I spent an extended weekend in the New England area exploring a job prospect at a summer stock playhouse. The Barn is located in New London, New Hampshire, and a cousin of my grandmother runs the place. No matter what anyone says, most jobs prospects occur because of nepotism and who you know. I ended up turning down the job of doing publicity for The Barn, mainly because of distance (I'd have to move cross country) and lack of money (four grand for the five month stint). The Barn runs five or six musicals a summer (Rogers and Hammerstein type stuff), and there was no way for me to sneak in one of my chatty existential works. I considered the upsides of the job (college actresses and cast parties), but I would have caused as much havoc as help. So as a result, I'm still embedded in the Land of Entrapment.

I've lived in Albuquerque for almost eight years now and in New Mexico since 1982. What am I still doing here? People my age are on the move, making on their way in the go-go world, and I sit in the backyard soaking up 60 degree late afternoons in February and accomplishing next to nothing. What's worth wallowing in the desert?

There are actually many answers to that question, but I just found another reason. 100 miles west of Albuquerque on I-40, 71 miles north on State Highway 371 and two miles down a gravel road rests the Bisti Wilderness.

Even with just a mile to go, it is unclear whether you are going to something worth viewing. The desert plains near the four corners area are not much of an enticement, but once you arrive, you realize that the significance lies below the plains. For whatever reason (some have claimed a meteor hit the surface, while others say it is a prehistoric sea floor), about six miles of land have eroded into a multi-colored eroded rock kingdom.

Red, green, black, white, brown and gold. Rocks painting other rocks. Hoodoos and hard sand castles litter the area. Along with two friends, we quickly cut off the main wide canyon bottom and romped through the hidden innards. As entertaining as the shapes look from the main canyon, hundreds of dazzling rock formations make up pockets visible only by wandering off-the-beaten path.

The bizarre aspect of the Bisti is that the colors and rock makeup change every two to four hundred yards. I regressed into the fantasy worlds of Middle Earth and Terry Brooks novels I read as a kid. We hopped and romped throughout, making our own names for different areas. The Peppered Highlands, Burnt Canyon, the Scarlet Promontory, Harry Plateau, Leprous Falls, Dark Lip Land and the Sleepy White Tops. Many a fantastic adventure could be created in the Bisti.

The landscape of the area mimics jagged sections of earth above ground, but everything is miniaturized. What looks like a huge cone hill is actually only thirty feet above your head. Structures with the same shape as mountain ranges take only two minutes to reach the apex. We spent five hours as giants in the little kingdom and explored less than a third of it.

When you stop walking and talking, the only sound is the occasional breeze and the white noise trapped inside your head. You are louder than the land.

The official Bisti Wilderness is next to the Navajo Reservation, but there are no doubt similar sections throughout the area. It has no economic value, with minimal mineral benefits and a disaster for ranchers and farmers. The only value is its morphed formations. It's just layers of rocks no longer buried beneath the surface, and it is one of finer natural playgrounds on Earth.

This magical place is two and half hours from where I live, and since I'm still in the area, a return trip is mandatory. Stuck in the desert with a slow smile on my face.

Chris Jungle will still consider working for you.