Kevin Kirkpatrick, Trout Republic

Just this past Sunday, Ol’ Dutch decided to have a boys’ day out without Miss Trixie. Well, in all honesty, she went off with the girls, and I was left behind — so the only “boy” I was out with was myself. But that wasn’t all bad. I do enjoy my own company. There are fewer arguments that way, and even fewer conflicting decisions about what to do. 

Left to my own devices, I saddled up the ATV and headed up into the tall pines and whispering aspens to see if I could spot some elk. Everything was going according to plan. I hadn’t seen another soul all day — which, in my book, counts as a raging success. 

So, imagine my surprise when I ran into an older gentleman, his wife and their two grandkids — so far back in the forest I’m pretty sure even Kit Carson hadn’t made it that far. I pulled over on the narrow trail to let them pass, figuring a quick wave would do. But no, it was not to be. He stopped to chat. And what he said nearly made me fall off the ATV laughing. He asked, “Do you know where you are?” 

The look of concern on his face — and his wife’s — told me all I needed to know: they were good and lost. 

Now, I had a dozen responses pop into my head faster than a squirrel up a pine tree. I considered just saying “Yes” and driving off, which made me giggle out loud. Or maybe I’d say “Colorado” and peel out, leaving them to ponder the crazy man on the four-wheeler. Another gem was a simple “No,” and then just sit there, blinking. But the woman already looked like she was ready to tan her husband’s hide, so I figured I’d best not add fuel to that fire. 

A wise man named Jon Kabat-Zinn once said, “Wherever you go, there you are.” That would’ve been a fine response, if only my brain had supplied it at the time. But it was Sunday, and the Lord was riding along with me. So, I just said “Yes” and gave them directions back to civilization. And just like that, another golden opportunity to be a jerk passed Ol’ Dutch by. 

I remember reading once about Jim Bridger, the famous mountain man. When asked if he’d ever been lost, he replied, “I can’t say I was ever lost, but I was bewildered once for three days.” Some say he claimed it was three weeks, but when pressed, he added, “I always knew St. Louis was east.” So technically, not lost. 

In the Rockies, the same rule applies — but with a twist. Out here, if you’re turned around, just head downhill. You’ll eventually find help. That downhill trek might be a doozy, but it’ll get you somewhere, eventually. That fellow and his crew probably would’ve made it out just fine if they’d kept pointing their infernal machine downhill. But the way those trails fork and dead-end, I figured I’d better steer him right — and save him a solid butt-chewing from the missus. And if there’s one thing Ol’ Dutch knows, it’s butt-chewings from my beloved Miss Trixie. I mess up enough in a single day to qualify for a lifetime subscription. 

But I like to think I’m a little like the old cartoon character, Mr. Magoo — wandering through life, mostly oblivious to the chaos I leave behind, but somehow always landing on my feet. And in that, both me and “the Goo” have found happiness. 

Kevin Kirkpatrick spends his days fishing, hunting, ATVing, hiking or making people laugh. His email is Kevin@TroutRepublic.com. Additional news can be found at www.troutrepublic.com.