The edge of the map has always held a certain allure. In the old days, “there be dragons” denoted the unknown- inspiring visions of adventure and disaster lurking just beyond the edge. The edges still inspire me. The transitory regions between geography, or politics, or culture. For a bit, I played some music with a group calling ourselves “Border Affair”- we bent the edges of folk and country and acoustic jam. It’s an appropriate description for my affinity with the edges.
I’m in canyon country now. The journey here was varied, and for other reasons, stressful. Life in transition rarely goes according to plan. I enjoyed traveling off the beaten path some. Bear Lake sits well off the highway, half in Idaho, half in Utah. It was on my radar a few years ago for different reasons. I enjoyed a lovely vista and healthy run before continuing south.
Yuba Lake State Park was unremarkable except for the fact that it sits on the southern edge of the Salt Lake City metropolis. A night there marked my transition from careful urban car camping to a more wild sense of living. Sparse country, not yet blistered with bands of red sandstone, but void of the evergreen Northwest I am accustomed to, this border marked more than just the urban/wild interface- it marked the transition of breathing, of hoping, of entering the awaited wilderness.