The vast

Horizonless to the degree one might imagine a sort of physical eternity.

Able to see in all directions. Able to lose oneself to the west and find oneself to the east, able to conceive of the earth as a planet among planets.

Walking beyond the imagination to see what's there, walking some more. Having this kind of space.

From Logan Pass in the glacial mountains of northern Montana, descending north toward Belly River, looking for the old camps of Joe Cosley and the Aspen trees he carved his initials into. No matter where you might look
for Joe or how well you might know the mountains, he'll never be found--they say he's made a cabin up above Alberta and gone to live alone up there. Hunting and trapping, making a legend of himself, an outlaw, poet, and Robin Hood, first Park Ranger of Glacier National Park turned fugitive, making fools of all those searching for him.

Vast. Having things to yourself for a little while and looking out from there, fattening up on solitude and silence before you head back to where you came from.