Carne Mountain to High Pass (page 29)

Post-trip addendum

Trinity

I shuffled into Trinity with a mixture of fatigue and relief at ending the physical ordeal, and sadness over the end of what had really been a pretty super-good trip. Things also got more complicated.

Prior to actually arriving at my destination, I had only worried about placing one little bootie in front of the other whilst keeping my physical bulk centered above and upright. Now, as I approached the weather-beaten buildings nestled along the Chiwawa River, I pondered over what to say to the occupant of the caretaker's cabin. I didn't want to sound helpless, needy, or stupid. And I most certainly didn't want to be pushy. But I had no way out and was totally dependent upon getting a complete stranger to help me out of my predicament.

But first things first. I was thirsty and there was a wonderfully deep, cold, green pool near the buildings. It looked to be a fish pond but a little fish slime never hurt anyone. I dipped in my water bottle and glugged it full. A few trout darted below, seemingly curious about this midday intrusion.

I took off my pack, then Mica's, and lay them both on one of the two wooden benches positioned next to the pool. It was now time for the unavoidable plea for assistance. There were two cabins which appeared to be occupied. One looked to be a dormitory-type facility, the other a single-family unit. I approached the latter and rapped on the screen door. No one answered except the cat, who hopped up onto the windowsill and eyed me suspiciously.

Suddenly the injustice of it all came crashing down upon me. I had kept myself together for the last two days, hiked out in a throbbing fog of pain, and now the damned caretaker had the gall to not be home? I stumbled back over to the fishpond, sat down on one of the benches and promptly proceeded to feel sorry for myself. What was I going to do now? Mica whimpered softly and her warm brown eyes were filled with concern over my obvious agitation.

Then guess who came crashing down the trail? Why, it was my good-Samaritan horsemen. 'Hot damn!' I thought to myself. 'They're going out early and I'll be able to get a ride into town with them after all.'   But, nooooo. They were just going to head up to another area they wanted to scout. These guys were real winners; figuring out where to go so they'd be able to comfortably murder some deer the following week was a real priority for them.

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