No Country for Most

I love the desert. I was born in Arizona and frequented the Superstitions with my dad quite often. I love the red rock sandstone deserts and those filled with the Joshua Tree. Dunes are nice as well. The steppe is often a place where most people would rather not go. But I find things there where most do not.

I'm right at home in this photo. I'm near a place where the U.S. stores its vast supply of old chemical weapons and destroyed at a facility about twenty miles south. This mountain was scaled in my truck via an old trail that goes straight up the shoulder. It was a bit unsettling seeing nothing that would stop your fall if you were to roll or have a brake failure on the way down. This was my second time up this mountain. The first time I did it my passenger side exhaust got torn off. Bailing wire was my rescue. No breakdowns this time.

Just out of frame to the left is a high peak. It is just under twelve thousand feet. It has two narrows up its canyon. They are the gates to an alpine scenery that betrays the desert climate below. Wildlife thrives on both sides of this yin and yang. Men and mayhem don't do so bad here either.

The world needs places where a man can step outside of culture and society by living out his most destructive needs. The desert has been such a place throughout time. I always wonder when I will find a dead body out in places like this. It is a bit macabre to think this way. But I do not shrink at myself and my innermost wanderings. There has to be a letting of those things.

This is the place.