Last year at this time I was fully Moon Bug dependent to get up the three nearest passes to get access in or out of the ranch. This year the six inches of Thanksgiving snow has melted off, with temperatures expected to be in the fifties today. The hunters are gone. Even those longing to stay are gone; everyone is hunkering down for the winter that hasn’t started yet. It is quiet here. Peaceful. Yet it far more remote.
I took the dog to a vet yesterday, traveling to and from the house in the truck. Moon Bug sits idle, only running to keep the battery topped off; she doesn’t move. Such as this place is, the snow is gone nearly everywhere except for Schierl Road itself, still slick in spots. The first few miles escaped the Spring Fire so shade is prevalent for much of this stretch.
The remoteness is real, and I drove just a bit more cautiously as a result. The dog was with me, and he walks yards now, not miles, so he must get home. My Jeep is parked down at the access gate, prepared for the snow that is not even in the ten day forecast. Nearly everyone I know has gone elsewhere and hunkered down. It is remote, these eight miles from pavement which is twelve miles from town.
A man and his dog. We will be cautious and pay attention, but we will thrive in the remoteness as well. The silence. The space. The gift that is the ranch.