Backcountry Bluff, Utah to Angel Peak, New Mexico. To Truth or Consequences.

 I'm back "home" now, with hot water that comes right out of the wall, and a big, squishy bed. It's the same, but everything is different.

It's a hydrant that's a dog ... the circularity boggles my mind.

I've known for a while that I want to reclaim the considerable parts of overlanding (I warned you earlier) that were full of wonder and magic. 

I was just a little stuck on the notion that that life had been hard and somehow ... traumatic? Fixated is probably the word.

This is the kind of "washing" you don't want to do while camping.

I also wanted some guidance and maybe company, realigning my head. And, by head, I mean my noggin and my toilet.

That's why it was both wonder-full and magical that my friend, Mike (YES DOOD, WE ARE TOO FRIENDS!!), invited me on his trip to Utah. He is one of the overlanding royalty, entering his ninth year of this life.

I had full swaths, not just slivers, of the recognition that I am meant for this. [Mom: I am also meant for a pied-a-terre; no worries.]

I'm also not the person I was three years ago. I've written aloud that I wonder what difference that might make.

Angel Peak Scenic Area. You can scene, but you can also camp.

Mike, my gratitude for your patience and im-.