Yesterday I drove to the end of the world. OK, not really – but where I live, if you go out on certain roads, you reach a 700 foot deep gorge. I drove 16 miles to reach the spot I ended up at, where there are no other people, no traffic, and no sounds other than the wind and a few birds. I parked the car and went for a short hike down into the gorge, just to get some exercise. That didn’t last too long, as it was kind of chilly down there, so I headed back to the Jeep – but not to go home. To sit in the silence, in the sun, and read.
I brought another book I am reading right now called Plenty: Eating Locally on the 100-Mile Diet, which documents a couples’ desire to eat local food made within 100 miles from their home. Quite an undertaking, really – and one I would like to mimic eventually. But this post is not about this book; it’s about the fact that I drove to my figurative end of the world and sat for hours, in my Jeep, reading a book. In those few hours, I only saw 2 other cars – one that turned around and another that had come for a picnic with their entire family. It was quite a nice couple of hours. Some days, there is nothing better than finding a spot with a beautiful view and quiet surroundings and checking out a great book. It helps to settle the soul, I think.
Where do you go to find your end of the world? Do you have a place you go to when you need settling? The gorge is mine…what’s yours?