She warned me there'd been "some rocks" that had fallen on the road.

Well, that happens fairly often in this canyon. "How will they get them off the road?" she asked.

Well, I'm sure they have the equipment for it. And, after explaining what our telemetry gear is and how it works, I slipped through the gate and strolled up between the narrow canyon walls, listening for the beeps from radio collars on two bighorn ewes that had been hanging around these cliffs.

And I found the rocks.

I can see why the woman from Colorado was concerned. That's a lot of rocks. The crew manning the dam had parked on this side and hiked in to their jobs. Not only will it take special equipment to get that pile off the road, they'll probably have to find some way to knock the loose rocks off the cliff above before they dare send workers in to reopen the road.

I scramble quickly over the new barrier and continue upriver.

Still no beeps.

And even quicker, I scramble back to the other side.

The last email said they expected 18 people on the tour. So, in addition to scouting for bighorn sheep with radio collars to show off, I also looked for places where you could park five or six vehicles.

Four people showed up.

The plan was to have a barbecue out in the country, a chance for everyone to hear about our project, and prepare themselves for Wednesday's big meeting.

The guy responsible for the food decided not to bring any.

Probably just as well since we only had six people total. But if the original head count had been anywhere near correct, he might have been in trouble.

As we left town, a severe thunderstorm advisory was aired. For just exactly the place we were headed to.

Yeah, we went anyway. The hail was kinda fun.

Although the guy with the new fancy pickup lagged back a little then.

With the absence of barbecue, and most town restaurants closing at seven, the attendees preferred to keep the tour short.

So short they got.

And we kept our little local Mexican place open after hours.