A Stranger In the Night

I stay up late, as some of you may know. Several nights ago, at 1:38 in the morning, there was a knock at my door. The door toward my garage, for those of you who are familiar. There's a small entry porch there and the light was on.

The cats alerted, and I went to the door. There stood a man who was heavily dressed. He had boots, waterproof pants, a large coat, a cap, and a windbreaker over his head. I had him come inside. He had already slumped down on the porch, and he slumped again against my dryer which is just inside the door. This was hypothermia! He asked for a glass of water, which I wish I'd thought to warm up.

In the bitter cold, wind, and light snow, Joe had walked all the way from St. Elmo which is around a dozen miles up the canyon that emerges from the mountains nearby. He'd left in the dark at 6 pm, got out of the mountains, and had then slogged around in big circles out here on the valley floor. He'd been walking for seven and a half hours, and had reached my house by walking across the field. The snow was about two feet deep there, and I don't think Joe had much left in him.

Joe became more and more rational as he warmed back up. He called his girlfriend in Buena Vista, and Suzy drove out to get him at about 2:15 in the morning. She drove on by, missing the turn, but I chased her down in my Prius and she followed me back. It was a good ending.