The tent, before I had moved all the big rocks onto it. The big rock in the foreground held one of the ropes up.

Lichen covered, lying still high in the mountains,  in their home time eternal. Warm golden days of summer were brief while the cold of winter set in early and clutched to the ground as long as it could with all it’s strength. Trees are stunted and branches often grow on only one side due to the intensity of the winds. Water is scarce, except when not needed. Large outcroppings of stone are scattered throughout this land, giving it a unique appearance that some find cold while others, like myself, find comforting. Soil conditions are poor and growth of any plant is slow and tedious. Large jackrabbits, sly coyotes, and quick deer call this their home.

Christmas Eve and all my friends had gone off to visit family, far from this desolate habitat. Neither my family nor I had sufficient funds to pay for the fuel and tolls for me to travel the two thousand miles home. Two thousand miles.  One family was kind enough to invite me into their home for the day, but I felt like an intruder and headed for where I feel most connected. The winds were expected to peak at over seventy miles per hour that night. The quiet town in the distance was boarded up, deserted streets and the proverbial tumbleweed skipping down the streets with nothing in its path to stop it.

My battered C-10 pickup was loaded with my tent, some worn blankets (my sleeping bag having been stolen some time back),  small, basic amount of food and a flashlight. The drive in is normally done only with four-wheel drive, and then it needed high clearance to avoid the rocky approach. My skills at driving my beast of a truck were honed in the oilfields of Wyoming, traveling miles on end through mud as deep as the axle and then rapidly changing to hard pack roads dustier than a two bit motel. Icy patches of the one lane trail tested my abilities to the utmost. The drive in was surreal, the wind already howling, calling my name. There would be no one else out in such conditions tonight, at least not human.

Twilight was fast approaching and I lugged my tired belongings to a favorite spot. The tent could not be staked down for the wind laughed at my attempts. To late to drive back into town and there were no options but my original intent. Tying the ropes of the bright orange tent to rocks was futile: the wind so intense that it would lift the tent up and shake it, with me inside. Now darkness was near and I found my solution. Scattered about were the lichen-covered rocks, embedded in the earth as if tentacles held them in place. With a stick I could free them from mother’s grasp and carry them to my tent. On each side I placed three, then two on each end, firmly securing my humble abode. Once inside my deluxe flashlight shone for the last time and I was alone with the darkness. The fabric of the tent was whipped about creating a torturous sound and I fully expected it to be torn to shreds at any given moment.