Just after sunset, chasing the light down the valley and into the next.

Before the slot canyon, there was this sand dune, no assistance required.

The sign had fallen away a long time ago, I will assume that the the sign’s referrant is likewise non-extant.

Or so it always seems every-time it rains in Southern Colorado.

Above the clearing where we made camp, we stumbled upon the reason for the path we were on, that once was wide enough to allow wagons or cars up, to provide materials to build the miner’s cabin and frame out the mineshaft. Now some decades on, the cabin and mineshaft entrance are both crumbling into the ground, providing a dramatic counterpart to the sea on pinon trees all around.

In which one who doesn’t believe that people can own land retires to his land. Titled and all.