"We wake at dawn to discover the desert hills shrouded in rolling clouds of vapor, seeming remote and mystical as the Mountains of the Moon. A rare and lovely sight and we are sorry to leave. We console ourselves, as we always do, with the thought that we'll be back, someday soon. We will return, someday, and when we do the gritty splendor and the complicated grandeur of Big Bend will still be here. Waiting for us. Isn't that what we always think as we hurry on, rushing toward the inane infinity of our unnameable desires? Isn't that what we always say?" Ed Abbey

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