Twenty minutes into my early-morning descent into the Milk River Canyon, the thick covering of clouds that smothered the sun started to separate. Shots of white light hit the sun-scorched hills and, suddenly, the lunar landscape was alive. I kept heading down, through a maze of red-orange concretions, hoodoos, and water-carved slots. High above, raptors floated on the thermals and fast-moving bands of cloudshadow streaked across the valley floor in waves. To the east, a river glowed silver. I felt like I was in another world, abandoned on Mars. Read More