I've always found it an intimate, awesome, engaging place. First, it blows me away that something like this EXISTS
out in the middle of all the potatoes and beets. Next, every inch has its own bit of fascination, be it a blooming onion or buckwheat,
a spreading clump of moss, a pattern of lichens, an angular crack (small or large), a massive juniper, a thick carpet of juniper detritus...
it goes on and on. If it is early enough in the year, the mosses are still moist and green where juniper shade protects them,
and the place isn't too hot to wander around in.

The maps show roads (multiple) reaching to the flow at different locations, but when you drive those roads,
you find that the last mile is on some part of someone's potato field or cow pasture. Having visited this flow twice before,
in spring and summer, on one of these roads, I chose another for an early autumn visit. My Vanagon managed to slip into a rut
as I attempted to emulate the truck that had passed, just moments before me, over the "roadway" through the center
of the recently-harvested potato field, which had been, I discovered, too recently unburdened of the season's first snowfall
to allow my less sturdily-tired vehicle to pass. Nothing I could do with the steering wheel had any effect at all.
Climbing out onto the sticky, slippery mud, I forayed out into the field (stepping in the ruts left by harvest vehicles,
and also onto spent potato vines where possible), gathering armloads of dead, leafless potato vines for an hour or more,
laying them in front of all four tires and stamping down the inner edge of the rut ahead of the mired front tire to give it
every opportunity to be able to climb out and back onto the roadway.