Thursday, July 18, 2013
A seemingly warm and sunny morning ahead, we take the high trail. It appears to be the road less traveled, and we are the only people for miles, possibly some of the only souls on Unicorn Mountain this particular morning.
We walk, we talk, the dogs hunt.
Then the rain comes, cold and hard. The road fills with water. The rescuer, also known as the husband, posts the dogs and I near a cluster of pinyon trees, (to shelter us from the wind-driven hail), and runs the quarter-mile distance to the truck. He races back to retrieve his family and it's down to drier country for the day.
Unicorn Mountain kicks our cold, wet butts.