Diary of A Mountain Woman in a Strange Place

It has been several months since I left my mountain cabin. I loaded up the buggy and made my way southwest. I have been told the climate is much more amiable and the scenery is interesting if not as spectacular as those of the glaciers of northwest Montana.

I have noted that it is much more populated here in the Santa Juan’s. I see more people and fewer animals. I did spot a few small deer the other morning outside my camp but they don’t compare to these deer from last summer. I don’t venture out much here in the desert regions. It seems every plant and animal is prickly and sticky. You walk past and are instantly assaulted by sickly odors or spiney protrusions. The absence of fresh water is abundantly evident in the dryness and crispness in everything around me. How can some place with so much water be so thirsty?

Today I resolved that I would go out and shoot something. It had been much too long. I ventured out of camp. I spotted a tree with a cavern large enough for a full grown person to sleep. I saw strange formations on the ground. Markers from those who had gone before. Then I ventured out to the trail.

I read this:

I turned around and went back into my camp where it was safe and turned on Oprah. I don’t think she’ll eat my face off.