Day 17. The Basin.

The air dries out and begins to suck the moisture from my skin as the sun peeks over the horizon. It is going to be hot today. I'm five miles out of Atlantic City and I'm already thinking about water. But, that won't last long. Soon, my mind will be fixed on other things.

I have set out alone this morning to face this stretch of road that I find so daunting. There is nothing to be scared of. There is nothing at all. No trees. No people. The sounds and sights of the Divide that have surrounded me to this point have disappeared.

Everything stands still in the basin. It is a vacuum. There is no movement or noise. There is only the sound of my tires pushing through the rocks below me. I can hear every rock, every grain of sand, push over the surface of the road as I roll forward. 

Time dissolves into now. 

My preoccupation with my own mortality fades.

Twelve hours in 37 degree heat and only 4 liters of water; there is no easy way to get through this. I have no choice but to leave the comfort of the livingroom of my mind and wander down the unexplored hallways of my psyche.

Amid the isolation and loneliness of the basin, I wander down a dark hallway. I open a door and I find a good friend. I recall so many amazing moments that we have shared. Conversations. Laughter. Silence. Adventure. Understanding. 

It is a connection that I have not shared with anyone else in my life. Every shared experience and emotion is compressed into an instant. My sense of gratitude is so intense that it hurts. It hurts! 

I try to ease the pain by separating each memory. I want to savour each wonderful moment. Still, it is overwhelming. How am I so lucky to have someone like this in my life? How could I ever feel lonely or scared when I have a friend like this? 

I need to spend some more time in this hallway. There are more doors and there is more to discover, but the road eventually leads to Rawlins and this is where I will rest for the night.