Continuing yesterday’s story, this is what I saw after the bighorn sheep and I parted ways.
I wish I could tell you names of the landmarks in this photo. Of course, the water is Lake Powell, filling in a sandstone defile named Dangling Rope Canyon. But beyond that, the topographic maps give no indication of given names to the mesas and buttes.
Perhaps its better that way. And I’m sure the indigenous people that’ve called this land home for thousands of millennia have much better names than whatever the white man might’ve come up with.
All I know is that on this particular evening, only myself and a curious bighorn sheep got to see this view. If the Rabbitbrush only had eyes, he’d realized what a grand show he was a part of, his tiny yellow flowers popping up from the terra cotta soil while the cliffs ignite in a blaze from the setting sun.
Just a few minutes after I took this photo, the gold and orange turned to red and pink, with cotton candy hues painting the clouds too. It was one of the most unforgettable evenings I had during the elongated summer of 2015.
That’s it for this Daily Dose. Enjoy!
-Jake
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