Mostly hidden by the catclaw, they ran their generator only short whiles, but STILL!! (horses watch tea-vee?)
He came straight for me and I watched in amazement as he guided the horse up the hill right to where I was. Shirtless, I thought of implementing my fav ploy: disrobing. But decided to wait.
After a no-nonsense greeting, he asked where I was from. I mentioned Nurnberg, being raised in Japan and Germany. When he commented on my lack of accent I allowed as how English was my first language, Japanese my second and German my third. (Next time I'll add I alzo schpeakinz ein kleine bit uff Spanish, Yah!) When I rejoined with the same query he mentioned Alberta. (Undoubtedly thinking no American would have any idea of even where Alberta is, he left off citing the town.)
The subject was camping spots. I have the prime one. Surprised at the traffic, I'd stopped a passerby to inquire if the road went through. He said it did not, and furthermore, these three [camp] spots, where I, the rider and some other folk,up the hill, were camped, were the best.
I asked the rider if he'd been further up the road, suggesting, gently, he might consider exploring. He, in turn, mentioned that the other road went through. I bragged that I'd traveled it and beneficently proffered the cautionary that he might want to explore ahead as the switchbacks might be too tight for the trailers. (But you should go LOOK...hint, hint.)
His mare, showing signs of impatience at all this jabbering, held still for her picture.
They then departed. And I, I took my pants off...because Xannie did a swell job of gusseting them so they slide over my boots. And, of course, just because I could.
When they left today, the lead driver gave a couple of cheerful toots of his horn and The Rider said, "Wiedersehen." It coulda bin woise.
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