Leaving the Colorado River, the ascent to Golden Valley through Union Pass surround him in the sky island mountains, rocks that have broken free of the earth’s crust and take the sky. The shale spires outlast eroded mesas, fire and time. Teddy bear cactus, ototilla and yucca bush thrive here as if it call out they live only among the spires where the earth and the sky thrive along the water. Non grata rains forge a rare thunderstorm.
Over the summit he finds the highway intersects with Milky Way Road where the unencumbered night sky is dark and infinite, a honeymoon of stargazing and countless moments of zen. He sits on his motorcycle at the Golden Valley gas station undecided about his next move. The dropout quality of life in the Golden Valley is magnetic yet loneliness engulfs him. He can forge his search for meaning here or ride on with the sky and the winds seeking out what lies ahead. Either way, the Mojave will mother him if only he strays so far. The Colorado River is behind him now but he is ever mindful that the water is near.
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