God's Royal Park
     The old cowboy had finally arrived in California; the trip had been hard on both horse and man; somehow that damn old dog looked like the day back when the trip started. Since leaving the Big Bend country of Texas the cowboy had now covered over four thousand miles first to Dakota, then on here to California. Most of it thru mountains, on game trails and traces some on the old wagon road of the pioneers.

     He had topped out in the Sierras coming over from Nevada and seen that beautiful lake called Tahoe; dropped down the mountains into the “Mother Lode” only to find most of the mines closed. The miners had ripped the face off the earth, stolen her riches and moved on. What few men he found told tales of the Klondike; up in Alaska or the Yukon that was where lady luck was to be found.

     A tear came to his eyes when he saw what the miners with hydraulic mining had done to the creeks and streams, the tunnels and pot holes all over the land. Abandoned cabins, equipment too large to carry just left behind. Oh there were a few die-hards still panning for the tailing left behind by the company mines, but it was for sure the Russian and his family was not here to find.

     Then blindly letting the mare go where she might, old cowboy found himself among the most beautiful site… crossing a washed out creek he saw a lone standing elk, the trees around him were the biggest he had ever seen! Giant Sequoia and Redwoods, parks and meadows with game all around in this high mountain wilderness. Surely this must be God’s own Royal Park… and here he again found his vision, once more heard her siren’s call. The quest would continue, on to the northern lands…

~ © 2003/2010 David L. Griffith ~

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