Sometimes, you aren’t on the move very much when you head out on a trip, but you find a good place and you settle in and you spend the next few days learning the rhythms of this place. When the crickets begin to chirp, when the afternoon breeze begins to whistle through, when the sun turns the mountains gold to purple, to pink, to pitch black. You fall into the rhythms and your hearts beats along with it.
We found this place out there that is a place of land a family bought a long time ago to keep protected. They leave it public, and people respect it. We’ve met fly fishermen, families, and more who have been coming to this place for years. There’s a magic to it, especially knowing so many others have felt the magic over the years and have kept it so beautiful with its sweeping plains, its fog that rolls in each morning, and its hot springs that steam alongside frozen ice patches.
Kai loves this place. She can’t get enough of the stick, the bushes, the jack rabbits, the deer, and the packs of coyotes she hears as we slip away into sleep. She’s not too good with the cold, so we had to head into town and find a jacket for her. She must play a little rough because there was a hole in it after one day.
This week was especially cold. We were coming from San Diego heat waves to icy nights where even Kai’s water bowl was a frozen water puck in the morning. We were hoping for snow, but the storm rerouted itself and showed up the week after we left.
Even Kai began to slip into these rhythms out here. Wake up when the sun does. Bundle up in jackets. Watch the plains turn golden and try to stay as warm as possible. She’d sit here each day staring out at the view. We couldn’t have gotten a better adventure dog.
As we were driving out on our last day, Jeremy pulled over quickly here. Look at this view. When you come here in the spring, this place is green and full of flowers and more wildlife then you could ask for. I remember when we found this place, pulled over, and couldn’t help but have a picnic with this view.
To make the drive a little shorter, we headed out to a place called Alabama Hills, CA. From here you can see the trail up to Mount Whitney. At night, you could see the headlamps bobbing along as they made their way down for the evening. We drove only an hour and suddenly we were in basically desert.
A new rhythm to learn.
Jack Robbits, orange skies, gentle winds.
We found the perfect spot to set up in and enjoyed the night before heading back home. The last night is always hard for me as I think back to the rhythms at home. Be up at this time, be on the road, traffic, etc.
Out here the rhythms are slow and easy, but I’m learning to find the beauty in both.
I am so thankful that we get out like this. I am so thankful that my rhythm is changing and I resync to new rhythms so often. I take lessons from the clouds as they sit easy or let the wind blow them around a bit. I watch the plants as open and close and point towards the sun, what makes them feel alive.
I’ll take this home and remember to sit easy, to point towards what makes me feel alive.