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Retrospect: May 2006
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After that last unpleasant trip out of the canyon, it would be several more months before I would wish to try again. This new outing was a mission for wood, a very practical reason to override the memory of that last adventure. Virgil had since introduced us to Earl, a fellow who seemed interested in buying our big dualie truck. Even though we would be taking a 4 digit hit on it so soon after buying it, I was elated. These roads where single axle utility pick-ups reign with their deeply imprinted ruts was no place for a wide tracking truck. On one earlier occasion, knowing that Mark would be returning to the canyon with the dualie, I stopped repeatedly to clear off the small boulders that the single-axled boys had barely plowed between. Add in the taut suspension that danced and slammed to the cadence of the washboards and I was ready for a change. Earl was looking for a heavy duty hauling truck for his wife's horse trailer but didn't want to lay out that big a sum of cash. On the other hand, he operated a small sawmill ... and we would be needing wood, lots of it down the road.
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Virgil came to the rescue and lent us his large trailer, a well beaten but solid affair so we followed Earl's directions with a short cut through the reservation. The roads were rough but dry, the new scenery pleasing and, in little over an hour, we found ourselves back on pavement and heading to the small mountains that Earl calls home. Earl and his wife Skeeter came out to greet us with a warmth most people reserve for old friends and then gave us a tour around their idyllic homestead. A beautiful log home milled by his father, big boy toys everywhere, a Noah's Ark of animals at every turn. In the fenced yard, I noticed a whirling lapidary of fur with a bright orange patch emerging every now and then from the auburn and white patches. Unbeknownst to me then, Brou was part of that multi puppy tangle mauling a small orange kitten in playfully benign rough housing. His love of pestering and mouthing cats had already been set in stone.
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The big boy toy tour was as equally enjoyable. Earl had acquired all the right stuff to make a guy envious; BIG trucks, BIG loaders, BIG generators, BIG saw mill equipment. Then came the fun part of picking out stacks of wood from his collection. Skeeter was equally at home with the mill operation and tallied her tape measure calculations as we proceeded. About half way through this process, I noticed a cloud of slate gray smoke billowing up from the nearby mountain. With some unease, I asked "Uhm, is that normal, is someone burning garbage?". All being engrossed in our wood seeking mission, I was farted off without fanfare. But there are times when my observations should be heeded.
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To be continued.
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