It was a good thing HC didn’t blink, or else the sign pointing to the Burr Trail would have been missed. What truly was intriguing about the sign was that it eventually connected to the Lake Powell Ferry, something that he didn’t even know existed.
The road started out as pavement, but after thirty some odd miles turns to dirt. Four wheel drive is recommended after that, so we shall see how far down this lonely heart of darkness he can venture.
Side roads let HC head out in to true isolation, places where he can let his drone explore without worry of disturbing anyone else, except perhaps a buzzard or high flying crow.
He comes to the end of the pavement, and the dirt road has deep ruts which indicates the end of the line, at least for him. A few cattle give him a sideways glance as he turns around. On the way back, he stops to admire a rising monolith of stone out in the high, flat desert.
So in his own mind HC is that he doesn’t even hear a Jeep approaching. An older couple, close in age to myself, softly ask me if I’m getting good footage of the area with my drone. I embarrassingly tell them that I hope so, and mention that I’m sorry for the noise. They bid me good day, not seeming to mind the humming of the drone.
