I heard a lot about it when I lived in Europe. It was mostly crap, “oh stupid Ameri-cans, not bright enough to settle things with words, cow-boys”. Not to beat a dead horse, but I am willing to bet in 1945 they were thankful for our stupid cowboys with guns. I think it goes back to our formation. The future Americans had a daunting task in front of them, win freedom, settle a violent and wild land, and protect their stuff from other Americans. Whether we think so or not our society has not changed. Look at hurricane Katrina; law and order was absent for the longest period of time since the early 1900’s. Men and women alike made their own law and order, with a gun. For right or wrong even law abiding citizens, who were not zealots, were packing. Unfortunately its not normally levelheaded gun owners you read about in the news. No we are not conquering forests full of bears and angry natives, today’s wild and violent places are cities and deserted stretches of road. Do I tempt fate, traveling through bad parts of town, or taking a car that will leave me stranded on that lonely stretch between Lander and Casper Wy? No but you bet I bring a gun with me just incase, more so when I travel with people that I love. I’d rather have and not need it than need it and not have it. Incidentally the one time I did break down and would have like to have it, I didn’t, thankfully it didn’t pan out like I thought it would. We like to think we live in a time when we don’t need guns or at least that seems to be what Chicago thought, with their handgun ban. We all know if any people need guns it’s those poor folks in Chicago trying to protect their stuff. Is stuff worth a life, I’d venture to say yes. Where does that slope end? First a man takes your car, then enters your home and takes things, then maybe he takes your wife. That might be flawed thinking but that’s the attitude Americans have. We work hard for an honest living and we’ll be damned if a thug is going to take it away from us. Do we still need guns to guarantee our freedom? That’s the $64 thousand question the country is struggling with. Is the constitution insuring us the right to hunt for the right to arm our selves against our government, it’s an interesting question no doubt. I just bought a new gun, my first brand new firearm. I bought it for three reasons, hunting, protection of Liyah, and myself, and because as a history lover I was attracted by the history associated with lever-action rifles. So while I won’t be using it to win freedom and settle a violent and wild land I can’t say I don’t feel that connection every time I work the lever.

I like this picture because it reminds me of Chicago. He has a bag, maybe he's coming home from a business trip, or work, or a midnight meeting with his exotic mistress that dances at a place by the airport who's named Destiny, Desire, Candy, Brandy or Coco. I don't know and I don't care, I'm curios, but I don't really care. I would never ask him about it. That sums up the city, you pass homeless people, mentally sick people, just people in general, and you're curios but you don't really care. There is a barrier we put up in the city between us and other people, we cant see it but it's as solid as the steel door that separated myself and this man.

Some day it would be awesome to have a job where things are painted on glass doors. When people get fired the janitor would have come scrape their names off of the door. I would like the janitor to be polish and have a mustache as thick as his hilarious accent. Anyway, I just enjoying looking at this one. 

         The next morning, after a restless and cold night, we checked out what Dan had thought the night before was a potential way off the ledge. On the south side of the ledge was a wall of rock that was passable along its toe. Easily navigable in the light of day but the run out was so bad. On the south side of the wall was a steep slab coming out of the cliff, just too steep to traverse. Luckily where the slab came off the cliff was a tiny seam that was a little less steep. In addition to its eastern slope the slab gently sloped south and ended in a small platform with two trees. I call them trees, but they were about two and a half to three inches in diameter and about two feet tall, more like sticks stuck in the ground. It was here that Dan and I set the anchors for our rappel, a loop of webbing around each tree and a carabineer for each loop. Even though I was confident in our anchor building abilities, I was a little nervous as Dan loaded the rope and began his rappel. After a few minuets, when we thought Dan should be at the bottom we pulled on the rope to see if he was still on and he was. We tried to shout to him and him to us, but the wind and distance made our attempts futile. About ten minuets later the rope was free and we lowered the packs. After the packs, David rappelled and after David I descended to the valley floor. Once on the floor we laughed as we realized why it had taken Dan so long so get off the rope. From the site of our anchors we could see the valley floor, just to climbers left of a large bulge in the cliff. At the base of the cliff, obscured by the bulge, the ground dropped twenty feet into a scree slope. When Dan rappelled he passed on climbers right of the bulge causing him to dangle above the scree slope. Dan couldn’t walk him self to the ledge because the bulge would not allow the rope to slide and he was hanging away from the cliff wall about 6 feet. Dan had to untie the safety knots at the end of the rope, swing him self back and forth until he had enough momentum to rappel off the end of the rope and land on the ledge. Dan coiled the rope, we got water and we were on our way.        Hour upon hour we walked, in the dark, never seeing further than the dim arcs of illumination our lamps provided. We crossed endless highcountry desert and miles of roads to nowhere. We tried to follow them at first, but they led us away from the river and to dead ends. It didn’t make any sense. I thought to myself “where is the river, I cant hear it, when was the last time I heard it, SHIT…shit we are so lost”. Up and down, across and through, we traveled the valleys of the Windriver Reservation. With every uphill I could feel my stiff mountaineering boots tearing at the raw and bloody flesh of what was once a blistered heel, 20 miles ago. I heard once that hell is not all fire and brimstone, but a separation from God. A separation so powerful and consuming that it tortures you worse than any fire. The picture it put in my mind was of a man, floating in a void, in darkness so powerful no sound or light could possibly exist, disoriented, but with a full understanding of eternity. No one could see him to take pity on him; no one could hear him plead his case. He was doomed forever to exist in that trackless void. As I thought about that I felt a crushing hopelessness so profound it sent a chill down my spine. I felt that hopelessness again as I stared into the darkness trying to find a track in the trackless desert.

More to Come!