I can see the craters of the moon from my sleeping bag. The gentle gray pockmarks cast shadows upon the otherwise iridescent crescent, as if river rock strewn across a
Deep within Horseshoe Canyon, as the Navajo sandstone gave way to the older rock of the Kayenta formation, our small group began to look for the Spot. Each day the
Inches below the murky water my toes are invisible. The Green Rivers’ flow is incomparable to the Mexican streams I bathed in days ago. My first encounter with the waters