I've known it wouldn't last.

The invitation to this annual meeting high in the northern mountains was always tied to our bighorn sheep transplant into our southern mountains.

Barring that connection, I wouldn't need to be there. And certainly not need to drive over five hours clear across the state.

Our bighorn sheep are in, now. My only hope was that the group might want an update on how they're doing.

They do.

A fact I only learned late last week. But in just moments, I'll be jumping in the truck and heading on a long drive north. But I will not be able to stop here

on this trip.

The highway is gone.

Not just closed... gone.

A short piece of it, anyway. Another victim of our exceptionally wet winter and spring, an unpassable chunk is just sliding down the mountainside on super-saturated soils.

Like the 600 yards of roadway lost on the southern highway. Or the quarter-mile buried by mudslides by Jackson. Or the southern county road washed away by an overwhelmed reservoir.

According to the website, my best, scenic route to the mountain rendezvous is closed.

Which leaves a 25-mile detour up to the Feral Horse Town, and passing by the Medicine Wheel.

Cool.

Shoulda left already, though. Adds almost an hour to the trip.

But just for fun, I checked Google. Their software pointed out I could save an hour by going to Central City and then up the east side of the mountains, mostly on Interstate.

Boring, boring interstate. And one short stretch of mountain highway that I first saw in 1973, and have driven maybe, once, since?

So.

Five hours of interstate, with no canyons and a nostalgic drive along the Little Bighorn or...

Six+ hours of 2-lane highways through desert, canyons, farmland and high mountains?

Geez. Gotta go.

I'll have 45 miles of highway to decide...