The small dividing line of road weaving through great plains of land. The road's end plays tricks with your eyes as it seems to bleed into the horizon. The view on the left and right are long stretches of flat golden brown and rich green brush; visibility broken by massive mesas with clouds resting just above.
We were on a stretch coming from Moab Utah headed to Denver and had been managing our way through some winding, forested roads when we started up a long incline. Hitting the crest, spilling into view was an incredible mural of American perfection. There are times on a road trip where you turn a bend and find yourself staring directly at postcard-like scenery. Few words can describe exactly how you’re feeling about what you’re taking in, so a lack luster comment of "Woah! How beautiful!" spills out of your mouth, and gets swept quickly out of the car window.
"We gotta stop. Pull over here."
Not a car for miles; behold the expanse of this country, and the lack of human beings cluttering it. Right at that moment, I feel a small sense of distain at the place where we live our day to day lives; an ignorant but natural feeling.
"Look out for cars! I'm gonna get a few shots, so cover me," I yell as I run out to the middle of the road to capture the image.
I want to stay out here. For me, this was what I was longing for when I proposed a road trip. To stand, gazing at this open land in its glory, brings a sense of intimacy, as though I were the first to ever see this great scene. It's difficult not to feel a sort of spiritual interaction with what has been displayed before me.
"Babe, we gotta get going!"
We head out and I sit in reflection as I think further about what I’ve seen, and it's significance to me now. I hope I don't lose this. I hope I come back to this spot again one day. To look out at the great expanse, the untainted lands that lie between the big cities, and the treasures that lie between the pin points on your travel log. These are the places that challenge our language; searching for adjectives that all fall short in their description of the brilliance.
We roll up the windows now, five more hours until we reach Denver. I look at her and she at me. We both experienced this place together, and know that it was unique for the both of us. So we sit in silence for a while until one of us makes a suggestion of music to put on. The trip goes on and opportunity to be “wowed” again is back on the table.
"The Woods by Hollow Coves."
"Yeah, that’s a good one! Good choice."