I don't think it's any big secret that I love to go to the desert in search of solitude. Probably the thing I enjoy the most about my southwest trips is getting away from people and all the "noise"... in the seemingly endless forms that it can come in. Our health, both mental and physical, is challenged each and every day and every one of us needs a way to recover from those challenges. For me, recovery has always come in the from of escape... escape for a morning, afternoon or a full day into the woods on foot or on a bike, or onto the water in a canoe or kayak. Or, on longer multi-week trips to the desert. Getaways, both big and small, are essential to maintain our health. It is on these outings where I am able to escape the noise and reground/recenter myself.
As Edward Abbey wrote in his book Desert Solitaire:
"But for the time being, around my place at least, the air is untroubled, and I become aware for the first time today of the immense silence in which I am lost. Not a silence so much as a great stillness - for there are few sounds: the croak of some bird in a juniper tree, an eddy of wind which passes and fades like a sigh, the ticking of the watch on my wrist - slight noises which break the sensation of absolute silence but at the same time exaggerate my sense of the surrounding, overwhelming peace. A suspension of time, a continuous present. If I look at the small device strapped to my wrist the numbers, even the sweeping second hand, seem meaningless, almost ridiculous. No travelers, no campers, no wanderers have come to this part of the desert today and for a few moments I feel and realize that I am very much alone."
"... I watch the sky and the desert dissolve slowly into mystery under the chemistry of twilight. Dark clouds come sailing overhead across the fields of the stars. Stars which are unusually bold and close, with an icy glitter in their light - glints of blue, emerald, gold."
"...the mighty stillness embraces and includes me; I can see the stars again and the world of starlight. I am twenty miles or more from the nearest fellow human, but instead of loneliness I feel loveliness. Loveliness and a quiet exultation."
I couldn't have said it better myself...
