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Desert Time

Escaping the regimented time imposed by modernity is essential to reclaiming our powers of observation and rekindling our sense of awe.

Craig Axford
7 min readAug 20, 2024
Puebloan ruin located in a canyon above Comb Wash, southeastern Utah. Photo by author.

A small army of ants marches back and forth at my feet, following a chemical highway they have laid down that disconcertingly leads from their hill to my small camping table. Another species, less than half the size of the other, is swarming over the socks stuffed into my hiking boots like two dirty corks, presumably mining them for salt.

Currently, the air is still and dry. Much of last night and again this morning it rained. After a July filled with arid one hundred plus degree days, I had welcomed the rain. After coffee and bacon, when the morning showers began, I stripped off my clothes and let the heavens wash July away. No one was around, except the local wildlife and my dog, Athena. Devoted nudists all.

After the rain stopped and the coffee pot was empty, the time had come to do what I had come here to do. I had made a preliminary investigation of the area after setting up camp the day before and had practically memorized the map before leaving home.

The canyons cutting east to west through the steady 45-degree incline from my location in Comb Wash to the top of Cedar Mesa are riddled with ancient ruins. As with all…

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Craig Axford
Craig Axford

Written by Craig Axford

M.A. in Environment and Management and undergraduate degrees in Anthropology & Environmental Studies. Living in Moab, Utah. A generalist, not a specialist.

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