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You'll know you're almost home when you reach that pull-out on the road the one where you put your chains on - or take them off. The Rio Grande is just a creek here, head waters 90 degree angles due west at the Continental Divide. Big up country starts Now! Gear down here and begin to gather speed. Consider the laws of classical physics Force = mass x acceleration Vectors becomes a calculus of place. And in those days the road was narrow - two lanes, no guard rails. Up ahead now, there's a semi going far too slow And I have a record to break Besides I never had any use for brakes. In the mountains, use your gears. Don't brake going up. Don't burn out going down. Swing out and around, tires skittering near edge Sharp curve, 1,000 foot drop off! Pay it no mind Fear would have you look over the edge stand on the brakes, go out of control skid over and down. Drive through the fear. and keep your eyes where you want the tires to go. You are staying on the road! Then swing back in smooth and easy. It was a riff done by girl and car, road and mountain. The trucker flashes his lights - On Off! On Off ! - twice in admiration! I lift one hand from the wheel, turn and blow him a kiss. But the road claimed my attention like a jealous lover. You learn to respect the Pass listen to its demands after 7 years of travel - sometimes in winter blizzards, sometimes in sudden wash-outs of summer rain. And don't forget the occasional avalanche thrown in just to see if you are paying attention. Wolf Creek always has its moods and so do I. Today I am in love with this road, these mountains, these Spring wildflowers, which have come out just for me, watching as I take those sharp turns effortlessly - flying, accelerating into the curves, my small Suburu hugging the road tight like that lover returning home after a long absence. Two days later sitting in the faculty lounge, I'll boast to a friend - A fellow poet and a philosopher, but most of all my main competition in a serious contest - Who could drive Wolf Creek the best! "Did the entire pass averaging 50 mph," I'd say casually. He set his coffee cup down with a sound like a guantlet being flung. "Prove it!" So I did. Took a long drag on my cigarette and said "Let's go!" A couple of college teachers cutting class on a warm spring day leaving our students behind like shadows in empty class rooms. My friend had given me the music for Wolf Creek, Jean Luc Ponty's incredible jazz violin. It happened to be in my cassette deck that day I drove the Wolf Creek invitational. I hope in return I gave him good company, talking poetry and the philosophy of road advisories; dragging the main strip - Highway 160 between Pagosa Springs and South Fork, showing off how well we belonged there. The real kids behind us would return to the city, in search of better things. We'd already found them, topping the summit of that pass. Wolf Creek! Elevation 10,640 feet Chain law No longer in effect! |
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