Two trucks barrel down the embankment where we’ve parked high in the Uintas Mountains. We heard them pass a few minutes before but they’ve turned around and come back. They park close, their lights glare through the gaps in our window insulation. We hear a door open and close. I slide open our door expecting a confrontation with rowdy teenagers who want to hassle us or a ranger who wants us to move. A portly man with tan clothes, a flat hat, a flashlight, and a gun walks up.
“Are you guys ok?”
Caught off guard I respond,
“Yea we’re good. ”
“Looks like you been doing some cross-country skiing,” he says.
Thinking we might be busted for something I respond hesitantly,
He launches in,
“We got a report of someone stranded up here but it looks like you two are just having a fine time.”
He must smell the burritos and feel the heat inside the van.
“Can we stay?” I ask.
“Of course,” he says with a jolly smile, “you two have a great night.”
They race off in search of another stranded van. We settle into dinner. Westy life is dandy in Utah tonight.