Stories From the Quiet Turnoff
A retiring ranger once hinted at a modest side bench with a scraggly juniper and impossible silence. Ten minutes off-route, we found a horizon where ravens surfed thermals like sailors.
Stories From the Quiet Turnoff
Following a chill breeze into a shaded fold, we heard faint chimes. A tiny spring bubbled through volcanic pebbles, ringing delicately. We left only gratitude and a promise to tread softer.