Occasionally I wonder if traveling alone is any different. Today was an example of what prompts the rumination:
I pulled off to check out a side road. It looked kinda rough so I parked on the shoulder and hiked in. Returning, I heard the sound of what I thought might be a chainsaw. I went to see.
It was a Navajo-Hopi man using a weed-whacker to clear an area near a sweat lodge. His grandfather had told him 35 years earlier to put the lodge there. They hold sweats every other week. There were several beautiful art pieces that stay there all the time. At times they've disappeared, then been found somewhere else on the property. Recently, one that was presumed stolen, suddenly reappeared.
We talked for about an hour and a half. It was a nice way to spend the afternoon. But would I have pulled over to check it out if I'd been with someone?
