The First Last

One of the perks of my job is that I get to snowmobile down an open highway with upwards of ten feet of snow on it at elevations of 8,000-9,000 feet above sea level with beautiful mountains standing gloriously all around me, and I do it at least once a week.  While I'm forced to let off the throttle as I wind my way around the mountain corners, on the strait stretches of open snowmobile highway I cruise along in the mountain air at speeds of 60-75 mph.  Incredible.

Yesterday I made my last snowmobile trip down the highway, potentially for the rest of my life.  At a minimum, it was the last time of doing so with the intent of taking a Bible study to those on the other side, cut off from Cooke City due to the highway closure all winter.  As I raced down the highway as I always do, yesterday, about half way down, it hit me... "This is my last trip!"  You would have thought the snowmobile had blown a gasket (whatever that is) by how much I slowed down in that instant.  My last trip out.  In only a couple weeks the highway will be plowed/blown open and it will be accessible again for wheeled vehicles.  Summer will have come.  Winter will be gone.  And so will I.

It was a sad realization, and unfortunately, there are many more "lasts" to come as I slowly transition away from this place, this job, this incredibly special time in my life.  Today is the first day that actually feels like spring is here and summer might be on its way, but I take no pleasure in that fact.  Rather, I'm quite depressed about it.  Summer's arrival means my departure, and I'm not sure I'm ready for it.  I guess I'll have to be.

That said, at first glance you would think winter was going strong.  Here's one person's house and driveway!

Believe it or not, this IS their roof on May 4th

And their driveway... with banks of snow at least 6ft high on each edge! (Also May 4th)