I have returned from the west. I am tanner, wind burned, sore and content. I am one of those people who love the desert. In this particular case I spent the last few days in the Chihuahuan desert around Big Bend National park and the Davis mountains of far west Texas.
I would highly recommend it to anyone who wishes to experience the echo of life in the old west and the challenges faced by the natives and immigrants who chose to make it their home. It is a harsh and rugged landscape that has two hundred million years of geology and climate change on display. The weather is unpredictable, surprisingly pleasant some of the year and rules with an iron fist.
This harsh climate, as it often the case, has produced a truly multi-ethic population which is cordial and welcoming. One of our hosts at a rock hounding site asked, “What do you do? We need one of everything out here!” She meant it. Those who choose to make the high mountain desert their home want others to come see the grandeur and beauty of the land they call home and, if you have the heart, to come join them.
I won’t deny the allure. I could see myself sitting on my porch watching the sun set over the mountains and writing. The solitude is a tonic for the noise that accumulates in my head during the blur of life. If I could find enough brave adventurers I would host a writing retreat out there, in the middle of the great wide everything.
Let me know if you would like to know more, I have been many times and I am sure I will go many more. The desert has a way of getting under your skin like a lover whom you never could tell good-bye.