(It took him a few days just to figure out how to put the batteries in the camera. This from a man who can build just about anything you can imagine AND cook the most amazing turkey dinner with the works, in nary a blink of an eye.)
We expected them back Sunday night, at the earliest.
Late Friday night he walked through the front door two days early, scaring the $%&! out of me. Saturday morning, actually. 2 a.m.
They'd stayed 6 nights in a forest service cabin, at 8100 foot elevation in the mountains of southern Montana.
They'd had trouble driving in there in the first place with a 4 wheel drive truck and horse trailer in tow. The snow was already quite deep when they'd arrived.
Then it snowed more, then the wind kicked up suddenly, blowing for 24 hours straight with blizzard-like conditions, followed by cold sunshine, and then more snow.
They had no cell service and no way to get a weather forecast.
By Friday morning, as the snow continued to come down and pile up, they grew concerned about getting snowed in. They hadn't seen another soul since they'd arrived while last year they saw others up there hunting, too.
They packed up and headed down the road.
What should have been an hour and a half drive to Dillon took eleven hours, much of that time spent shoveling the snow out of the way; 3 guys, 3 shovels, and a very experienced driver in these sorts of conditions.
Then, another 6+ hours of driving, over dark and snowy roads. After they dropped C and his horse off at our house, the others had another hour or so to go.
Apparently, behind them, Dillon, on the valley floor, 3000 feet lower in elevation than the cabin, received quite a bit more snow that next day.
Remember, I asked him to bring home cowboy poetry?
Well, they came home with some stories, and nearly more of them, of what could have been: of riding horses out up and over the mountains, followed by renting equipment to dig the truck and trailer out.
We're just glad to have them home.
A handful of pictures, too, doesn't hurt.