Intent on our destinations, how many anonymous places do we pass along The Road without slowing, or glancing out a window to see what we’re missing?
Driving southeast from Hanksville, Utah, towards Blanding, I pulled into an unnamed, unsigned graveled area off the highway and parked my truck. A few minutes to stretch the legs, rest tired eyes, listen to the quiet (which hummed in the twilight), and look around. That was all I wanted. This is what I found.
The traveler sees what he sees, the tourist sees what he has come to see. —Gilbert K. Chesterton