You are in a narrow, rocky canyon running between high, craggy cliffs. Striated pillars of rock thrust up from the ground amid collapsed arches and tumbled boulders from the heights above. Here and there a few hardy plants grow in the shady crevices. A large, horned lizard, sunning itself atop a flat, rock shelf, lazily takes notice as you pass by.
The canyon runs north for awhile and then bends off to the west. At the bend, an old horse trail winds up the eastern side of the canyon wall and ends at a small cavemouth. To the south the sounds of rolling surf can be heard.

"I would rather be ashes than dust!
I would rather that my spark should burn out in a brilliant blaze
than it should be stifled by dry-rot.
I would rather be a superb meteor, every atom of me in
magnificent glow, than a sleepy and permanent planet.
The function of man is to live, not to exist.
I shall not waste my days trying to prolong them.
I shall use my time.”

Jack London