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07 September 2004
- 15:16 views of a point - saturday
Saturday morning, well before sunrise, I awoke to... rain. Lots and lots of rain, dripping off the roof.
So much for the opening day of antelope hunting season.
But I rose and dressed, and got the coffee made, and packed the new food box for the rig (an old typewriter case from an auction).
And then laid back on the bed and went back to sleep.
At 7:20 the phone rings. One of my wardens, the one with an antelope season that just opened an hour before. Calling to report the rain is heavy, the huge barrow ditches of the mine road are full and flowing. The desert looks like, is, a shallow lake.
Is there any point in my coming out to set up check station, I ask?
"It is opening day," he responds.
Meaning folks'll be out anyways.
"I would be," he confirms. And we've got help down from neighboring districts. If they're gonna be out suffering in the rain, we'd better be, too.
Twenty-five minutes later I'm setting my signs up on the highway. In just a light drizzle. But four miles away, inside the area open to hunt, the hills are swathed in rain and clouds. The desert floor shiny with pooled water.
And for the next twelve hours, or so, we sat right here.
It actually wasn't that long before the sun came out for us, and a small piece of the world for about three miles around. But from their radio traffic, all the wardens were working in rain.
And mud.
As were the hunters. Most were smart enough to stay in the sandy or rocky parts of the country, but some did not. Some woke in their tents in the morning to find themselves surrunded by miles of mud.
When this muddy H-2
came rolling out, I thought I had finally seen my second Humvee on a check station. But no, it was the same father and sons group that brought the expensive transport through last year.
Last year you could see what colour it was supposed to be.
Hunters weren't the only ones who had fun in the rain.
We're sitting on a juncture of the Continental Divide Trail, and the Trans-continental Trail, with a steady supply of cyclists trying to finish this middle section before the snows fall. This fellow and his three companions split ways at A&M when they awoke to rain and mud. Two stayed on the trail, and two broke ranks on a county road and headed for civilization.
The trail road is sandy. That pair arrived at this rendezvous point a good ten minutes behind the pair that took to the highway. But the pair that headed to town found mud so thick they had to walk their bikes, and wash them off with a hose in town. They even cheated (don't tell anyone) and accepted a six-mile ride from a local to Grandma's for a hot breakfast.
A half-hour after that foursome headed up the steep grade behind us, a fifth cyclist arrived. He had camped with the others during the rain, but was not so eager to start in the morning as they. And took time to have lunch and visit with me.
'Course, the foursome is just taking the leg through the green state south of us, whereas this fellow is trekking from Alaska to Terra del Fuego.
He's enjoying the trip, and not in much of a hurry.
When asked how he afforded the expense, and year and a half out of his life, he mentioned living frugally on a computer programmer's salary. And never owning an automobile. And not having a girlfriend.
He mentioned that last part, about not having a girlfriend, two or three more times in our conversation. I think the loneliness of the trail is getting to him.
But the rest of the day, I was looking at these.
That one was the largest of the day, but certainly had the prettiest prongs. Think I averaged about one an hour.
Which the heelers found to be entirely boring.
Speaking of heelers, had two other gorgeous red heelers come through the check station. One this male,
who I had met before, and then, in another outfit, an equally pretty female. Forgot to ask if the male is fixed. They live close enough he might make a good stud if we ever want the little maskless heeler bred.
But most of the day was spent watching clouds,
and listening to hunters' tales about collapsed tents in rain and hail.
And watching traffic on the highway. Well past sunset.
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