Thursday, September 6, 2012
The road is pitch black under a starlit sky, just the headlights cutting a hole in the shadows, and the yellow dots of the lane divider clip by. The silhouettes of mountains and tall, thin pines stand out against a midnight blue sky. Out on Crippled Creek’s headway, off Dead Fork Road, no one else exists. Quietly, the miles pass. The road bends and up ahead a blinking red light swings on a cable stretched between 2 poles. It is a crossroads and a town: Lost Falls. Slowing down, a half dozen empty buildings slide by devoid of life: a post office, a grocery store, a gas station, and in the distance a roadhouse, the only open establishment for miles and miles. A neon sign shines brightly. In bold red letters, Nordo’s Hideout. It offers a place to rest and find other people deep in the Northwest forest. A few cars in the gravel lot. A pickup. You swing in. And nothing tastes better, after a long stint on the road, than a fresh cup of coffee and breakfast.