Alone with the Rocks

The dog in question

The dog has been driving me kind of batty lately.  He seems especially needy since we've been on the road.  I suppose he is, since he's blind and completely dependent on us.  But since our trailer is so small and he needs to kept within the confines of our campsite, he's effectively in my personal space all the time.  And I mean all the time.   Twenty-four hours a day.  He shares my single bed in the trailer both at night and whenever we have to be inside if the weather is too cold or windy. There's only floor space for one person to stand and do anything at a time in the trailer, and there's no sitting space other than my bed and Mike's.  

At home in Maine he's just free to wander around the house and though he follows me when I move from room to room, there's more overall space and I don't feel as confined.

While we're camping, since we're in such close proximity to other camp sites, he's on a very short run and I have to monitor him pretty constantly to make sure he doesn't bark at other people, get wrapped in something,  or dig enormous holes. 

Mike's been telling me to feel free to leave the dog with him for awhile if I want to go off for a walk by myself or take a trip to the nearby State Park.  I finally took him up on the offer the other day and went off by myself with my camera outside the perimeter fence of the Hot Springs.  It was wonderful to be alone, with no dog needs to consider for a little while.

Pretty rock in the labyrinth

I hiked up the hill next to the Springs.  I'd heard there was a labyrinth and a stone henge nearby.  First I came across a stone lined path.  Many of the stones that lined the path were beautiful.  I was tempted to gather some (I actually picked up a few and put them in my pocket), but then I remembered my intention to not gather anything, to take pictures and have memories instead; I also thought of the others who would be coming after me and I wanted them to be able to appreciate the rocks, too.  So I came away empty-handed and -pocketed.

Path to the first labyrinth

The path led to a labyrinth.  I took a few pictures from eye level and then i tried to take a few from close to ground level so that I could also capture the mountains in the distance.  It was only later when I was looking at the pictures on my computer that I realized that the pattern of the stones, the labyrinth itself, is visible when only seen from above.  Looked at from close to ground level, it looks like only a random jumble of stones.  I appreciated that---this double-natured characteristic of the labyrinth.

Labyrinth

After I'd visited this first labyrinth, I went back to the main path up the hill and walked a few hundred feet.  I saw a barely detectable path off to my right and followed it; it led to a second labyrinth.  In this one, too, people had placed beautiful stones in piles.  I felt tied in time to the people who'd been there and who'd also appreciated the rocks and the larger landscape.  I reflected on this feeling, of being tied in time to others through this place; what kind of thing is it?  It existed only in my imagination.  It wasn't a physical thing, like a rope.  It wasn't based on knowledge of particulars about individual people.  The people who came before me and the ones who would come after me--we would know nothing of one another, except our knowledge that they and I did and would exist, and did and would appreciate this place.

Seems to be a random jumble of rocks

From there, I again returned to the main path and walked to the top of the hill where I found the stone henge, a large circle marked out by column-shaped stones with their ends inserted into the earth.    Traditionally, a henge is marked out by a circular ditch and an enbankment, but this one had only the stones.  Also, the stones in some stone hedges mark out the position of the rising and setting sun at the equinox and solstices.  I'm not sure if that's true of this one or not.

I roamed around the top of the hill for a while and finally just stood in place and looked around at the surrounding valleys, hills, and buttes, as well as the mountains far off at the horizon.  In one direction I could see the entire hot springs complex laid out below me.  In another other, I saw the butte adjacent to City of Rocks State Park.  I stood and felt the breeze flow around me and listened to the enormous silence that extended in all directions.  Eventually I walked back down the hill again to see M. and the dog.  The dog had been fine without me, of course.  

Stone in the henge