The day started quite well. Having woken early with no real stops ahead of us we decided to take our time getting a move on. The owner of the station, Paula, was working as well which gave us an opportunity to thank her personally.
After reading for some while we finally decided to head off around 10 or 11. Going around the first few bends we found ourselves on a long stretch going steadily up hill. It phased us not and up we went, slowly but surely, merrily chatting through the heat and steepening hill. Occasionally we’d make a stop to rest, and for a while we had a bull wondering aimlessly toward a heard of cows miles away that we watched only to see him get half way there and turn around to head back. Strange.
Several miles into it our road finally turned and we passed a place called Owl Canyon where we hoped for something but found only a bend in the road. The mountains closed in on us there and we were guided through steep walls of rock on either side for a few hundred feet which fascinated us. Emerging out the other side the wind had picked up some and white clouds had become much greyer and thicker. We dared ourselves a break as we surveyed the weather but did nothing about it and soon trekked on.
Not more than a few steps after we started up again we began to feel some drops here and there. Looking up, there was a giant grey cloud directly above us and clear blue sky ahead and behind. It was nothing more than a few drops so we decided not to suit up for rain but see if we could trudge out from under this gloomy friend.
Still further uphill we went and by the next bend, a mile or so later, not only did we get a much needed down turn but also the glimpse of a place we’d been waiting for. This place was The Forks. Back in the Heartland Café, in Loveland, our waitress told us of this pit stop and more than ever we had been anticipating a good dinner there amidst the wild. It was another two miles down the slope as I egged Ang on that it was only a few more steps for indoors and good food. Mind you she was still greatly pleased with this venture but the feet were aching, knees a-dying, and back a-hurtin’. The Forks a welcome place indeed.
We had a grand time. A bluegrass band was playing that night and the manager was having a birthday doling out free cake for the lot of us. The place steadily filled as we had our meal and the band took an interest in our unusual plight. After doing a few sets and the place had filled one of the band members that had a particular interest in us invited me up to tell everyone there what we were doing. That was kind of fun, but I made it short and sweet feeling a bit self conscious about announcing it so officially.
Wind began banging our upstairs windows and soon rain accompanied it pelting at a diagonal slant for a brief drizzling torrent. We listened on for a bit more than decided we should skip the cake and get a move on to beat the onslaught of rain that might come. Down at the deck below we suited up for the weather and in a sudden shift of frustration at an improperly sized pack cover Ang began to melt down at things going wrong.
It was from here the beginning of a lethal fate was forming. Four miles to go to make fifteen we trotted on in silence for a bit. The sun was setting, the rocks reflecting a soft red everywhere we looked, yet tension was so thick in the air we dared not breath too deep. After a mile or two it began to vent; at first it seemed for venting’s sake, to let off steam, then a serious tone began to develop.
Three miles in I was suddenly answering questions I had no answers for. A quarter of a mile beyond that I was answering them quite poorly and shallowly, my mind fluttering with anxious confusion, but soon all conversation shut down as I answered horribly wrong and we walked on a bit more in dead silence.
The sun was behind the mountains now and I was desperate for the silent tension to end whether by resolution or slumber. The tent was pitched quickly, the bags laid out individually, and without resolution we ended our day.