Mapping the Ridge

A wide paper trail map lay spread across the low pine coffee table, one edge curling upward. I climbed onto the tabletop from the rung of an adjacent stool. To keep the paper flat, I rolled a solid glass marble against the stubborn crease until it held. The printed contour lines for the canyon behind town are packed tight, marking steep elevation and narrow washes. I traced the winding path of a dry creek bed with my hand, noting where the rock gives way to an open alluvial fan. The route into the hills looks rough, but manageable.