Ron Walker
We’ve been in one spot for far too long. If I were a tree, I’d have moss on my north side. A plan hatches. The backroad to Bridgeport circles around and eventually passes the Mountain View Barbecue in Walker. If we leave right now, we’ll make it in time for dinner. Fortunately, Orllyene is on my side and off we go.
The sky is threatening just enough to make the trip interesting. We live in such an airconditioned world that being at the whim of nature on a two-lane backroad is exciting. Orllyene and I scarcely speak for the first 20 minutes of the drive. She is reading a Breck’s Spring Catalog of daffodils, tulips, and hyacinths. I fidget around with the cruise control until we leave Smith Valley and then manual control because of the curves.
As we pass the dirt road leading to Hawthorne, a pasture of Black Angus cattle are doing what they do best; graze. The road straightens and I release my grip on the steering wheel. We are now free of people, cars and responsibilities. I glance in the rear-view mirror above me. I needn’t have, it’s empty. This is the route the Hunewill Cattle Drive takes each Fall, and identify with them and their five-day adventure. An idea drifts into my mind. I slow my venerable Lexus (c.2005) and soften my foot on the gas pedal. Why am I driving so fast?
A thought enters my mind. “I wonder what would happen if I slowed way down and kept my eye on the rear-view mirror, for safety’s sake? I glance to my right. Orllyene is dosing. I will be alone in my adventure and implement my plan. For a second, I visualize myself riding in a covered wagon but the whole point of this is to literally see what is around me and I stop my imagining. For instance, the jumble of boulders stacked up to my right looks as if it is just waiting for a chance to tumble down. They look so patient waiting for a chance to avalanche on us. On the other side of the canyon or whatever this gash in the mountains is called, looms above under my sun visor. All the while, the East Walker River ripples along, mile after mile. My eyes catch the “Curve-20mph” sign and I slow down and glance in my rear-view mirror.
I peek at Orllyene; she’s dosing quietly, missing my experiment in slow driving. It’s just as well. I’m not sure she wouldn’t call it a touch of insanity.
Rows of snowy peaks fill the skyline in front of us and a gorgeous lake stretches out in to our right. So much beauty in one place. How blessed we are. The scene is a classic. A circle of white pelicans sits in a circle, looking as if they are holding a meeting. Lucky them, they have a permanent view of a magnificent skyline.
Minutes later we pull into the back parking lot of Bridgeport’s country store for postcards, Coke in a tall old fashioned glass bottle and a 7-Up. While walking up the aisle to the cashier, I notice a can Yuban coffee. Times don’t change much in Bridgeport and that’s why we’re here.
Later, we make it to Jeff’s Mountain View Barbecue and have a delicious hamburger. It’s been a great day.
Ron Walker can be reached at walkover@gmx.com
