The Road to Perdition
This is Highway 374 leading down into Death Valley. This portion consists of miles and miles of straight blacktop from Beatty to the border between Nevada and California. At that point, it twists and dips down into Death Valley itself.
Death Valley held important meaning for me in mid-life. I was fascinated by the desolation, emptiness, and quiet. I needed it. It was the only place I felt peace, the only place I could think. There were no distractions: no people, no machines, no trees, no clouds – only the blue sky above and the alluvial sand and rock of the eroding surrounding mountains below. On one visit in 2003 I stepped out of my car, walked 20 paces off the road, lay down on the hot sand, and stared into the featureless blue sky. It was complete freedom, harmony, and peace. Over the years, I would draw from that experience when I felt overwhelmed by people and their endless, disturbing stimuli.
I am energized by solitude, especially desert. I am enervated by people and their incomprehensibly petty actions, crimes, and motivations. There are no crimes in the desert except ones that I might bring with me. No senseless powerplays between people, no domination, no judgement. The hot sand accepts all without judgement, and that may be the best definition of love I have ever found.