Slightly uncommonly early the dogs were out, we were closing up, packing ice chests,

draining water, loading selves and up

to Dean’s for brief farewells

then down the road, through the mountains

to a cold stop for lunch at Black Mesa Reservoir and just about done with the Rockies

when I intersected a state trooper cresting Cerro Summit coming south, radar on and…

That over with we changed drivers in Montrose and soon after Linda, failing to slow through Olathe*, was pulled over by the local cops and given her own ticket as dogs watched…

She subsequently proceeded most cautiously through Delta and the entire wearisome way

to Grand Junction until the Interstate after which we fielded a pleasant facetime call from Enrico

while turning towards the glare on our way to the Trail through Slime,

much overused and ill-maintained these days.

Then it was into Utah and less promising weather

although the worst came once we emerged from the clouds and pointed directly into the sun until another cloud-bank east of Salina afforded some relief…followed by darkness, wetness,

nowhere to let beasts out, rain and the long haul out of state to Nevada for lamb stew and sleep. Early morning light roused the dogs, the dogs roused us and as Linda foraged for warm

bevs in the casino a trucker was spotted exiting the office with takeaway food and two minis of whiskey for the trip east while we went west with motel tea and coffee towards gas in Ely

and fresh simple breakfasts at the Mennonite Deli in Eureka.

A bit out of Eureka and off the highway we located a perfect not overly muddy [the entire landscape soaking from recent snows] new spot for us and dogs to run free mid-morning

before venturing into increasing overcast

until just past noon when, just out of the Dixie Valley as the sun returned,

we turned off to wander across the mining-damaged saddle and igneous scatter as jets lazily circled above prior to our descent towards “civilization”.

I’d loved waking up and walking out into the morning’s silence but the closer we got to the western edge of the state the creepier and uneasier it seemed.  Beyond Fallon things deteriorated rapidly, typically, predictably…”Get Over It” bumper stickers proliferated and the unending garbage gleaming in the low sun all the way to Reno merely exacerbated my problem.

Then there was Reno, buzzed and wasted from the road but with a nice evening with friends at the Washoe Public House to look forward to. I finally called on the supposedly still available Perfect 2006 Tundra over in Sacramento, only to discover it had inherent vice – East Coast Rust. Sigh.   In the gathering dark we went to dinner, unfortunately upon arrival being immediately confronted by loudly unrelenting verbal abuse from an all-American [in the current sense of the New Civility] dipshit who’d stormed out from his happy hour perch inside the pub to accuse us of having “bumped’ his truck in parking, the profanity and harassment only increasing when we demonstrated that contrary to his deranged opinion nothing had damaged his “expensive”** vehicle, incontrovertible evidence being that not even the dust on his bumper nor the dirt on ours was in any way disturbed…and duly photographed.  At which point he shoved his phone-camera in my face in an escalating obscenity-laced attempt to provoke a reciprocal reaction.  This was sufficiently unnerving that I didn’t think to suggest he should “Get Over It”, though I did manage to restrain myself from sharing what I thought of his asshole behavior for the benefit of whomever his intended social media followers might be.  Insult to injury we were seated next to him inside until the 1/2 price happy hour clock ran out and he left, allowing us to at last relax, enjoy excellent foods and a good time with our friends but, jeez, not a great way to come in off a 1000 mile drive.

After a not entirely great sleep the dogs again woke early to be walked, fed and loaded in the truck for an easy drive over the hill to Auburn where Awful Annie’s, despite the kitsch, ain’t so awful at all, breakfast-wise. Better than last year when we were there awaiting word from Deputy Krush about the break-in at Wall Spring, for sure…

Linda drove the last stretch of always stupid Cali valley traffic to reach Benicia by about eleven

for unloading, unpacking, collapsing and dinner down First, early and easy…

Home again, again another home.

 

* Olathe corn a great summer favorite of ours

**an apparently off-the-rack late model Tacoma, though perhaps he’d opted for the gold-plated shock absorbers?