“One day I heard someone talking about ‘sifting sand’. I liked the sound of those words and scribble in my notebook ‘old man sifts sand’ tells stories…’ and forgot about it.

Then one day I was on a beach, watching the sand trickle through my fingers and thought, what if every grain held a story. And what if someone were able to tell those stories by sifting the sand?”  –   Wikiquote

“Thousands of tired, nerve-shaken, over-civilized people are beginning to find out going to the mountains is going home; that wilderness is a necessity…”  ~ John Muir

I am not someone who will sleep under the stars, or in a tent, or in a rustic cabin or go anywhere near anything that creeps, slithers, buzzes, flies, sneaks, spins a web, etc.  I do absolutely love to be outside and I love to hike, as long as the hike doesn’t include me edging along some precarious cliff face. I’ve mentioned before, I’m burdened with a wicked fear of heights.

It’s the stuff movies are made of. Monument Valley. The classic western hero riding his horse along the horizon, the magnificent sandstone buttes that must be seen to be believed and Yes!  There he his, John Wayne, on a 5-year quest; The Searchers.  Yep, it’s the stuff movies are made of.