Pronghorn Traffic Jam

Pronghorn Traffic Jam

Caitlyn screamed, “Look out, Yote!” The Wrangler’s ABS system kicked into gear as the wheels began to slide. BEEP, BEEP, BEEP. The traction control took over and shifted power to the wheels with friction. I exhaled and relaxed. I sighed, “Close call.”

Jersey snored as the Wrangler plowed through the frozen air of Northern Colorado’s North Park. Overnight the thick subzero air had settled into the valley where the sleepy town of Walden was barely illuminated by orange halogen street lights. The world had yet to begin its day as we crept along main street. Slow deep breaths. Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale. The soft fur on Jersey’s ribs rose and fell as he peacefully slept in the back of the Wrangler. A wave of jealousy passed. I thought to myself, “I wish I was still sleeping.” I chuckled to myself, “I always drive him around. How come he never drives me anywhere?” The thought of Jersey sitting upright in the driver’s seat with his front paws draped over the wheel brought a huge smile to my face and a giggle to my belly. The chunky Sorel snow boots made the pedal and clutch clumsy and awkward to operate. There isn’t much room in a Wrangler to begin with and now it was filled with massive arctic weight snow boots. Not the best driving shoes. I cursed myself for not choosing lighter boots, but at least my feet were warm. We pressed on, trying to make it to Saratoga for Caitlyn’s spa manager interview.

The Wyoming border came and went without excitement. We had each made this drive too many times to care anymore. It wasn’t anything new. As we dropped into the North Platte valley around Riverside the air thickened. Frozen crystals built up on the windshield inside and out. The defroster was overloaded. It was no match for the sub zero temperatures outside and our breath inside, from 2 dogs and 2 people, began to accumulate on the glass. On top of that, a heavy fog closed around us. I couldn’t see the road. The white snow pack of the road blended seamlessly with the thick white fog in the air. My grip tightened around the steering wheel. I clenched my jaw. My palms began to sweat with anxiety. I thought to myself, “This is not smart with a pregnant girlfriend in the car.” I drifted slowly off the road and switched on my hazard lights. I needed a break and a second to gain my bearings. I needed a moment to take a deep breath and regain my composure. I cranked the heat up and the defroster made a gap in the frosted breath. I could see a bit better. I shifted into first, released the clutch, gave it some gas, and we were back on the move. I relaxed my grip, exhaled deeply, and felt the tension melt away. 

“Good luck babe,” I called to Cait as she hopped out. She kicked up powdery snow as she strolled along the freshly shoveled walkway into her interview. The fog had lifted as the sun hit the valley. The memory of it faded just as the fog had dissipated, slowly and quietly, as if it had never happened. I yanked the parking brake, grabbed my bag, and hurried to the hot springs. The sulfur smells drifted through the cold January air. A light and pleasant rotten egg smell filled my nose and I grinned thinking about the healing waters I was about to plunge into. I needed a long relaxing soak after the week of hard running. Long miles thru icy air on frozen roads had taken its toll on my body. The air had warmed in the sun but only slightly. It stung my body as I exited the locker room. I scampered across the sidewalks and slipped into the water. It burned as I lowered myself in. A good burn. A welcome relief from the nip of the cold Wyoming air. I floated in the water and the tightness melted out of my lower back and hips. The mineral waters eased the tension in my calves and soothed the aches in my ankles. A muffled splash sound caused me to open my eyes and raise my head out of the water. The steam from the heated water made the person who jumped in barely visible. I glanced at my watch. It was time to head back to the ranch and pick up Cait.

The roads were clear as we approached the Colorado border. Just wet asphalt and a bit of slush in some spots. The tires sprayed the slush out to the sides and sent it splattering across the road. The contrast between the black road and the white snow was stark. Frosted forest covered the snowy mountains that surrounded the upper North Platte Valley. Each rolling ridge crested in a peak and then the ridge fell only to climb again to another peak. The mountains lacked the stunning jagged rock of other ranges like the Tetons, the Sangres, or the Winds but they were majestic nonetheless.  

 As we crested a hill, Caitlyn screamed, “Look out, Yote!” The Wrangler’s ABS system kicked into gear as the wheels began to slide. The console chimed, “BEEP, BEEP, BEEP.” The traction control took over and shifted power to the wheels with friction. I exhaled and relaxed. I sighed, “Close call.” A massive herd of pronghorn charged down the road. They were running away from the Wrangler using both sides of the road. The snow banks contained them in the road. Those who left the smooth road surface immediately sunk into the deep snow, tripped, and face planted. They quickly regained their run and pressed on. The herd contained thousands of white butts, black cheek patches, and spiked horns. The clacking and clogging of hooves echoed off the road and snowbanks like heavy hail on a tin roof. The herd charged on with the Wrangler driving them further and further down the road. The chilly moist air was clean. A massive pack of animals without a scent was surprising. After spending time with a few goats, you quickly learn that they can be a smelly bunch of animals, so the lack of smell to the herd was impressive. I thought about it and laughed while I asked Cait, “I wonder how pronghorn bathe. They must take showers since they aren’t smelly at all.” 

Eventually a county road intersected with the highway. The break in the fence and snow bank gave the herd an escape route. The stream of pronghorn flowed off the highway onto the snow covered grassland and just like that the road was empty again. A clear black strip led off into the distance. The pronghorn herd faded from view as we increased our speed. As I shifted through the gears we gained speed and I remarked, “I wish I had seen that many pronghorn on my Christmas hunting trip.” I chuckled. Cait laughed. We were energized by a once in a lifetime sighting. We buzzed with excitement the entire way home.