Walking The Lonely Road

It is winter in the high desert of northern Nevada. I am maybe 50 miles north of Winnemucca on highway 95. There is not a car insight no matter which way I look.

The cold January wind has dropped the air temperature at least 20 degrees. My fingers were numb hours ago. My ears sting in pain even though my head is wrapped with an old flannel shirt. I dare not look at the ends of my fingers. I lost feeling of them some time back.

There is no place to go except to just walk north. Step, step, one foot in front of another. Left, right, left, right. each step is a deliberate effort. I dare not stop. If I did the cold and loneliness would over take me.

I looked up at the mountains, they are so far way. I will never reach them before night fall. I don't know where I will be at night fall. But I can not give up.

I fix my eyes on the mountains above where the road ends ahead of me. That is not where I am going. Where I am going is many many miles on the other side of those mountains.

Burrrr, the cold is penetrating the layers of shirts, sweaters, and jacket that I have wrapped around me. I never thought I could feel the cold like I am right now.

I can't think about the cold or the loneliness. I must keep walking no matter what I am feeling. I must reach those mountains before it gets dark. If I don't I do not know what I will do.