Canyon Turnout

Eased the blue cruiser onto a broad granite shelf where the abandoned grade opens wide over a deep gorge. Cut the throttle and dropped the kickstand onto solid stone. I walked to the edge of the weathered rock wall, listening to the twin exhaust pipes tick down heat behind me. Reached into my saddlebag and pulled out my brass compass to check the northward heading. The needle swiveled smooth, settling true toward the crest. I pocketed the brass case, picked up an angular granite chip from the shoulder, and sent it spinning out into the drop, watching it vanish into the pine shadows far below. Good vantage point.