
I got caught in unexpected snow this past May near Idaho's Galena Summit, proving that snowy mountain passes are not just a thing of my past. -- Photo by Pat Bean
“If all difficulties were known at the outset of a long journey, most of us would never start out at all.” — Dan Rather
Travels With Maggie
It was Sunday, Nov. 5, 1987, and I had been sitting for over an hour in a Continental plane on the runway at Denver’s International Airport. The weather outside was freezing and frightful while the temperature inside the plane was getting more heated and cantankerous by the moment.
Finally, our plane retreated back to the terminal, where we learned Continental Flight 1713, just two planes ahead of us, had crashed on takeoff and the airport had been shut down.

Looking down on the headwaters of the Salmon River after safely getting over Galena Pass. -- Photo By Pat Bean
The passengers jamming the terminal mostly headed to get in long lines to reschedule their flights and get lodging freebies for the night. I didn’t bother. I had a space available ticket, courtesy of my Continental flight attendant son. No freebie lodging for delays and the lowest priority for getting assigned another flight.
Fortunately my son lived in Denver; and he graciously loaned me his small compact car so I could drive home to Ogden. That my solo 525-mile journey would take me through snow-covered passes crossed my mind, but didn’t daunt my decision to make it. I needed to get back to work.
I hadn’t thought of this story in years until this morning when I read Susan Tweit’s Blog (found at http://wp.me/p14fQq-eE ) about her journey returning from Denver to her home over the mountains. She wrote: “It seems to me that the important point of any journey, literal or figurative, is the spirit we bring to it. If we can adapt to the unexpected with grace – whether highway closures, brain cancer or hospice care, appreciating the light, the aspens, and the ravens playing on the streams of wind, the trip will be easier and perhaps full of gifts we could not have expected.”
It wasn’t an easy drive back to Ogden. Sometimes, or so it seemed, I didn’t just follow the snow plows, I led them. But it had been a journey I had felt compelled to take. Perhaps I needed it to find out if I had the stuffing inside me to eventually follow my dream of being a road gypsy who could face whatever the road tossed her way. I did.
And I still do.


















