Drove to New Mexico once -- got in the car after school and just went. Next thing I know I'm at the Colorado border and realize I -really- ought to turn around, because if you keep going, you'll never stop.
A similar thing happened when I was a kid. I took a climb over a small water-fall to find that the top was a vast expanse of swamp as far as the eye could see. I have no idea why, but I started marching a straight line through it, barefoot (which I wouldn't notice until the way back when I would step on a sunken log and cut my feet) -- some how I made it through the swamp without hurting myself -- and found what looked like a cut in the earth, about 12 feet across, maybe as much as 20, and sloped up about another 12 feet, no more than 15 on either side. The row was lush green and at the top of either of the mini-hills following it was the thickest row of tress I'd ever seen (this being in the Texas Panhandle, any trees were a sight really -- but these were side-by-side for miles) --- I would later find out that this "cut" was the Canadian River, dried out for the summer, and if it were two months sooner in the year I never would have made it out of that swamp alive. . . but it wasn't two months earlier, and it is to this day the most unnaturally beautiful thing I've seen in my life, the closest thing to a religious experience of my life . . and I still remember when I got far enough along that path so that I could no longer see where I came from, nor where I was going. . . I was a kid, and suddenly I believed quit whole-heartedly the path never ended, and if I kept going, I'd never get back. . not because I'd get lost, but because I'd never turn around.
