A crazy roadtrip across two states to see a friend. The traveler, the dreamer, the exotic circus lady. Talk about her need for rootedness and my need to uproot some of mine. Coming from opposite directions, maybe we can meet in the middle.

Beyond, a defile between the mountains descended rapidly about two thousand feet; and, filling up all the lower space, was a sheet of green water, some twenty miles broad. It broke upon our eyes like the ocean.

How do you frame such a thing? A long-ass drive with a cramped up backside? A redezvous in washed-out desert light? A desperate break from the deadening routine of things?

In addition to its primitive, challenging beauty, it projects a profound sense of antiquity. Gazing out across its surface is an experience almost four-dimensional.

The road, wide and rambling, indistinct-edged. Sand blowing in drifts. On the road before dawn. Smell the coolness in the air and the promise of a hot day. Feel the bike rumbling beneath me through my tailbone.

Proceed to the distinctive sawtooth formation at the northwestern corner of the lake. There is a hot spring here. Get naked and get in. This is major magic, and an absolute must for the traveler.

And what of endings? Middlings? Beginnings? What of this? What of that? Let go of expectation. Be present for the journey with no focus on destination. Take everything as it is revealed.

Atop a final rise, the lake appears, a shimmering sheet of blue across a vast valley.