You begin to see the signs for the Moki dugaway from seven miles out if you are traveling north, from thirty if you are coming south. We had seen it on the map, speculated a bit, and decided we would go find out what a Moki dugaway was.
We had arrived in Mexican Hat that morning, found the river, found a fellow traveler named Jay and made for some swimming and bathing. We showed Jay how to wash clothes with sand. Jay shared his maps and some thelonius monk with us. Jay said he would miss us, but he was heading towards monument valley in the morning and we were going for the dugaway.
Moki dugaway 7 miles,
Gravel Road
10% Grade with switchbacks
Travel not advised for RVs, trucks longer then 25 ft., autos pulling loads
Use extreme caution
It took a few miles before i noticed...
Slow but steady and then it struck like a hammer...
nothing.
no cars.
no trucks.
no sounds.
no nothing.
for seven miles...
nothing.
Nothing for as far as the eye could see in any direction.
Nothing for as far as the ears could hear.
The dull, deafening roar of complete silence.
It enveloped us like a thick winter coat on a cold winters day.
nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
So much nothing it overwhelmed.
We rode on after awhile, up the dugaway (a gravel switch back), out along a high plateau, in absolute stillness.
Just us and the road.
That night I fell asleep next to the dying embers of a juniper fire under a blanket of stars so thick it hurt my eyes. I counted the satellites racing overhead and marveled at the plans flying over to someplace else. I could count on one hand how many people were within fifty miles.
That top picture is flyover country giving you the finger, right?
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