I have one day off during the busy holiday weekend so I stay nearby. There is another canyon in Tucki (Tuck-eye) Mountain I haven’t hiked called Little Bridge, named after its main feature, a natural bridge, little, but not so little you can’t walk under it.
I pass caravans of tourists headed for the sand dunes. From the mouth of the canyon they look like ants on top of ant hills.
There are only two faded pairs of shoe prints I follow, it’s not a popular hike I guess with it’s ankle twisting rocks and deep gravel tread. I’m slow and steady, hanging onto my shoulder straps, pausing to look around, trying to figure out what wash to walk up.
The walls of the canyon start out a vibrant red rusty orange Digonnet calls “ocean bottom ooze,” formed a gazillion years ago.
Around the next turn there’s a wall that’s vanilla and chocolate.
And another that looks like strawberry swirl.
This beats plucking bloody boogers off walls in rooms that smell like microwaveable ramen. Til tomorrow!