Dunes stretch out as far as the eye can see in the Mauritanian Sahara.
Dust storm at the end of the road.
Self portrait in the Sahara
A camel dies in the desert.
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Over the peak spreading clouds,
At it's source the river's cold.
If you would see,
Climb the mountain top.
Hakuyo
At it's source the river's cold.
If you would see,
Climb the mountain top.
Hakuyo
About Me
- akroadweed
- I am an Alaskan who loves to travel-the new experiences, the sights, sounds, smells, and especially the people. It is amazing how people all over the world are willing to open up, sharing with you a small piece of their lives and showing you a window into their world. I also love my home in Alaska-the open wilderness, the mountains, the beauty, and, yes, even the long, cold winters! This blog is a place for me to record and share my experiences, photos, and my sometimes pointless musings.
Some of my more memorable experiences
Country Archives
- Africa (10)
- Alaska (7)
- Archives: Where are we now? (1)
- Argentina (2)
- Cambodia (2)
- Carretera Austral (2)
- Central Asia (10)
- Chile (3)
- China (13)
- Ecuador (1)
- Grand Canyon (2)
- India (7)
- Ireland (1)
- Kyrgyzstan (4)
- Laos (2)
- Mauritania (6)
- Morocco (6)
- New Zealand (7)
- Pakistan (1)
- Paraguay (1)
- Peru (5)
- Reflections (4)
- South America (11)
- Southeast Asia (5)
- Thailand (2)
- The Itinerary (1)
- Turkey (5)
- UK: London (1)
- USA (5)
- Uzbekistan (2)
Other blogs of note
O, how incomprehensible everything was, and actually sad, although it was also beautiful. One knew nothing. One lived and ran about the earth and rode through forests, and certain things looked so challenging and promising and nostalgic: a star in the evening, a blue harebell, a reed-green pond, the eye of a person or a cow. And sometimes it seemed that something never seen yet long desired was about to happen, that a veil would drop from it all; but then it passed, nothing happened, the riddle remained unsolved, the secret spell unbroken, and in the end one grew old and looked cunning . . . or wise . . . and still one knew nothing perhaps, was still waiting and listening.
HERMANN HESSE
Narcissus and Goldmund
HERMANN HESSE
Narcissus and Goldmund
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