The broken clouds of the rippled sky were cast away as the waters of the August rain filtered through the sedementary rock. The creek had overcome the banks that were familiar to all in the preceding months. The terrain was ours to conquer in a method that was unkown. The muddy waters were moving at a pace like that of the westward waggon trains slow, steady, but still it was inferior to the speed of our vehicle. The wet Earth was spun twenty feet through the air, but we forever cruised on. The rocky ledges were our guide, the trail forever reaching toward the horizon. The summer trees reached out to impede our progress, the Earth's crust slipped out from beneath us. But all was conquerable in this world.
"Hello in there" was his only comment.