When I was stationed at Fort Huachuca, Arizona, one sure sign of winter was usually the winter monsoon rains. However, when the winter monsoon rains hit the lower altitudes like down around where my house was at one mile high, that usually meant it was snowing at the higher altitudes in the Huachuca Mountains. Yeah, I noticed that a couple of you were a little bit quicker than the rest of my audience when I said, “lower altitudes.” Cuz one mile high is not exactly considered lower altitude. However, if you happen to live in Denver, Colorado, or in Sierra Vista, Arizona, among other places, a mile high is considered “normal altitude” compared to the adjacent high-altitude mountains nearby. Occasionally, the ambient temperature got cold enough for rain to change to snow at what I’ll call ground altitude in Sierra Vista. When that happened, snow would stick to the ground. And yes, for at least half of the day, and sometimes even for a whole day, my daughter and son would get to go out and play in the snow. But most of the time, it just rained at ground altitude while it snowed in the mountains. Why am I telling you all of this? That is a good question. Because I felt like it. No. Not really. Although I suppose that had something to do with it. But let’s just suppose that someone has grown up in an environment that has four seasons like me and like my wife. You don’t really want to live in that type of environment all of the time. But it’s kinda nice to visit every once in a while. Just for a short period of time. Especially if you don’t have to stay too long. The problem with doing that at Fort Huachuca and Sierra Vista was that you basically had two options if you wanted to romp in the snow in the winter. Well, before you even did that, you had to make sure it wasn’t hunting season. Cuz you didn’t want any of those damn fool soldiers and veterans and retirees that were out in the woods hunting in those mountains to shoot your ass. I’m not saying that they would shoot your ass. But you know, a lot of those good old boys ain’t very good shots. You never know where in the hell they’re going to shoot or what in the hell they’re going to shoot at. And if they miss and hit you, they’ll swear up and down that you looked just like a deer or a pig or whatever the hell else they were hunting for. Yeah. No thank you. If I know ten hunters are over here on this side of the mountain, I want to be at least 20 miles away on the other side of the damn mountain. Cuz the last time I checked, the only thing that can hit you on the other side of the mountain is artillery. And hunters ain’t allowed to use artillery to hunt critters. Even still, I do not want to be out there in the woods when there are some dumbasses out there in the woods with weapons in their hands. Oh, hell no. Anyway, back to the two options to get to the snow in the mountains. One way is to hoof it. You know. Climb up the mountain to the snow. Yeah. I didn’t think you would be really excited about that idea. The second way is to drive up to the snow in a four-wheel-drive vehicle. Of course, that method assumes that you have a four-wheel-drive vehicle at your disposal. Well, one particular day after the winter monsoon had started, it snowed something fierce in the mountains. I had gone out four-wheeling in my Jeep Wrangler earlier that morning scouting for deer for the upcoming hunt. A couple of times, I had gone above the snow line. Why? That’s a good question, too. I went above the snow line because it was easier to pick up fresh sign. You know. Fresh deer tracks and deer droppings and shit like that in order to track the deer to see which way they were going and what they were eating. After it has been raining, you can do the same kinds of things below the snow line as well. You just have to work a little harder, and you have to know where the trails are that the critters take through the woods. Good veteran hunters know what kinds of signs to look for and where to look for them. It just takes practice. But like I said, below the snow line, it involves a little bit more effort than above the snow line. When I came back home, my wife asked me if my Jeep could go all the way up into the mountains where the snow was. I said, “Yes. I just came from there. Why?” “Can you take me up there?” She asked. “Sure. You and the kids get coats and get in the Jeep. And we’ll head up there.” About 20 minutes later, I had the Jeep climbing above the snow line. My wife asked me to go around a bend in the road and stop. The problem with going around the bend in the road was that I had to traverse some huge rock faces. And in a couple of places, it got bad enough where I only had two tires touching the ground at any one time. The left front tire and the right rear tire were touching the ground. But the other two were suspended in the air. I had to get my wife to move near me, and I had to get my kids to move as far as they could into the right rear corner of my Jeep so that I could keep momentum to get across that rockface. Once I got across, I stopped and let everybody get out and play in the snow. Then, my wife said, “I want to go home. But don’t go home the way we just came. I’m scared.” I said, “Guess what?” “What?” “The only way down is back the way we came. And oh, by the way. I don’t have room to turn around. I’m going to have to go back down in reverse until we get across those rock faces. Fun, huh? Everybody get back in and sit exactly the way you sat just before you got out. And don’t move.” I think I had them sufficiently scared shitless. To tell the truth, I was a wee bit scared myself. There were too many things that could go wrong while I was backing in reverse over those rock faces. For example, the Jeep could flip over and roll down the damn mountainside. That would be fun. The Jeep teetered across those rock faces for what seemed like ages in reverse. Finally, we got to a point in the trail where I was able to turn around and drive down the mountain. Funny thing though, my wife never asked me to take her up into the mountains again. I think that trip proved to be her exercise in futility.
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