A Horizon Full of Sagebrush

It’s 10am on a random Saturday in 2002. This is my second year enlisted in the USAF. My first permanent duty location is Mountain Home AFDB, ID. While working full time and studying part time for my Bachelor of Science in Computer Science, my choice of blowing off was to take advantage of my first transportation vehicle. I bought a mountain bike to get from the dorm to work last year. Before I could afford a car. That is a story for another time.

Every Saturday I ride. No particular goal in mind. No particular place to be. I’ve just had a full breakfast, and my camelback is fully loaded with water and some backup snacks. I won’t be back until around 4pm. Just my bike, and my thoughts. No maps. No cellphones (well, except that Nokia that could only call and text).

Off the roads and onto a dirt trail. Sagebrush on both sides as far as the eyes can see. On and on to ride, sipping lightly from the Camelback. Around 1pm, I decided to make an extended stop. This looks like a good enough space. Of course, there are no trees in sight. This is a high desert plateau after all. But space enough to pull to the side, park my bike and sit on this approximately two-foot circumference rock. It sits on a small peak. From it, the panoramic view is still sagebrush and dust everywhere. Some foothills near enough. There is not a cloud in the baby blue sky. The sun isn’t exactly helpful, with its blistering light. And the desert throwing up scorching heat.

A little way down the decline I see a small river meandering its way. Snaking through the terrain. Middle Fork Boise River. The water projecting its own cool blue. So inviting in this furnace. And I realize. If I go down this decline, I might not have the energy to climb back up, and then to ride back home. Might as well think that if I had brought a few eggs, maybe I could have cooked it on this rock.

This dance of the sun and the desert have lifted the fog that clouded my mind from all that work and study.

It is time to head back home.