We were supposed to have snow on the ground in the morning.

We didn't.

Which made it just that much harder to try to stay in bed after the alarm went off. So, a few minutes after six o'clock, and late for the morning, the heeler sisters and I were off, headed to check strutting grounds in the gas fields.

But as we neared the Continental Divide, we ran into the storm front that was supposed to come through during the night. Running just a few hours tardy. On the Divide itself, we found fog.

On the other side, as we entered the great basin, the interstate dropped below the clouds. But they had left a residue of slippery ice and snow. The warm bed we'd left looked even more inviting as we passed Ray's tow truck, extracting a roll-over from the shoulder.

Five miles further on, as we neared the climb up onto the top of the flat hills, I could see a semi slowly disappear into the fog again, its emergency lights flashing.

This is not good.

And moments later the sleeping heelers popped up to see why we had come to a complete stop. And where the heck this parking lot had come from in the middle of the highway.

Traffic is still flowing in the east-bound lanes

and even included a Highway Patrolman, who I soon heard over the radio, asking for the tow truck, which is still busy with the roll-over five miles back.

And canceling the ambulance that was already en route to our accident. Which is a good thing. Moments later the same patrolman, now on our side of the interstate, passes us on the shoulder, headed to the front of our traffic jam. Followed by a Humvee with out-of-state plates.

If he thinks he's just going to skirt around the jam, he's in for a surprise. But his vanity plate had "EMT" in it, so perhaps he's just trying to be useful.

Moments later an ambulance comes up on my left bumper, and bails across the median, headed back to town. Which is exactly what I had been considering doing, because there are strutting grounds behind us, too. If there's going to be a long delay going west, I can always go east to find work to do.

And looking ahead

a long delay is looking likely. Line's getting long behind us, too.

Another option is turn back three miles and get on the old highway roadbed, which parallels the interstate here. Have to open a couple gates and drive through Joe's yard, but I could get ahead of this mess.

Seconds after I considered this idea, a pickup truck came barreling along on the old roadway. A gas field company truck. Those guys, at least, will probably get to work on time.

Time to turn around.

Once on the other lanes, I can look back at the scene. Our patrolman is stopped at the bottom of the hill, presumably at an accident scene, but traffic is backed up all the way up the hill.

Apparently we're all stopped because the semis can't climb the icy slope, and are sliding back on themselves.

All the more reason to go east, and not west.

At the next exit, I head north. And in less than a mile we find ourselves above the banks of fog.

Including the fogbank full of semis trying to climb a hill.

But we and a pronghorn buck found ourselves in a different world.

A world of white and bright sun. Looking down on the sun's rays beating on the tops of the fog banks.

The white around us wasn't really snow, and it wasn't really frost. Near as I could tell, looking at some bunny tracks in the road, the precip had come down in tiny little snowballs.

Don't recall ever seeing those so thick before.

A few miles on we hit the first gate. Which thrilled the heelers, because it also meant...

The first drag race of the morning.

Followed shortly by the second race, at the second gate.

After the second gate, we're near the strutting ground, but have to work our way through a few ranchettes.

Presumably abandoned now, by folks who found out this isn't a civilized place. Or maybe not, maybe they're planning on coming back. You never know, but odds are, they aren't.

Like whoever set up this tepee, photographed and posted when I checked this lek last spring.

But the grouse had this land claimed before the tepee owners, and this morning I found 73 cocks strutting away in their usual spot.

But, with our late start and the delays on the interstate, most of the strutting was already done for the morning. And within minutes, birds began taking off, heading out to feed.

Before heading home, I made a quick check of the abandoned tepee. No bodies inside, fortunately, but still plenty of firewood. And the rugs and cooking pots of someone who clearly expected to come back. But the old newspapers inside indicated it has been some time since anyone stayed here.

Returning to the truck, we found the remaining grouse still strutting away, unperturbed by me, the truck, the tepee, or the two domestic canids with orange bandannas.

As we headed off the high ground, the heelers got opportunity for a couple more drag races.

Even as fog rolled in on us.

As we passed yet another ranchette...

(why do they all accumulate tons more vehicles and appliances than any person could wear out in ten lifetimes?)

I spotted an unusual dark shape.

A golden eagle. Here for the abundant rabbits around the urban refuse, no doubt. But somehow incongruous by a mountain of old tires.

Then it was back into the sunshine, past the pronghorn again...

And home.

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