There's a mystery in arriving at a place long after dark, as I did here late last night. With the morning comes the surprise of what you've discovered, and where you called home just the night before. This place is no different, and after a few hours sleep, a quick cup of black coffee, and a two day old half eaten bagel I head out on foot into the dry expanse of darkened desert to wander the scene and wait for sunrise.
Adding to the stillness is the complete lack of animal life. The baking heat of the daytime forces most desert creatures to become active during the long cool hours of night, but as I eagerly await the sun, these animals have long ago taken refuge from its inevitable rise. They are a bit smarter than I am, but I'm here to photograph and have come well prepared with enough water to make my own oasis.
It's getting lighter by the minute, and the expanse of the valley is becoming more apparent. I seem to be the only person here, which makes me smile. It's a necessity for me to come to these places, not only to photograph, although that's a driving reason, but to become whole again. Perhaps when we're alone in these places, forced to confront the barest of life's essentials we come to understand something within us that cannot be reached when in the presence of others. A sudden rustling jerks me from my meditative trance and I see a small jackrabbit dart from under a bush a few feet from me, it's huge radiator ears pumping blood to dissipate it's body heat.
