Braving hail and falling rocks

On Wednesday, my girl and I headed to Red River, a “ski resort” about 30 miles north of Sue’s mountain cabin. As we drove through the mountains, we noticed signs that warned of bobcats.

We were talking about how cool it would be to get chased by a bobcat when my girl pointed to white stuff in the distance. I said it was cotton. When my car skidded, I realized I had driven into the aftermath of a hailstorm. Marble-sized pellets lined the highway and the landscape.

I rolled down the window. It was cold outside. I turned the car around to return to the cabin. (We wore shorts, sandals and T-shirts -- not exactly cold-weather clothes.) But then I decided I couldn't resist driving into a hailstorm in a rental car, so I turned around again and forged ahead toward Red River.

We eased around twisting roads only to find our lane blocked by mounds of fallen rocks and boulders. Awesome! We plodded along for another 10 miles, crunching through hail and easing past debris in the road to reach Red River.