Storm At Poison Spider Mesa
I would wind down the ragged switchback with an invigorated spirit that blinded me to the situation at hand.
Bob Marley’s “Could you be loved?” beat between the pounding rain and shaking winds. I descended the off camber ledges. They were now waterfalls; they were evil and gave the best lines to the cliff’s edge. My ambitions to make Colorado by sunset carried me down swiftly.