reports) and escaped the snow that closes in just after we were there.
Looking at all the photos of the Camino, the closest I’ve come to actually trekking there, it’s very pleasant, but if one seeks some beautiful country off the beaten path it’s hard to beat the USA. This isn’t some patriotic chauvinism, just a simple statement of geography. When I see the area around the Camino and realize how long people have been there, with terrain altering technology, part of the beauty of the “nowhere” in USA (or even more so in our neighbor to the north) is simply that people, at least with much technology, have been here such a brief time and thus so much of the land is only slightly altered.
In the trail I showed in the previous post, a very symbol of “civilization” (the railroad) has retreated and disappeared and nature has reclaimed the narrow corridor where once steam prevailed with greenery and now fortunately a place of respite of trekkers.
So enjoy these photos because of the 30,000 I have (with a few worth posting) these are probably the only ones where I’ll be in the shot.