The valley better traveling than the canyon.

It was lighter, freer of sage, and there were no rocks.
Soon, out of the pale gloom shone a still paler thing, and that was the low swell of slope.

Venters mounted it and his dogs walked beside him.
Once upon the stone he slowed to snail pace, straining his sight to avoid the pockets and holes.

Foot by foot he went up.

The weird cedars, like great demons and witches chained to the rock and writhing in silent anguish, loomed up with wide and twisting naked arms.