Mud, Mud, everywhere, and not a fancy mud-spa in sight.
The earth of the Red Desert cracks and shatters and mazes its way around sagebrush and highways. What only a couple of days ago were open lakes and lush wetlands have withered into stark arrays of extinct creek beds and sea floors.
With the passing of the heavy winter snows, rock slides and washouts and flash floods have destroyed evidence of human invasion, the highways and industry roads that spiderweb their way across the endless stretches of nothing.
Our feet leave only ephemeral footprints in the dusty red of the crumbling mud ponds, and we keep our eyes open for the white pelicans the spring flats are so famous for.
Worn and splintered, the deserted waterways wind around sagebrush and abandoned cars, making temporary paths for big and small, pronghorn and tiny ant alike.
In the distance, the Red Desert dips into valleys and rises into the mountain beyond. It’s full of empty spaces, the Great Divide Basin, and even the oil and gas development present in regular intervals fails to ugly the scenery as we walk along the mudflats.
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