Left early yesterday after a small little set back at the house. Once my passport was re-found, I said goodbye to Tom with a big hug and a kiss. The send off was rather uneventful, rain clouds and fog hung low over the gray road all the way to Rawlins. A few times I was a little worried as far as the comfort of the kite festival. While driving through a sleepy Loveland, I smiled as I passed a man walking along the sidewalk. In one hand was a fresh cup of coffee, in the other, two red reniculas whose heads bobbled outside their newspaper wrapping. Outside of Fort Collins the sky began to box in and fog banks filled every valley. I barely noticed when I had crossed into Wyoming. A few times the sky cleared up enough for me to see the base of the wind towers or the lone male antelope in the middle of the plains. All the while Steve Inskeep was on the radio telling me of life on the Pakistan-India border.
Fifty miles east of Rawlins I crossed the Snowy Range and ran into a wall of wet snot. The thought crossed my mind that this trip, at least the part to Rawlins, was going to be a big mistake.
No comments:
Post a Comment