After setting up the last wing barrel on Friday, just a couple miles from Independence Rock, the heeler sisters and I headed around through Fremont Canyon to swing by and check the blue grouse barrels in the Seminoes.

And found this:

in the middle of the road as we started down.

Now, I apologize for this picture, because it does not do justice to the situation these two gentlemen are in. But the shot was taken surreptitiously, while I was supposedly reaching into my rig for my gloves. It would be rude to let these guys know I was taking a picture of their predicament, for later enjoyment.

What we have here is a boat on a trailer, stretched completely across the narrow canyon road. The back of the boat reached the left barrow ditch, which then climbs into a steep embankment.

In front of the truck is about two meters of level shoulder, and then the ground drops off immediately down into the canyon. Of course, that doesn't help these guys, because they have buried the truck's rear wheels into the soft gravel. It is a 4-wheel drive truck, but is apparently one of the models where the front wheels need to roll, at least a few inches, for the front hubs to engage.

Which cannot happen here.

So they're stuck. Cross-ways on a blind curve, on a steep grade.

Wife's first question upon seeing this pic was "How did they do that?"

I don't know, and I didn't ask. That also would have been embarrassing and rude.

What they are trying to do, and have apparently been doing for some time before I got there, is disconnect the boat trailer from the truck.

But the two vehicles are at such an angle that the metal parts are binding together, and will not separate.

Don, the son, was trying to jack up the receiver hitch, while at the same time his 82-year old father was using a handyman jack to lift the boat trailer.

It wasn't working.

What they needed was a fresh perspective.

Add to this, Don, the driver, was wearing swimming goggles.

Now, I didn't say anything about that, because what people choose to wear is their business. But he chose to explain to me that he had broken the temples of his glasses, and he needed to wear the goggles, with the glass frames inside, to see.

I pointed out that they probably kept the wind and dust out of his eyes. Kind of handy today, when you're crawling under a truck on the edge of a canyon.

He liked that explanation.

It was about this time they mention they used to live in this state. And I see the license plate. Green, of course. I ask where they're from, and Don answers "Denver."

'I'm sorry', is my immediate response (I say that to everyone who mentions being from Denver).

Don stares at me like he can't believe what I said. But his dad mutters, almost under his breath, "Sometimes we are, too."

At this point, they were no longer trying to unhitch the trailer, and were instead trying to remove the hitch itself from the receiver on the truck.

Good idea, but it still doesn't do anything about the weight of both vehicles pressing down on both the hitch and the receiver. He pulls the pin holding the receiver, and nothing comes loose. Even with all three of us tugging on the trailer.

I suggest using his scissors jack to lift the whole back end of the truck. So that the receiver and tongue will be level And am promptly ignored. So I press again, and finally Dad figures out what I'm talking about. And he's sold. So we have to convince Don. After one more testosterone-fueled session of needlessly spinning the tires deeper into the gravel, he's ready to try my idea.

And it works. Back end of the truck goes up, the hitch pops loose, and we pull the trailer back.

Now, we're on a steep, steep grade here. And they swivel the boat trailer so it is aimed uphill.

Which means the back end is aimed straight downhill. And I'm the only one who doesn't let go, and suggests that maybe we should stop the wheels with some rocks.

After that, it was a simple matter of driving the truck out, pointed uphill in front of the boat. Once it was hooked up, it was handshakes all around.

And much to their credit, they immediately did a check of all trailer lights before heading up out of the canyon.

Stopped at the bottom of the canyon to give the heelers a walk, and to take a look at our new river. Quite impressive. A good flow, with wonderful ripples and well-vegetated grass banks. Even a couple marshy places, which the heelers naturally found. Not sure if they're there by design or not. Going to be fun watching this river grow.

Didn't take the time to stop at the Bridge in the canyon. Couple trucks in the parking lot, with a whole gaggle of people gathering their climbing gear under the lone pine. Another climber just retrieving rope from the cliffs. It is Friday, after all.

The place is still alive, even if it doesn't always feel that way.

Actually had a few blue grouse wings in the barrels at the Miracle Mile and on Morgan Creek.

And the leaves are changing: