Golden fields dotted with bushes of sage fill the expansive horizon. Off in the distance, too massive to accurately predict how far away, lie towering mountains, snow just beginning to settle on their caps.
Cows wander about free from perils, grazing at the dirty grass to their hearts content and I pull down a rough gravel road. “Charcoal kilns 5.8 miles” it warns as I make the turn, apparently knowing that I am in a car the “shouldn’t” be able to handle this terrain. Unperturbed and committed I head off, wondering just how long my luck traveling without a spare tire will last.