Years ago, when this lifestyle was new to me, I happened upon a rocky overhang in the side of a cliff, which was redolent of an Indian cliff dwelling. It wasn't perfect -- it opened to the north, instead of to the south. How gloriously comfortable it would have been if it had faced south.
Still, it was tall and provided good protection. Back then, I was more impressionable. I positively fluttered my eyelashes over this spot. So I dragged my trailer to it, almost getting stuck in the process. And I had a campfire under the rocky overhang. It was fun to act like a kid, by projecting shadows of my hands onto the roof.
|Who's been sleeping in my bed?|
But now I noticed somebody else had at least had a campfire there. Maybe they had slept there, too? Instead of being angry about the intrusion I felt strangely good-natured and generous about it. Why so?
Perhaps it was the thought of a nice payback for my policy of not giving away boondocking sites on the internet. This policy had, apparently, preserved the magic for somebody else -- somebody who decided on their own to find and appreciate this spot. (And it must be 'on their own' in order for there to be any magic in the camping.)
I'll never know who this person was.
As desert dessert, there was a slot canyon in the "front yard."