Location: Bishop, CA 395 South
Inside a Denny’s. Sanctuary from the looming heat in Bishop. Just got back from Stovepipe wells in Death Valley. The only excursion to the heart of the desert for this trip. But so much more planned. There is a hip couple to my right. Intimately discussing their life. Their pandemic roadside travellers as they inhale their grandslam to their stomachs. Their nomadic existence that bring them closer to their light.
Behind me preppy young faces, fresh on the road to their college dorm discuss their climbing experiences. At two to three thousand feet between catching up on the lastes “Breaking Bad Episodes.” These boys are young. “Giggaty” Escapes from their all knowing lips. Do you trust them?
Arizona, who is in front of me, in the confines of our tiny booth studies the menu as if it were a mid term. Her attention to detail, the matter of the grade of egg she shall consume. Folks fresh off the late shift sit behind her. Speaking in Spanish about their day. Making light of the dark hour as they laugh and inhale their food, while Rhiana sings on a late night talk show.
And here I sit in this place almost at the edge of the Earth. Hundreds of miles away the breath of the sunset impaled the gorges within me. Painting the true geographic nature of the surrounds that only Sunrise and Sunset can truly tell the tale. The methods behind nature are fantastic, epically motioning everything in this vast changing globe.
The curved roads brough on suprise after suprise of breath taking images that are etched, carved into the rock formations of my own being. To feel so fucking small in a huge aspect beyond any control. To realise the elements and the magnitude that surrounds us.
And yet, here I end at Denny’s listening to the mundane conversations around me and the heat of the valley disapating away back to the heart of civilisation where no one realises the extent of it all.