If we thought our snow drifts were something, they were not, in comparison to what I saw plowed and piled up alongside the road in the high country setting of Rociada New Mexico yesterday. It reminded me of the snow piles Steve and I saw when we drove a VW Micro-bus to Schenectady New York back in the 70s; some mountains of piled snow encasing the road were too high to see over.  Well, this was just the entrance to Pendarais, a chill went up my back as I realized, I hadn't been up there in the Winter before. How much snow do they get?

I was about to find out. After that brief shred of doubt, I realized being stuck in the snow in a country club was much less scary than the job I tried to do last week at the San Miguel county detention center, with the guards, the walkie talkies, and the stink-eying-me vatos. Yeah, the detention center, nobody likes jails, but the nurses are sick of the idiot the county has for an IT guy, and they want Desertgate instead. However, when I asked them how I was supposed to get a wire to the nurses office in the middle of the jail, they didn't know. When I asked about a crawl space, they looked at me like I was insane, "yeah, right and we got tunnels under the jail too."

Up, and deeper into the forest I went. I had the Trooper in four wheel drive since the road turned to gravel, oh, way back by the the entrance to the actual golf course. The road was plowed, the streets clearly marked, unlike most places I work. I got to tell you having no cell phone makes finding people's houses a real pain in the ass, and sometimes impossible. I don't know what some people are thinking, when they ask for a service person to come to their house, but they fail to mention there are no street signs or house numbers. Well I teased this home owner, that nobody mentioned that he lived on top of the mountain.

Well I wasn't there yet, indeed I wasn't terribly certain I was even on the proper road.  I was looking for lot 135, but the map of Pendarias I had clearly showed lots 136 through 150 on the other side of the mountain. Then near the edge of the photo copy in a barely visible corner, I spied 130, 131, and a little mark where the photocopier failed to record anything legible. That had to be it, I had time, this was a beautiful place to be lost, if indeed I was lost. It turns out I wasn't lost, I passed the one clue I had, a sign which read, "Pearson's." The only problem was the road; it went up at a forty five degree angle, and there was an impassable drift about halfway up which halted the Isuzu, instantly.

I carefully backed down the extreme slope, and into Carol and Bob Pearson's driveway. They were home and warmly greeted yours truly. They were kind enough to offer their phone and a phone guide for Pendarais residents and we called the prospective client. Nobody answered, but shortly there after a road grader could be seen heading up the extremely steep incline. The client must have some pull to get a heavy equipment operator to go up there in that much drifting snow. I stayed with Carol and Bob for ten minutes where we could see the grader going up and down the road.

I decided I would hike up there. I suited up for cold weather and set out on foot as the grader came by, I asked him if the road was passable, he shrugged his shoulders and said, "I guess so, what are you driving?" Hmm, what to do, I thought, I need the work, this is beautiful, even though I can't completely set aside the notion that I may slide off the mountain to an uncertain, but probably not good fate. I'm going for it. I walked back to the Pearson's and got the Trooper. After backing out their plowed driveway, and yes they live very high on the mountain as well, but where I was headed they assured me, only eagles dared.      

The grader did a swell job on the road, I could see gravel every here and there, which was mildly reassuring because if the vehicle began to lose traction the only place to go was down. Good thing the Trooper was running as well as I imagined it was, because after 500 or so yards of what felt like straight up, I was beginning to wonder if I had enough power to overcome the gravity of the  mountain, then the road curved wildly out to a precipice and  back, like some kind of amusement park ride. Oh yeah it was thrilling. Down a ways and up again, and the road got narrower, then steeper until I was presented with a "Y" in the road, nobody said nothin' about a fork in the road.

The little bit if information I had was that this client's home was the only one up there. I engaged  the Trooper's fully functioning emergency brake, and was staring at the gorgeous Winter scene,  contently smoking my cigar, when I heard a, "Hello," come from behind. It was the perspective client, he had followed me up the hill driving his Subaru. That says a lot for the Subaru four wheel drive vehicle's agility on a snowy incline. "Howdy," I greeted him with my usual cheer. I was just trying to figure out which way to go, when he said, "Where did you come from?"

Apparently he was parked down the hill before the Person's driveway, watching the grader do its thing, but had missed me sneak past when it went by for the final run. Anyway, he was pointing up the hill, and saying that's where he lived. Figures, I was thinking. I had noticed that part of the road wasn't plowed, so I innocently suggested we see what the Subaru could do and let him go first. Damn if he didn't make it on the first attempt. He did park before the plowing stopped, he had shoveled a path up, yes further up, to the house, we parked two hundred feet below the house and hiked the rest of the way.

The two full window walls were facing, one north overlooking Maestas canyon and the other at ground level with the forest floor rising sharply up and out of view of the windows. As I worked off the front deck, installing the antenna I peered over the side at the deep snow, thinking to myself if my cold fingers lost their grip on the wrench, I would simply sacrifice it to the spirit of the mountain. Yeah, it was steep, the building on the top level was modest in size, maybe 25 feet from deck to deck, with the south or west deck at ground level, (I couldn't tell you which way I was facing and I have a great sense of direction) and the opposite deck, was off the ground by one story as it dropped off quickly from there. It was much like skiing in Taos where we would start out at a ledge level with forty foot tall tree tops at our feet.

I don't know if you can imagine what it feels like for a guy who has spent his life twisting wires together under greasy cars and at better times in a shop, to be hanging off the deck of an Alpine Chalet, twisting wires, in utter beauty, but it was friggin awesome.

Okay, I get to go work again today, Nell is feeling better, so I don't feel too bad leaving her here alone again. Thank you all for calling her and cheering her up, it was a very hard weekend for her, but we think she is out of the darkest woods, now.