Amanda: back to the salt mines

My runs at Meeker.


Well. Dorey’s was going good. Very good. A little tight on her second outrun, but no cross. Her shed was twenty pointer, with good control. I considered driving away the fifteen further, but everything seemed so settled and Dorey had been penning the tough stuff for three weeks like a pro. I took them straight to the pen with the winning run on my hands. I don’t know if it was a step I took, or Dorey making a slip. I can’t remember what precipitated it. But one bolted. Dorey ran to cover it, zigged when she should have zagged and that was the end. The sheep rejoined and there was insufficient time to do it all again.

Monty drew up second from the end which cannot be considered an advantage. But without making excuses for him, he let me down on two critical flanks, on both his fetches. Once I got mad, he sulked. The drive was all right. Not like Dorey’s. And the shed was en exercise in anger management. It didn’t come off.

Meeker is a big wonderful trial to win with remarkably difficult conditions. Sheep, altitude, heat, all combine to challenge deeply. It was nice to get two on the final day, but underperforming makes one hunger for next year.

I left on Sunday night, trying to get some hours into the long road ride ahead.

The drive was more oppressive than usual due to the angry oven heat over the midwest. All of Nebraska, normally a drag to cross, was out of sight. I stopped somewhere to let the dogs out at noon. Blistering wind swept around dust devils. The dogs wanted back into the truck instantly–a first for them. Since the heat was too extreme for stopping, I kept driving for a twenty hour stretch, that got me to Davenport, Iowa. I plugged in the generator and turned on the AC–37 degrees Celsius (98.6 degrees Fahrenheit) at 10:30 at night.

Back at it in the early morning, I crossed the Mississippi, bathed in morning light. It was Rock Island. There were twin spans of bridge over the lazy river; one for the traffic bound for Illinois; one for the traffic bound for Iowa. They were pretty. People had boats out in what was left of the water that must have been swept away by yesterday’s hot wind. So many things to hold back that river, but it keeps going. The Mississippi.

I got to my darlin home town this morning. Kevin Gallagher had my place all spruced up. It was a joy to see him and my home and my dogs left behind. I had been gone for such a long, intense time.