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looking at the sky

At dawn I wake and set off across the plains. There is nothing to suggest that the Grand Canyon lies barely a mile to the north of where I ride. I spend the day struggling over rocky ranch tracks with nothing else to do but admire the sky. An inland sky is totally different to a coastal sky: the quality of the light is different, more lucid; the blues are sweeter, more varied.

The sign indicating the road to Highway 64 sits well past the junction with the tarmac road.

The sign indicating the road to Highway 64 sits well past the junction with the tarmac road. It is only 44 miles to the highway and I am hoping to be there before dark.

The road runs straight across the plain. There is not a hint that the Grand Canyon lies a mile to the north.

The rocky road runs straight across the plain. There is not a hint that the Grand Canyon lies a mile to the north.

Horses on the plain are my only companions for the day.

Horses on the plain are my only companions for the day.

The road is, as I was warned, very rough. I bend the smallest drive ring on a rocky section and lose my low gears.

The road is, as I was warned, very rough. I bend the smallest ring of my drive chain on a rocky section and lose my low gears.

Endless road.

Endless road.

More horses, trying to work out if I am one of them.

More horses, trying to work out if I am one of them.

Road and sky... both go on forever.

Road and sky... both go on forever.

Darkness approaches...

Darkness approaches...

The sun sets before I reach the highway.

... and the sun sets before I reach the highway.

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