Had to go into town a little before five o'clock. To drop off the film from our elk flight for processing, and to get an invoice from one of my wardens.

Knew right away the interstate was closed. Could see semis parked on it from the porch. The patrol had semis lined up for one entire lane for the three miles from the east exit to the west. Not too surprising. Day got above freezing, so the asphalt was warm, and the winds had kicked up to blow the snow around and knock visibility down to near zero. And lay a layer of ice on the warm pavement.

Called the wife and warned her to take the old highway home. She already knew, been listening to the radio. Interstate going east had been closed off and on all day for accidents. What locals call the dreaded Sno-chi-Minh Trail.

Most of you are too young to get that joke.

The semi that crashed and dumped his load of cattle on the highway around one o'clock was the final straw.

You can't get there from here. At least not any more today.

When I came home an hour later, the semis were backed up another half mile. And they were filling the second lane with parked vehicles.

Tuesday night is the weekly meeting of our youth group. When we went in to town we now had two solid lanes of parked semis for three miles, and single file for another two miles. On the way in, we were wondering if we would even have a meeting.

See, our meeting place is the old armory. When the National Guard left, we were the first outfit to move in. When the county took ownership and converted the building into the Red Cross emergency shelter, some tried to get rid of us.

But we were there first. They did successfully kick us out of the nice carpeted offices, and then out of the classroom. They have in the past few months been trying to get us out of the barracks room into the garage.

In with the Sheriff's Office disaster and confiscated vehicles.

I'm sure the boys could have fun with those.

But as we pull up, we see the armory is not being used as a shelter. No one there but our folks.

A half hour into our meeting we hear voices in the offices. Lots of voices. And are told, less than politely, that we have to get out. They need to open the shelter.

The best rebuke to rudeness is kindness.

We told them if they gave us a couple minutes to finish business, we would be out to help set up. And we did.

Most of the Red Cross volunteers failed to show. So the 12 of us cleared the town's baseball crap out of the gymnasium and set up over 160 beds and cots. And poured coffee. And directed folks to the latrines, the phone, and the offices. And sorted the single men into the armory vault (really), women with young children into the barracks, and everyone else first come, first served in the gym.

Four busloads of stranded travelers, and about a dozen other vehicles. Quite a cross-section of America. More racial diversity in that room than you could find in our entire town. Conversations in Spanish, Vietnamese, and I believe, Laotian. Families in their grubs, young New Yorkers dressed for, well, I don't know what they were dressed for, but it wasn't a winter blizzard in the Rockies.

One whole bus must have been seniors. Never seen so many people on walkers in one day.

As usual, if you're wearing a uniform, folks expect you to know what was going on. Usually did. Didn't know how to answer the man who asked if his gear would be okay in the bus overnight.

Didn't want to tell him one of our leaders went out to lock his vehicle when he saw all these out-of-towners arrive.

One absolutely stunning woman, dressed as if for a business meeting, or a glamorous date, in a lovely suit and high heels. She was worried about being in a top bunk. Wife showed her how to tuck the blankets in under the mattress on one side, so at least you know you won't fall out that way.

Wife told me later the young woman was Russian. Headed to college at my old Alma Mater. Half way around the world, so close now, and yet so far.

Visited with other folks trying to get to New York, New Jersey, Philadelphia and Houston. And, of course, Colorado.

Stayed until the Red Cross didn't need us any more. They were appreciative. We'll see how long their memories last.

On the way home the wife had to flash the lights at a vehicle on the street out front of the armory. Going down the wrong way on a divided four-lane. Apparently confused by all the snow drifts. Got a quick peek at their plate.

New York.

Know where they were trying to end up for the night.

Also passed a cop car leading a convoy of four out-of-state vehicles through town. Know where they were going, too.

Quick survey of the east end of town conservatively estimated 150-160 semis in the parking lots.

Six miles of semis on the eastbound interstate lanes on the way home. One tremendously long red and amber glowworm. Parked three abreast for most of the front three miles.

Nice to be home.