Climbing a desert’s huge dune at White Sands National Monument lent me the feeling of having been reborn as an ant roaming on a mountain of whipped cream sprayed at the top of a big dessert’s treasure thrown through the vent of a cremation session. Fast I took few pictures and my flee.
Whence, a long—and quasi-nonstop—ride has occurred: I deserted the piles of ablaze sands of New Mexico, heading my scheduled next step, Carlsbad Caverns, also located in New Mexico, but chose a long detour via Texas onto more or less plain roads in order to round the mazy path over a range, to bypass El Paso, and further on to adopt a straight line to the forever-faraway-caves, but a detour dragging to deal with stout storms, low sights, and high floods, some odds delaying and forcing to take breaks on waysides, but for my sake, urging to adjourn the planned goal, thus to pull the rig at the bottom of Guadalupe Mountains National Park, in Southwest Texas, where an all-year-long-opened RV-parking-lot greets worn out stagecoaches-and-crews.
The rain stopped, and a rare double-rainbow faded in, and (while looping in my mind a cue by Nux shouting at a furious Max, “What a day! What a lovely day!”) I breathed some fresh air . . . Then, before dusk, and followed by sorry-snores, in delight, a bed was climbed.
Written, Filmed, Edited, Directed by Ph. Bouyer-Gray
Music by Pierre Gerwig Langer (SESAC)
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