This past Sunday, Andy and I awoke at 4:30 AM to haul ass to Vasquez Rocks State Park in Santa Clarita. It was pitch black as we hurtled up the highway, and our only imperative was to make it before the sun rose up over those hills. Andy had packed us a picnic lunch the night before, and I prepared thermoses of hot tea the morning of...! It was still dark when we got to the park but as dawn drew nearer, the sky went from black to inky blue and gradually began to lighten. Andy pointed out the Pacific Crest Trail running through the park as we picked our way through scrubby junipers and sagebrush and felt that strong silent hum of dawn thrumming through our bodies.
The sun was supposed to rise at 6:37 but it felt like it happened ten minutes after that. We wondered aloud what sunrise really means - when the sun is over the horizon, right? But I guess it's a bit more subtle when you're eagerly anticipating it.
Of course when the sun did pour its rays over the peaks and washed over the hills and rocks and dips in the land, they were a beautiful rosy hue, tinged with gold, flaring off into tangerine halos. I am consistently thrilled by daybreak and how it swiftly and powerfully it really does make itself known.
It was a great decision to get to Vasquez Rocks early, before that dry heat set in. After scaling incredibly steep bluffs and eating our picnic lunch-now-breakfast, Andy showed me how much of a mountain goat he really is as he hopped around me, encouraging my ascent to that one large peak shown right above as I clutched at the sandstone for handholds, footholds, and stayed as close to the rock face as I could. We surveyed the alien landscape around us and watched cars slowly file in to the park as we packed up and readied our exit. Overall 10/10, would come again.
