“I heard a rumor there might be beer back at the ranch,” Tony said earlier. I thought he meant his house (or maybe I didn’t hear right) until he hands me any icy IPA from a cooler at the truck. Nice! What a good neighbor.
After the brambly track along Moore Creek, it was speedy desert trails back to the truck. Darkness falls quickly after we’ve loaded up and are heading home.
We look out the windows at the dimming sagebrush sea and wonder what drew the original settlers to stop here rather than continue to greener pastures (literally) in Oregon or California. Gold for some, obviously, but the purpose of isolated cabins far away from all else is less obvious.
Riding through the world of a century ago, of another epoch, reminds us how hard life has been, how much we can be glad for today.