Here I am again at the edge of a plateau-like mountain, at the end of summer, and at the border between the inland northwest and southwest in northern Utah. As usual, hunting season is about to begin. Surprisingly, I rather like hunters as camping neighbors, probably because they don't make gunfire sounds very often and they drive so slow!
Still, I try to escape camping neighbors. Physical obstacles can be used as screening devices, but in this case I almost screened myself out. Sometimes, it's a game of inches.
I had to back out of this mess. It was pure dumb luck that I made it.
Oh sure, there are lots of golden aspen at 8200 feet of altitude at this time of year:
But this sort of thing is best left to weekender-leaf-peepers and RV newbies. My main interest is the last copse, on the left side of the photo:
For years I fluttered my eyelashes at this last lonely and forlorn copse of aspen, on the edge of the plateau before it descended several thousand feet into town. Someone had told me the road coming up from town was too rough for my trailer. That just made it seem unapproachable, unattainable, and infinitely desirable.
After milking the act for so many years, I finally drove up from town last year. I was disappointed to find it an easy road. The forest was nice, but it was no different than the spot from which I had yearned for that last copse for so many years. So the romantic bubble had burst. Still, it was a pleasant experience, best appreciated by reading Edmund Burke's "Sublime and Beautiful."
This year, the first of October has brought the usual temperature collapse. A change of weather sometimes kills off the monotonous blue-white glare of a western sky, and makes the sky interesting and lovable:
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