Friday, December 16, 2011
A strange wind blew through the absolute silence. No one was in sight because no one was there. We were alone to walk the canyon trail, among the ancient ruins and reaching shadows. We wandered aimlessly, sleep deprived and sore. Ravens hunkered in hidden alcoves and crumbled granaries. Occasionally, one would call out, perhaps mistaking our stumbled delirium for wounded antelope, soon to be carrion. Tiny lizards played chicken with our foot falls, scattering in every direction. The falling darkness and exhaustion compelled us to walk faster. We were willing to do just about anything to be back in our hotel room so we could crash in a heap.
We were probably too tired to fully appreciate Hovenweep while we were there. Probably, we should have waited until morning. But the memory of that evening still hangs in my thoughts, a ghost of wonder.