Wednesday 30 August 2017

Monday, August 28th, 2017

Sand Mountain, Nevada

A Real Chief

He had that iconic or classic look of a wise Native American Chief, in fact he is a Native American Chief—Chief Johnny Bobb, of the Shoshone tribe, his long whitish hair, pony-tailed, frames his face.  He came out of his car and offered some prayers in his language because he understood from my walking purpose that I could use help.

“Just face the sun,” he said.  So I did, and then he tossed water in various directions saying prayers—mantras.

“What does it mean?” I asked after he was finished.

“May your legs and feet be strong.  May you be protected and be successful in your forward journey ahead.”  He offered me a sage brush stick for good luck.
That was so sweet.  I shared with him the maha-mantra.  I believe we had a mutual good wish for each other.  And while I met the chief, I pondered on the whereabouts of the balance of our party—Hayagriva and Marshall.  Apparently they were at Sand Mountain, a two mile long, six hundred foot high dune.  The support van’s wheels got stuck in that sand, which explained the delay. https://instagram.com/p/BYYXlWmlD7U/
With the sun blasting today at 100° Fahrenheit, my umbrella is necessary.  Mystically, objects to shield that merciless sun manifest.  A group of bikers speed by.  Accidentally, one of the biker’s goggle shades came rolling down to my feet.  They’re cool, with a strap.  Further down the road, I see three sets of sun glasses that were rejected and thrown in the ditch.  Hmm!  There’s three of us!
Despite the heat I believe to be smart with the feet.  Chase the right hours and dodge the inferno.
May the Source be with you!

25 miles

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