A fine looking woman surrounded by runway models.
The Abajo Mountains have Arches National Park to the North, Canyonlands National Park to the West, and Monument Valley to the South. Most tourists barely notice the gentle green mountains, as they buy gas at Monticello or off to the south, as they drive to The Needles. I ended up here not by design, but by taking a short cut myself, leaving The Needles at Canyonlands, on my way back to the big highway.
I parked the truck in a hunter's campsite, near a stream and begin bushwhackingup along a stream bank.
Within minutes, I'm deep in a centuries old forest of Ponderosa Pines and ancient Aspens. The aspen trees are bringing tears to my eyes for they are huge, some six feet in diameter or more. Old wood, dead wood and new wood mix with the mossy rocks along the stream. I stop and play with some aspen twigs and make a little spiral of tiny posts. The stream is steep, loud and reassuring. I drink from it. Sweet water. Icy and good. I walk further upstream, but I'm stopping often and long. Sitting and smelling. Breathing with my eyes closed. Alone with no humans, but not alone with all of these trees. Young, old, and very old.
If there are Wood Elves anywhere in the world, surely, they are hiding here.