Believe It

"TIRE CHAINS REQUIRED" flashed on the emergency highway sign as I began to ascend Wolf Creek Pass. Powered by a Cummins diesel engine, the flatbed pickup truck easily yanked around the 20 foot gooseneck trailer filled with Corriente cattle I had just purchased outside of Trinidad. Andy kept me company in the front seat while Hugo, my red heeler, excitedly paced non-stop from side to side on the flatbed intently watching for oncoming semi's to snap at as they passed. The weather was calm with pleasant temperatures so Andy and I assumed the sign's warning was accidentally turned on.

As the diesel engine rattled up the mountainside, the weather became cloudy. A little higher it began to rain.  And, it quickly changed to light snow and it didn't take long for us to be in the middle of an outright blizzard. In the matter of a couple miles the road went from dry to wet to snowpacked and slick.

Dual-wheeled pickup trucks are a joke on slick roads and I pulled over to lock in the 4-wheel drive and chain up the front end. Truck driver's who did not heed the warning sign at the base of the mountain also were lining the shoulder of the road. After stringing on the tensioners, a truck driver from Florida approached us for help as he had no idea how to chain up his big rig. Snow pelted us as we dragged out his monster-sized chains and tighteners and attached them to his tires.

Hugo reluctantly jumped off the bed of the truck and joined us in the cab as we slowly ground our way up the pass. Even with the front end chained up, the road was slippery with the tires struggling to gain traction. The higher we went, the slower we crawled and the more nervous I became. We finally hit the "tunnel" which is actually a 900 foot snow shed to allow avalanche slides to go over the highway instead of across it. Popping out of the tunnel returned us to the inclement weather and I had the radio turned off to devote total concentration on driving.  Conversation dwindled since Andy was wide-eyed and also nervous about the conditions.  Hugo, on the other hand, excitedly leaned against me with happy anticipation looking out the windshield for any oncoming big trucks.
.
"You have any predictions?" I dryly asked Andy in an attempt to lighten the mood.

"Ya...I think your dog is ready to take over the wheel," he slowly drawled while staring blankly out the windshield.

We both nervously chuckled as Hugo appeared like a teenager eager to bump me out of the driver's seat to take his turn.

We slowly fought our way up and finally hit the 10, 857 foot summit where things turned from bad to worse. Everytime I tapped the brakes heading downhill, the truck slid and the gooseneck trailer began to swing around as if it wanted to get ahead of the truck. Now, Andy and I both REALLY creased the seats on the descent with the swinging trailer loaded with cattle acting as if it had a mind of its own.

Gradually, conditions steadily improved as we dropped in elevation. After a 5,000 foot drop, we finally hit Pagosa Springs. Totally exhausted from the spookiest drive I have ever endured, we wearily sat and ate in a restaurant to recover.

"TIRE CHAINS REQUIRED."  If it's blinking, believe it!