Short flight but early in the morning the fog sticks low in the hollows, looks like bowls of clouds from above. It looked so amazing from above I wanted to turn on my phone and tag the location with my GPS so I could come back one day. I imagine camping right in the dead middle of it. Trekking across the furrowed earth until I hunker down right on those coordinates so I can wake up in the morning amidst the thick of it.
It really was in the middle of nowhere; I could see some meandering fire roads and foot trails but there was nothing else for miles. I so wanted to be down inside those puddles of cloud, waking up dead-alone, all sound muffled and muted and the air thick with moisture. I thought about cooking myself some breakfast while the sun tried to reach me, about maybe hiking to the rim of the surrounding hills before the fog lifted so I could look down and not see my own campsite. Maybe eat lunch up there, look for planes flying over.
Then I got to work. No clouds at work. Just work at work. Goodnight.
Also written on this day...
- knowing is half the battle? - 2018
- just wanted a burrito - 2009
- optioning tradition - 2008
- play-by-play hyperbolized-realism - 2007
- urine my prayers - 2004
- boats, check; poop, check - 2003
2 Replies to “nothing else for miles”
I also want to go to this place.
Who know what’s down there in that bowl of cloud? The hideout of some guy who stole your credit card 🙂