Ever On and On

The Road goes ever on and on
Down from the door where it began.
Now far ahead the Road has gone,
And I must follow, if I can,
Pursuing it with eager feet,
Until it joins some larger way
Where many paths and errands meet.
And whither then? I cannot say.

~Tolkien

Words and thoughts and feelings are still being formulated from the images and memories, the pain and sand of the weekend. Passing through my mind are flashes of stone, blackbrush and wind. And more wind. Wind swept horizons, the rippling of the Green, sand being tossed into the air on some distant slab of slickrock, or, more often than not into eyes and teeth.

There is no doubt that a stiff headwind will remind you that you are alive. The senses are assaulted with noise, stinging sand, grit, and the musty smell of rain on the desert floor. And yet, with that feeling of vitality comes an irrational desire to find a deep cave where no sound or light or heat or cursed wind will ever disturb a long and dark slumber…

When riding the White Rim there is nothing to be done for the wind, except to follow the road, “until it joins some larger way, where paths and errands meet.”

The Road goes ever on and on
Out from the door where it began.
Now far ahead the Road has gone,
Let others follow it who can!
Let them a journey new begin,
But I at last with weary feet
Will turn towards the lighted inn,
My evening-rest and sleep to meet.

More tomorrow…