All I know is that on this day we did the best thing we could have done, which was to drive out to the Rio Grande in the storm, sundown.  Alone on the bridge, we watched with the Bighorns, across on the vertical crags, as the Mountain Gods seemed to descend from their peaks, and in procession sweep across the mesa and gorge, draped in sunshine, cloud, hail, snow, and lightning.

 

After a month on the mountains and witness to this grand spectacle - a gift to our human eyes - we felt as exalted and weathered as the land itself.