It's All Downhill From Here...

Heading down into the Jocko from the Nine-pipes area, I see the road below wobbling away at the end. They must have plotted it along a cow-path or a drunken cowboy's way home on a Saturday night. Odd because it looks straight as string when you're heading up this way.
Although I've traveled this road a thousand times, I always see it through a stranger's eyes. I marvel at the mountains beside me and ahead...the low rainclouds swooping down the flanks of the high Missions.
Several years ago, I came through here in the blackest night and a swirling blizzard...the road had disappeared. I felt just a bit disoriented but knew the road was straight and there is a little town at the top of this hill. If you stop during a blizzard, you're lost...this is a 2-lane road with logging trucks that go fast no matter what, but I was quite alone that night. Jamming Tatonka into 4-wheel drive, we began to climb; bucking through wind-whipped snow that had drifted across the road. I didn't even know I was in the town until I saw the garish casino-gas station-convenience store weakly trying to blast its neon and spotlights through the swirling snow. The Indians in the store said I was nuts to be out there. I said I only had 22 more miles to go...they said they'd pray for me. I filled up for more weight and took off. Less than a mile out of town, the storm was gone and the snow became a million stars. I drove on through the night by moonlight and the grace of those behind me.