Nomadic. Storyteller. Soul searcher. Experience hungry. Music carnivore. Dreamer of better things.
Black Point Fissures
I find a double track trail that splits from the dirt road. A small weathered sign has the faded words inscribed, “Black Point Fissures“.
I find those three words intriguing enough to put the Jeep into four wheel drive, and slowly lumber down the trail…final destination unknown.
The sun has broken up the cloudy and overcast sky, shining brightly and illuminating everything in brilliant afternoon colors. I dodge and weave through soft sand and scale rocks until I come to a black volcanic hill. I get out and touch the sand, and let the electricity coarse through my body.
I start to climb.
The hill is deceptively steep, and so I zig and zag my way, hoping to summit before the sun sets. I peer down and see a group of hikers along the shore, seemingly looking like army ants dotting the expansive landscape. They are none the wiser of the presence above them.
I stop to catch my breath, put on my mask, and rest in the volcanic sand. Clouds drop moisture onto the lake in the far distance. The wind is howling through the brush, the sun sparkling against the snow covered mountain peaks behind me.
It’s a moment of perfection from Nature that I’m captured in.
I run down the hill, twisting and spinning with giddiness. I happen to have a video running, and it catches pure happiness on my face.