North Coyote Buttes, Paria/Vermillion Cliffs Wilderness, AZ
Climbing the draws between the beehives and turrets in this cold, dry air has my blood pumping. Or maybe it's the rush to find what's beyond each turn, over every rise. Such a dichotomy, this sere landscape with it's warm hues of color. The occasional barren tree is a skeleton against the sky, the denuded brush seems to offer no life. Even the grasses are nutritionless white stalks this time of year. Even the exoskeleton of the slickrock is brittle and cold, harboring snow remnants on the lee side of the sun. I have seen nobody, and there is barely a sound but for my footsteps. Have I made you feel cold? I felt welcome...