Silence Before The Storm At Poison Spider Mesa

It was the overwhelming scent of rain on the desert floor and much needed solitude from the group. Thoughts of my muddied and clunking truck faded away as I realized what good fortune I had in Moab; enough to know it was my time to depart on such a high note. Despite having parted from the group after breaking I had found my Zen alone watching the storm move in.

It was time to head back to town on my own, fix the truck, pack camp and set off for a last my stand through Colorado. I had no time to waste waiting on weather, another trail or another night – Colorado was calling.

I wondered where the constant flow of traffic had gone, as if they had been forewarned of the ensuing brawl in the skies. Obviously, I prefer ringside.