The mighty Buckskin Gulch

It was 7 am and the temperature was already approaching eighty degrees. A tiny black snake hurriedly scurries in front of me and disappears into the sagebrush.
The morning is silent as I start the eighteen mile trek into Buckskin gulch.
The sandstone narrows the deeper I venture. Shadows and light playfully dance against the red rock walls.
The mud from the week’s earlier rains have baked and cracked under the relentless sun. It trails down the path into a sanitarium of the unknown.
Deep pools of water try to stop my progress, abandoned logs crisscross the path, trying to block my way.
Yet nothing can stop the driving force I have within me to explore, to conquer wherever I may roam.
*****
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Wench, bring my ale, what say you?