Picture Rock, Installment One
Melt
By EZ Ryyder
The Estimated Prophet turned the key and the Rover
started. Glancing back to make
sure the dog was clear or that a moose wasn’t directly in his path, he backed up and got rolling down the backside
of the hill. I sort of looked back
too. Just to double check.
North Road goes north, as it should. At the turn, the road drops away and
gets pretty muddy. Most people
avoid a stretch like this at this time of year unless they have four-wheel
drives. Even then, it is so narrow
and the runoff has cut ruts so deep on the edges that there are two-foot
ditches where the plowed up banks used to be. When it’s dry, it’s still a pretty tight squeeze to let two
cars get by. You’re only going
about five miles per hour and you wave or nod as you pass each other. It’s close. Now, with the mud, if you move over at
the wrong spot you will sink to your axles. Even with the Rover, you’re in for a poke in the mud.
There is a low fog trapped by the redstone walls and even
though the sage is barely showing, it smells rich and pungent. Dripping and trickling, snowmelt water
runs down the road in narrow veins and where they merge, the path washes
out. I keep an eye out to be sure
the Prophet doesn’t drift away with thoughts somewhere else. He never does. But you never know.
Down past the old horse ranch the road plunges through a
little gully and then climbs right back up the other side towards a long
ridgeline. At the top of the hill
you could see the divide across the mountain valley if it weren’t for the fog
trapped by the hillside. Where the
road crosses the highway it turns to pavement but don’t think you will go much
faster. The dips and holes will
shake and buck your shocks and springs until they squeak or your fillings
rattle out. Slow going all
around.
So, you might as well look out to see if there is anything
moving where the forest meets the meadow. You could see a flock of wild turkeys
or a coyote. Maybe an elk. I don’t think you will see the
bear. Definitely call out if you
do. I haven’t seen him in a
while.
Once, he snorted at me from behind a big boulder when I was
riding my mountain bike. Actually
he growled at Marley and the dog veered off. We just kept going.
The next day I went back without the canine patrol and walked around
that big rock to the back.
Just to see if there were any signs or tracks. There was a dug out corner where the bear was digging and
some tracks. That was early last
fall. I know he is still around
because he was at Mary Anne’s feeder just last week. He’s a big old brownish-black male and I’m pretty sure the Prophet
was on the hill first but maybe not.
Rolling down to the river we come to a stop by the “put in”
spot. It’s still early in the
season and the runoff hasn’t really even started. With hardly a word, we pull our waders on over our jeans and
lace up our felt bottom boots. I
tie on a Griffith’s Gnat while the Prophet selects a twisted midge.
Next: Installment Two, Jam
© EZ Ryyder 2012
EZ Ryyder spends his time a little bit farther down the road. Past the city limits.