I'd been looking over my shoulders for almost an hour. Left and right, right and left. The sun was setting behind the mountains behind us, and every where I saw images to capture.

Clouds blasting across the high divide, backlit white flames against a dark range.

White and grey badlands tinged with the rose of the end of day.

Photos I would have stopped to take, had I been alone. But we were leaving quite late from our meeting, and both wanted to get home.

So I didn't.

Until we topped the high rim, and I could stand it no more. With the briefest of warning to my mildly irritated passenger, I slammed on the brakes and skidded to a long stop on the ice-covered road.

"For that" he asks? "There's nothing special about that."

As I climb back into the rig after hastily stealing a few shots, he predicts, "That'll stay in your camera forever, and you'll never look at it again."

And he would be wrong, wouldn't he?

Listening to: Kathryn Tickell Band.