Sturgis and Beyond

Wednesday, August 18, Monument Valley

Woke to an incredible sunrise. I can't stop taking pictures.

Buffet breakfast at The View restaurant offered good food and more than delivered on the view.

Then I decided to hike the Wildcat Trail. Just 3.2 miles, it goes down to the valley floor and in between the two “mittens.” Like any great adventure it had a touch of fear, a moment of despair and a comforting redemption.

It is a fairly steep decent to the valley floor. Once down, the trail crosses gullies and follows washes around these giant and magnificent rock formations.

I felt relaxed and calm and took my time. But on the backside of the mittens are some Indian homes. Far off, I thought rather far off. Still one of the Indian's dogs did not think it far enough. He suddenly and menacingly popped up out of a gully and ran my ass off the trail. I kept backing away from him, talking calmly, all the while looking around my feet for a stick. I found a short one and grabbed it. The dog kept his distance but kept barking. A ways further I found a bigger stick, one that gave me a fighting chance if it came to that.

Now I walked more confidently, the dog seemed to lose confidence or maybe I was reaching the edge of his protective boundary. In any case after some tense moments he stood on a hill and watched me disappear over the next.

Once my heart stopped thumping, I reacquired the trail and settled back down into my pace. I kept the stick for a while, just in case.

Now my attention turned to the clouds, which were darkening rapidly. Wind was gusting through the gullies. I started looking for places to climb in case of flash floods. Unfortunately, I was now on the valley floor and high spots were sparse.

Still I figured my biggest danger was getting wet, until I saw my first lightning bolt, that is.

I picked up the pace a bit and felt a lot better when I rounded the mitten and could see my tent, way off, and way up, but I knew exactly where I stood.

These big horizons here in the West offer the opportunity of watching a storm descend upon you. (Back east, it just rains. There are too many trees or hills to see it coming.) I looked to the lightning, then to my camp, and figured that both were fairly far away, but the storm looked farther. Unfortunately, the ever bigger wind gusts had me wondering if that storm wasn't traveling a whole lot faster than I was.

Picking up the pace any more was not an option, because I was on the final part of the trail and it is all up.

Rain drops, not many, began falling on me as I hiked the final tenth mile. I ducked under my rain fly content that I had made it. Then the wind really kicked up, coming it seemed from all directions. I hunkered down in my tent to wait out the storm. It was more wind and bang than rain. I weathered it just fine.