…a bumper sticker that would have been ill-advised crossing the Red Zone in the immediate aftermath of a belligerently unacknowledged defeat, and one we chose not to exhibit Sunday

as we descended from Linda’s at Libre to

Gardner Butte and beyond

for gas in Westcliffe where the ‘puppies’ leapt exuberantly out…otherwise not much went wrong, unlike the semi we passed on the downside of Monarch as it eased, brakes burning,

onto the runaway truck ramp.  We arrived early for our lunch at Blue Mesa Reservoir

and then ran nonstop up the Slope through Montrose and Delta.  In Grand Junction the hats and boots were still going out of business [“Cowboy Rides Away”] and a small gathering of large women waved flags and “Women For Trump” signs curbside downtown.  After that it was on

to Rabbit Valley to free the Inkies, then the Utah Desert as Repuppetlicans rallied around the Belligerent One asserting the only legitimate votes are theirs and any others are de facto fraudulent [How can that be? How do dey know? Who believes them?]. Nonetheless all 70.1 million

seem to believe that’s how it is, and who they are.  It’s pretty scary [well not so pretty],

impressive, or depressive.  Seems they and Mitch are out to wreck the place, no?  No news there – sore winners are even sorer losers. We crossed the Eastern Desert

[Hanksville, Loa, Mussentuchit], got gas in Salina [NOT at Mom’s Cafe – been there, did that. Once was enough], let dogs out at dusk, passed through Scipio, Delta and then the Western one, 88 miles to the Border Inn where snow was flurrying and the inhabitants were taking the Second Wave seriously.  The steak was rubbery, the martini indecipherable and Fox News

no longer on the motel TV.  Snow eased around midnight, returned at three but didn’t leave much; most likely too cold.  Linda procured warm bevs and we left in early light, heading west.

Snake Range, Spring Valley,

over the Schell Creek Range

into Ely for gas and

Eureka where the sad news is that the Pony Express Deli will close just prior to Christmas. It was consequently our last breakfast there and last chance to procure medium chunky Mennonite Hot Sauce.  We stopped for dog relief at a place where Strange Lichens [?] had colonized

the gravelly landscape and it was as cold as it looks. Damp twenties.

Through ever-hostile Austin without pause; Eureka may have more Trump signs but we’ve never, in over thirty-five years, experienced a hospitable moment in Austin.  We never stop

there anymore and friends who have have fared worse.

Dry roads to Fallon

and fall colors after.  We paused in Fernley for a week’s food and made it

to the Gerlach P.O. a day too early for my Mysterious Package from Paul Fuge, were at

the Wall Spring gate at 3:30…unloaded, tried the pump; still leaking.

Next morning, chilly…

In Nevada.