refuge

"To protect what is wild is to protect what is gentle. Perhaps the wilderness we fear is the pause between our own heartbeats, the silent space that says we live only by grace. Wilderness lives by this same grace. Wild mercy is in our hands."

—Terry Tempest Williams, Refuge

Today I wandered by the Great Salt Lake. I'd flown over it, but never gotten this close. 

The horizon goes on and on forever. 

It feels like you can see the curvature of the earth. 

The "sand" is full of minerals, sparkling, taking on many hues. 

Lots of tourists were at the lake taking selfies. 

Including me. 

I'm not sure what Saltair, the building with turrets, is doing here. 

As I was leaving, a parasailor showed up. 

It wasn't really windy enough. Not like Fort Funston. 

He struggled a bit, then got a little lift. 

Not a bad way to waste an afternoon. 

Tomorrow: heading south.