What a Bad Idea Looks Like
Some ideas start out as good, then turn bad.
Some just start out bad.
My cows are on summer pasture where a creek snakes across the valley as if it is trying to shed its skin.
The valley has plenty of grass after our Miracle-Gro rains in June.
Twenty-five-foot-high sandstone cliffs offer delightful neighborhoods for nesting swallows.
The concrete foundation of a home that burned 55 years ago rests just to the south of my pasture and a farmhouse is barely visible to the north.
The two-track road directs the only path to avoid unseen dropoffs or the bottomless mud of legacy creek pools.
My cows are happy there and I am, too.
No cars, no cell service, no loud noises.
Just sunshine, a slight breeze and those doe-eyed cows that lay together in a loose-knit group near the water, chewing their cud and watching me putter.
The cattle were relaxed that afternoon, but the water gap fence was knocked down in a couple of spots along the creek.
The water gap allows cows in the neighbors’ pasture to access the creek for a drink, but it is a pain in the neck to maintain because the water level rises and drops, the bulls want to visit other cows and the creekbank soil is sandy and erosive.
So I wasn’t surprised to discover an urgent fencing job.
As I drove home to gather posts, wire and tools, I thought about the best way to tackle this project.
That’s when the idea smacked me in the forehead.
I could save time and effort if I hauled my heavy fencing supplies a quarter of a mile closer, all the way to the creek, if I followed a barely-visible old road.
I’d just have to ease my way down a steep, sandstone hill.
The road hadn’t been used in years and was a bit washed out, but obviously other people had made it so I could, too.
I saved a lot of time on the fence when I didn’t need to pack all of my supplies down that hill and I was proud of how I repaired it in less than ideal fencing conditions.
I loaded up my tools and pointed my 4-wheel-drive up the hill.
From this angle, what used to be a road was sloughing sandstone, eroded rills and a few big rocks.
I slipped my truck into 4 low.
Then I got out and picked the narrow path I hoped my truck would take.
The pickup crawled over rocks and through the dip that tipped it almost to the angle of repose right up to the moment when I had to either back down or floor the gas to attempt the steepest part of the hill, with no guarantee of making it to the top and no turning back.
I already crossed rolling a pickup down a cliff from my bucket list so I didn’t need that life experience again.
I eased into reverse and pinpricked my way to the creek.
A survey of the landscape revealed 270 degrees of cliffs and 90 degrees of meandering creek through deep brush -- on the other side of my fence.
The confused cows watched me take the fence apart, using up all the time I had saved by driving down there in the first place.
I pulled the fence back together and found a gravelly ford in the creek, no worse for wear.
As I drove back to my house, I decided it is important to go with a bad idea once in a while so I might know what a good idea looks like.
I have a pretty good picture now.