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A photo posted by boardporn (@boardporn) on
Stillwater XV // A Window in Time // We make camp early. Grabbing my running shoes and a headlamp I head out of camp at a trot, soon slowing to lateral shuffles as I pick my way around dead and dying tamarisks and across the dry pocketed moonscape that was, for a geological nanosecond, a lake bed. Moving upwards, clusters of abandoned fire rings serve as testament to spring breaks come and gone, and to the unapologetic. downward march of the shoreline. A mile or so from camp I pass a few names and the year ‘1986’ scratched into soft red stone. High water relics from Powell’s glory days and the year I was born. Pushing upwards, the last of the fire rings disappear and the pristine folds and layered lines of the landscape trace an inviting path to a window in time long before (or after) we were here.
A photo posted by Nicole Hunziker (@nicolehunziker) on
Have a good trip.