I drove my father crazy when he took me hunting. While we were, on paper, out there stalking deer, I was always hunting for rocks. By the end of most hunting trips, I had both my backpack and his filled with rocks I had collected.
More than once he threatened to
quit taking my hunting if I didn’t stop looking for rocks.
Well, Dad, I am still hunting
for rocks to this day.
Just yesterday, Desiree and I
entered rockhound Valhalla. We skirted
and ascended the rock-strewn slopes of seemingly endless badlands where dinosaurs
perished millions of years ago and now offer up their dark bones as fossils.
Not just dinosaurs. Scatterings of petrified wood are common
along the inclines and within the rainwash notches.
I can say in all sincerity: I
had one of the best days of my life scouring the badlands for fossils.
The landscape is beautiful and
otherworldly. Gravity seems to have lost
its way among the capstone formations.
Wind and water have carved weird holes and patterns into the sandstone. Layers and extrusions of iron draw sharply
contrasting patterns within the pale stone shoulders. The sky, filled with smoke from fires in the
western half of Montana (and beyond), only added to the surreal feel of the
place.
And yes, yes, yes, we found
dinosaur bones.
The Sun Yields a Bow of Light
Desiree, Stacie, and Eric
Desiree and a Hoodoo Formation
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