Death Valley: A Place of a Billion Footsteps

Our memories are bookmarked by the ebb and flow of colors that mark the thousands of sunrises and sunsets that we’ve experienced. Each recollection of an arriving, or passing, of our nearest star brings with it a flood of snippets of that day. The conversations. The laughs. The meals. The afternoons we’ve spent in the front cab of the truck because it was freezing and pouring outside. The oohs and awws from stumbling upon a vista worth ooh-ing and aww-ing over. 

This particular sunset was bookended by the fact that once the sun was gone, we were heading home. It was beyond still. There wasn’t even a hint of wind in the air. It was the ever changing colors of the sky, the giant mirror on the ground, and the salt beneath our feet. 

We didn’t find this place. It wasn’t even hard to find. Hundreds of thousands, if not millions, of people have been to this place before us. But the fact that we were there experiencing it with our own eyes gave us that ever-so-addicting sense of discovery. 

On the drive back, we enjoyed a dinner from the golden arches, and reminisced the day. We laughed at the days jokes. Laughs which add to the deepening lines on our faces. Deepening wrinkles which hold memories of days gone.

—Linhbergh