Chapter Six
After Mass, Rodger found a park suitable for their breakfast. Without mentioning what was visible on the horizon, he seated the boy facing west. Halfway through his second slice of cantaloupe, Mike exclaimed, “the mountains!”
The haze had cleared overnight, and one could just make out the Rockies. So indistinct they could be confused for clouds, their immensity was nevertheless perceptible, even at this distance—a line standing proud at the end of the long prairie.
Mike was irrepressibly excited. He finished breakfast standing, humming as he ate and occasionally stamping a foot like an impatient pony. They would soon be climbing into the zone of pine trees and cool air.
After breakfast, Mike again sat in the back of the Chevelle. He wanted to take another look at his catechism. He had noticed a similarity between the book and words the priest said at Mass. He read:
5. From whom do we learn to know, love and serve God?
We learn to know, love and serve God from Jesus Christ, the Son of God, who teaches us through the Catholic Church.
6. Where do we find the chief truths taught by Jesus Christ through the Catholic Church?
We find the chief truths taught by Jesus Christ through the Catholic Church in the Apostles’ Creed.
7. Say the Apostles’ Creed.
I believe in God, the Father Almighty, Creator of heaven and earth; and in Jesus Christ, His only Son, Our Lord; Who was conceived by the Holy Spirit, born of the Virgin Mary, suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, died, and was buried. He descended into hell; the third day he arose again from the dead; He ascended into heaven, sitteth at the right hand of God, the Father Almighty; from thence He shall come to judge the living and the dead. I believe in the Holy Spirit, the Holy Catholic Church, the communion of saints, the forgiveness of sins, the resurrection of the body, and life everlasting. Amen.
Mike tried to remember the creed he heard at Mass. It seemed to be longer, and he had noticed in particular the part about “One, Holy, Catholic and Apostolic Church.” He didn’t see the same words in the Apostle’s Creed, so he decided this must be a shorter version, which made sense to him because the book was for kids.
Mike next considered the part about believing in “the forgiveness of sins.” This also made sense to him because they had just gone to confession. He dared think what it must be like not to believe in the forgiveness of sins, but the idea was too dark. He put the catechism away and climbed into the front seat.
They were on a slighter road, a state highway running diagonally towards U.S. 160. They had left the river valley and were far from towns. Only an occasional ranch house was visible, giving Mike his first experience of the empty west. The area was so isolated that Rodger began worrying about the Chevelle, and he was happy to see signs of development around Walsenburg.
The town was just on the edge of the Rockies. The mountains were not so tall here, unlike the Sangre de Christo range to the northwest, or Pike’s Peak to the north. Rodger drove through town and started up the gradual pull to North La Veta Pass. He had to shift down to third, and he watched the engine temperature rise slightly. Mike sat quietly beside him. Dropping into the San Luis Valley, Rodger pointed to the southern tip of the Sangre de Christos. Mike wondered at the bare rock towers, massive and inaccessible.
They stopped for gas in Alamosa, and this time Rodger did not leave Mike alone. Making conversation to the best of his ability, Rodger told his son they would eat lunch on the continental divide. They also retrieved jackets from the trunk; the temperature had been pleasant thus far, but Rodger knew things would be different on Wolf Creek Pass.
Crossing through the valley, they began the long climb to the divide. Mike was surprised to hear his ears popping several times. Aspen trees gave way to pines, which were then replaced by firs. The fir trees next grew smaller and were eventually separated into clumps. Mike finally saw nothing but rocks on the ground above. “The tree line,” Rodger told him.
Approaching the pass, Rodger shifted down to second. He was somewhat embarrassed, thinking that here is where a V-8 would pay off. The engine temperature remained in the normal range, however, and Rodger comforted himself with the thought that the car was loaded. How often does he drive a loaded car over the continental divide, anyway?
At the top, Rodger parked amongst other vehicles. He led Mike to a sign which named the pass and described its significance. Mike could read the sign, but he could not understand why water going one direction would flow into the Atlantic Ocean, and in the other direction to the Pacific. “Doesn’t it go into lakes?” Mike asked. Rodger had to explain the water would eventually make it to the ocean, even if it took a long time.
Having an unusual fascination with water, Mike considered testing the divide with his canteen. He decided against it, however, because he needed the water to drink. He instead stood with a foot on either side of the divide and yelled for his father’s attention. Rodger could only reflect on how the boy would react when they reached the Four Corners. Opening the Chevelle’s trunk, they ate a late lunch.
Rodger had assumed they would make Durango, but he was tired. The long descent from the pass, often in a lower gear, taxed him further. As they approached Pagosa Springs, Mike saw billboards advertising the hot springs pool. When the boy asked if he could swim, Rodger decided they had done enough.
Rodger was less pleased when he saw the price of admission: $2.50 for adults and $.75 for children. They had swim suits in hand, however, so he paid. Mike jumped in the pool and began an energetic crossing followed by a leisurely circumnavigation. Rodger picked a chair and watched his son.
Rodger would have thought an hour in the sun enough at this altitude, but he could not stomach $3.25 for one hour’s play. So he pulled a towel over his shoulders and shifted the chair a bit. Mike was tanned from summer swimming, but Rodger’s job in the mine did little to season him.
Mike thankfully flagged after a couple hours, so with an obligatory dip just to get wet, Rodger shepherded his son towards the entrance. They found a decent motel and got cleaned up. Based on a tip from a local at the pool, Rodger knew about a steak house. Although he thought they had already spent too much, the idea was appealing.
It seemed a long time since Hutchinson. They had patronized a greasy spoon, a burger stand, and had picnicked. A proper meal sounded good. The fact they were now on the Pacific side of the divide was also bothering Rodger more than he knew. He felt it was time for something different.
The steak house was very simple—a plain, rectangular, brown building surrounded by a gravel lot. It had few windows and no plantings outside. Inside, however, the restaurant was nicely decorated and completely packed. The crowd was young, and the air was sharp with good times and sizzling meat.
Mike was as predictable at supper as at breakfast: fried chicken, french fries, and whatever vegetable came with it. Rodger had a sirloin steak, baked potato, and salad. They each tried chocolate marble cheesecake for dessert, a novelty to both.
Mike fell asleep watching the late movie on television, as usual, but Rodger was still restless. The only thing he found more difficult that talking about his feelings was identifying them. Sensing in himself a surprising distress, Rodger prayed for help. After a time, the problem came to him: he had crossed the divide, and it was now more or less downhill to Veronica. Praying he would know what to say when they met, he went to sleep.