Failed Contact

I started walking down that road and right away saw signs on both sides. The first one was KEEP OUT, followed by BEWARE OF DOG, and then, NO TRESPASSING. The further I walked, the more threatening the signs became. About a mile in on the road that was now heavily bordered by young trees and steep slopes, I saw a sign that read, NO ACCESS BEYOND THIS POINT, followed by TRESPASSERS WILL BE SHOT. A feeling of dread crept over me seeing these signs, knowing whoever lived down this road and made those tracks was not the welcoming kind.

Still, I felt like I had to try and see if I could reach them by being friendly. And then, I saw another unfriendly sign--cameras. If it weren't for their solar panels, those cameras would've been hard to see, blended into the low-lying landscape of young trees and boulders. But even with the panels, they were set out in such a way that they wouldn't be easily seen by someone coming down the road who might vandalize them. Those signs had bullet holes in them. And I didn't know if those bullet holes were made by the owner of the place for target practice or not. They probably were made by unfriendly people and were quite old by the rust surrounding them… Probably three or four years old. But the cameras and solar panels were newer, undamaged and still maintained. Installed recently and mounted on or above the growing trees.

Finally, about 2 miles down the road and around a curve, I came to a sturdy gate made of metal pipe that looked like it had survived the fire and a barbed wire fence with steel fence posts that ran off to the left and to the right, defining private property. Ahead, in the distance, the road continued on through a field that looked like it was a crop of wheat heavy with grain and nearly ready for harvest, but still green at this high, cool altitude. I pulled my rifle from my back and took a look through the scope.

There was a wisp of smoke rising in front of what looked like the entrance to a mine in the hillside ahead. I could see children playing and a woman hanging laundry. There was a pickup and a car. The door entering the mine was open. I was excited beyond words to see people going about normal living when I hadn't seen anyone since Lisa and Oscar in Hot Springs. I wanted to run down that road waving and yelling that I was here and wanted to meet them. But, I had to be more cautious. The signs and surveillance had given me warning. I had to get closer without alarming them.

I followed the fence I suspected to be electrified to the right and downhill until I came to an arroyo with a stream running through it. There was evidence that the stream had been a raging torrent recently and the fence was ripped away and no longer crossed it. I easily got around the damaged fence and followed the arroyo out of sight of the mine entrance for about a half mile, and then, when I saw the hillside where the mine was very close, climbed up out of its steep slopes and reached the wheat field about 100 yards away from the mine entrance.

Daring to take a look, I pulled the rifle from my back again and pointed it in the direction of the hillside and slowly rose to my knees until the scope just barely topped the waving grain covered stalks, somewhat obscuring my view. I panned the area and saw clothes and sheets hanging on the line. The smoke of the cooking fire was so close by I could even smell it from where I was, but no woman or children and the door to the mine was closed.

And then, my enlarged view came upon a sight that scared me--a machine gun on a tripod with a man's outline behind it pointed in my direction!

I eased back down in the cover of the grain and contemplated my next move. I wanted so much to make contact with other humans. But these seemed to be unfriendly for some reason in a world where there didn't seem to be any others, or at least, very few. It didn't make any sense to me. I decided to try to make contact. I didn't have anything white to wave so I thought that I would just call out.

I yelled out at the top of my lungs. "Hello! I'm alone! I haven't seen anybody for a long time. I just want to meet you and see how you're doing!"

A man's voice yelled back. "Go away and don't come back! This is private property. We don't want your kind around here. Do you hear me! I'll shoot!"

I started to call back in response. "I'm alone! I just want to…"

I was interrupted by machine gun fire and bullets ripping through the grain. I didn't get up and run, but slid down out of his line of fire from that, what sounded like, World War II surplus 50 caliber hot lead.

The guy was clearly saving ammunition. Firing short bursts and then waiting a while. Perhaps using binoculars to try to spot me, and then firing again. The firing ended when I slipped out of sight and ran, hunched over, along the boulder strewn arroyo, following it all the way back to the highway.

I covered the two and a half miles back to the truck in record time and didn't look back to see if anyone was following me until I got to the truck. Going around behind it I pulled the rifle from my back and scoped the road. It didn't appear like anyone was following me, but I didn't want to stick around and find out. Charlie and the goats were very glad to see me like I'd been gone a lot longer. I got Charlie out of his cage, we climbed into the cab and took off. I vowed to myself that I would come back to this place in the future. Maybe they would be more amenable then. Only time would tell. When we hit the main road again, I made a mental note of where I was. A shot up sign said, Gooding. Human contact. Even bad human contact, was worth giving a second shot. Wrong choice of words… Chance.

I backtracked to I-15 north to Glacier National Park. From vistas in the park, I could see that the glaciers had grown during those two dark long winters. The warm sun was melting them again quickly and the rivers flowing below were chocolate milkshake brown from the muddy looking ice with all the dust embe dded in it. More than once, I encountered a grizzly in the road. Based on their size, I wasn't sure that my goats would be safe in the trailer if a grizzly figured out how to open the rear door. Standing up, a bear could certainly reach the handle to open it. I would have to padlock that door handle if I stayed in the park.

I didn't stay, but still locked the door at night in this high country because grizzlies were everywhere. I easily drove across the border to Waterton International Peace Park and found the facilities there burned with no humans in sight either. Animals were everywhere and sometimes I had to wait for elk or sheep in large herds to cross the road before I could work my way through. It was a good sign that predators had not decimated domesticated sheep that were now running loose everywhere in these mountains. I still had to watch my goats while they fed. Golden eagles reigned supreme in these parts. Unseen cougars were always nearby. And coyotes were sneaky in the tall grass, too. I was ready for them, but on this trip my little friends ate great in the fresh growth and Lanie was showing her pregnancy. Twins, I gathered.