The first wave of dread came over me yesterday, while Eric and I embarked on a quick afternoon hike. Luckily, it wasn’t cold, but the wind was still surprisingly strong, and very, very dry. At some point during our hike, I caught a very brief whiff of someone’s BBQ on the wind, which sent a chill down my spine. For a moment, I worried about a wildfire. Still, I managed to keep that fear hidden from Eric (at least, I think so), and finished the hike. 

However, even as the sun set below the foothills, the wind didn’t relent. In fact, for a time it got stronger, and I began to wonder if a hike with Eric the next morning was a good idea. Especially when I made the decision to stay home because I didn’t want to leave my dogs at home alone, in case another wildfire broke out. 

The next morning, I got up and it was very quiet. A little too quiet, honestly. However, I could feel the change in weather coming. I can’t explain how (aside from my clogged nostril). It was like I just knew that something big was coming. 

I wasn’t alone in this feeling either. While Eric and I headed towards the northern side of Ken Caryl Valley, I didn’t see a single bird or deer out. Everyone was hiding, and rightfully so. The wind was coming up quick, from dead still to a gale, bringing with it a whole lot of cold, dry, dusty air 

Hearing that vicious wind hiss through the grass made me seriously second-guess the hike. But Eric really wanted to go, and since I’m a resident of Ken Caryl Valley, but Eric is not, I had to accompany him. 

At that moment, I think he could tell that I was a little more than trepidatious about our hike. Still, I tried (and failed) to hide it, because logically I knew that there was nothing to be afraid of. Sure, it was very windy and quite cold, but it wasn’t like we were going to hike along the hogback ridge or stand at the edge of a mountain. Why, then, was I trembling before I even felt the cold?