We soon left the idyllic for…well,

Gardner,

Westcliffe and the windy but clear roads over

Monarch, pulled in at Stephen’s Camp just behind a truckload of Labs [three] and one tiny mutt [none shown], each of whom individually paid their respects to Aggie as we lunched before

descending to

the Western Slope, where the belief systems appear to be singularly

contradictory.   Was pride not once a sin according to Christians?…and weren’t racism,

intolerance and misogyny originally frowned upon as well?

Ah, these 21st Century Religions…

[almost] needless to say the PWCM at the wheel of the big ugly 4x4x4door was a scrawny little twerp with scraggly facial hairs, after whom Utah was an uncommon relief.

A relief including, but not limited to, sighting the Bridges of Grand County over which on the old two-lane I’d rolled with my friend Tony eating out of a shopping bag full of amphetamines destined for Aspen during spring break 1964 and where upon arrival the love of my life was discovered in Bed with a Dentist, but that’s another story.  Fifty-five years on and

[belated Vanishing Point segue here] going the other direction we proceeded unimpeded past

Green River and the rest until maybe

half an hour out of Salina when, light failing, low fuel light aglow and snow flurries sticking and building to the point where fuel-squandering four wheel drive became necessary, we barely reached the first slushy truckstop for gas in the nick.  I drove from there, snow at times, fourwheel at times, whiteouts sometimes but beyond Delta the storm abated sufficiently

to tempt us to the border, all clear [save that last canyon, last range before Nevada, which was snowing again and a little slippy], arriving EXACTLY ten and a half hours after leaving Libre for chili, two kinds of chicken [kinda tough chicken but the chili was good], two glasses of merlot and in the room two garbled voicemails from an “unknown caller” out of Reno I didn’t bother to return…Utah news, fuzzy TV, slept several times woke several times and before eight we were

chasing the school bus towards Ely, slick on the passes, dry in Spring Valley, cold as hell getting gas…the window washing stuff all frozen solid at the pumps.   Between Ely and Eureka

the same road conditions [wide open and dry down low, on the passes snow, ice and occasional flurries], the “unknown caller” called, claimed to be with the Washoe Sheriff’s office, claimed there’d been break-ins on the Smoke Creek and what sorts of guns and valuables did we have out there but the line went dead as L was explaining we had a caretaker…seemed like a scam so

when we finally settled in to breakfast in Eureka [the Owl no longer serves it but the Pony Express Deli up the street was totally fine] I called Dave’s caretaker Twisto to advise him [prickly as usual he nonetheless promised to deal with it] as well as Dave, left a message…just then Unknown Caller called again and turned out to be the totally legitimate Sgt. Kevin Krush out of Reno with an alarming tale about a child-molesting ex-SEAL ex-cop on what sounded like a crime spree up in Gerlach and down the desert who’d abandoned a stolen motorhome opposite Wall Spring and been living there for days until after causing some disturbance at Bruno’s he was chased out of town by the local deputy who was thrown off the trail when the suspect threw his girlfriend out of the car, a brilliant diversion…I gave Twisto’s number to Kevin, called to tell him the thing was legit and that the cops had said to stay away but he wasn’t going to change his plan…finished breakfast, texted Dave to say please try to dissuade him and then Kevin to ask if we should come up; he said yes.  In the parking lot it was snowing hard; we let Aggie briefly out and headed west, in and out of weather.  After Austin the roads were dry

so L. drove from Antelope, Dave checked in to say Twisto’d done a recon, found nothing

disturbed aside from the gates but we were still set to go on to Wall and meet the cops until just west of Fallon he called again to say the Deputy’d said not to come up [and had they called me yet, which they hadn’t],

but Kevin eventually got back in touch to say “You’re good.  Just finishing up the paperwork”.

So in Fernley we readjusted our course, reinstated our motel res and went on in to Reno.

Everything seemed fine until around six when Dave called to say Twisto’d been out with the SWAT team, my truck had been driven [meaning they’d found the keys], the house had been used for several days, they’d “drunk all the booze”, used the shower, eaten the food and who knows what all.  Shit; why’d Kevin said it was ‘good’?  So despite a pleasant enough dinner of ordinary Italian at La Cucina a worrisome night ensued punctuated, in addition to morbid speculations [keys missing, crabs in the bed, misused ’82 Chev, what all], by diesels warming up and roaring off in the wee hours as well as motel guests doing the same from six a.m. until we stumbled out of bed, walked the dog, grabbed warm bevs and got out of Reno

for the most effortless,

albeit chill,

crossing of the Sierra ever.  Dry pavement and scant traffic all the way

to Auburn where we stopped for breakfast  after which L took over driving while I called Kevin,

who was totally reassuring, affirming there was no damage, his guys couldn’t even figure out how they’d gotten in…food had been consumed [and “all your booze”], no keys found but the internet and phone were still functional, bed hadn’t been slept in and the motorhome towed into town as evidence.  Though traces of the Wronged Woman’s story were still seemingly warping the facts a grudging respect for the guy was beginning to surface…

I texted Dave, expressed my concern about the keys and we drove on, reaching Benicia

before noon; sunny, breezy, green and cool.  Unloaded, got the laundry going, crossed the street to Farm and Flour to try their winter chicken toast and for me a giant mug of coffee

before I unwrapped and fired up the ’45 for a trip down First ahead of the next rains.

The end of the day report put almost all doubts to rest as apparently, Twisto not having been allowed in with the SWAT on Wednesday, the cops had continued to parrot the girl’s apochryphal tales despite evidence to the contrary – Thursday morning he got in, found no disturbance, no evidence of abuse…no use of bed OR shower, a bent screen on a north window was the only sign of forced entry, all keys accounted for [including truck keys, though tracks and the County Crew both testified to its being run about] despite CSI’s missing them.  T. dubbed the perp an “immaculate bandit” and sent pics allowing me to see what remained in the fridge, etc, and take measures.  “Occupy Wall Spring”, despite the “wife” being loose in Gerlach [T., who’d earlier in the week witnessed the guy trying to trade his belt buckle for gas, apparently confronted her in Bruno’s Thursday morning] and her SEAL on the lam elsewhere, seems to have ended rather better than one might reasonably hope…