Athena Smiled

Los Alamos · New Year’s Eve, 1999

It was in tribute to freedom that Len was willing to drive home late at night on New Year’s Eve. It had been an especially good night. He had spent the late evening hours out with Jack walking in the hills above the pipeline road.

How long had he and Jack been doing this now? Twenty eight years. Every year they put chains on all four wheels of a four-wheel-drive vehicle and tried to go as far up the pipeline as they could before getting stuck. Sometimes they would make it to the last turnout before the boulder-strewn washout. That was in years when there was hardly any snow and they were driving the Rover. Normally, they would get to the first major hill and the vehicle would get stuck. From there they would hike the remainder of the distance in the snow to the lookout tree where the best photographs of Los Alamos were taken in the 1950’s.

The climb was cold and grueling, even for men as fit as Len and Jack. Len was tall and lean, blond, blue-eyed, and precise in his movements. Jack was shorter and broader, with dark hair, intense brown eyes, and a strength that always surprised people. This year they had driven the Land Rover hard up the pipeline road until the snow stopped them. They put on snowshoes and caving helmets, lit their carbide lamps, and continued on foot. Two hours later they reached the lookout tree.

The lookout tree was a 100-foot ponderosa pine. Nestled between three branches that forked at the extreme top of the tree was a platform devoid of any rails. The only thing visible that indicated there was something at the top of the tree was an old frayed rope ladder that extended from the ground into the darkness above. The ladder was attached to the tree by large wood eye bolts every ten feet.

Len took a flask out of his breast pocket, took a swig, and passed the flask to Jack. Jack took a short drink of the peppermint schnapps and passed the flask back to Len. A wind was blowing from the northwest when Len started his ascent. The cold breeze nipped at the exposed skin of his face. The rope rungs were either so cold that his hands would stick or encased in ice so they were painful to grab. Fifteen feet up the ladder Len felt for the next rope rung and it was gone. It was the first of three missing rungs. The stretch was long between rungs but Len pulled hard to reach the next rung safely. The first one was easy, the last torture. Len reached the platform and pulled himself up exposing his face to arctic winds. The tree swayed from side to side as he lay panting listening for Jack.

Jack arrived a few minutes later. They sat up and tied themselves off by attaching a rope to their waists and to one of the tree limbs holding up the platform. The wind was bitter cold. Len took out the flask and they both toasted the New Millennium.

Every year, at midnight, Len held up the flask and said, “To freedom.”

Tonight they forgot the cold, the lack of side rails, and the swaying tree, inhaled the fresh pine air and stared out at a crystal clear world lit only by the lights of Los Alamos in the distance.

Their climb down the ladder was harder than the climb up. It was mostly accomplished by feel. When they reached the bottom Jack and Len climbed up to the road and traversed down it in their snowshoes until they got to the car.

Both of them considered the way back a time for meditation and solitude. It was a rare year that any words were said on the way down the mountain. After a grueling lift and shuffle down the road, Jack and Len saw the Rover. They had forgotten how stuck it was. It was centered on a mound of ice, rocks, and snow leaving all four wheels suspended in the air.

Len took a rope out of the Rover and said, “I’ll look around for a lever arm if you’ll get the fulcrum ready.”

Jack sized up the situation and tried to pivot the Rover on the high centered mound unsuccessfully. He took out the shovel Len kept in the Rover and used it to build up two mounds of packed snow reinforced by sticks, logs, and rocks in the front and to the side of the Rover.

Len yelled over to Jack, “I found a lever but I’ll need your help to slide it back to the Rover.”

Len had already tied a rope around the log’s limbs and had it wrapped around an aspen limb that was ten feet off the ground. They tugged on the rope until the 15-foot log was out of its hole and almost even with them. Len made a harness and they both pulled the log the remainder of the distance to the Rover.

Jack leaned on the car, panting, and said, “I figure we should rotate the Rover on the mound so that our initial thrust will be downhill in a forward direction. If we put the log over here on the side, we should be able to rotate the Rover easily.”

Len set himself to help rotate the car and said, “OK, Let’s do it.” They both wrestled the log into position. Len sat on the log while Jack turned the Rover. It spun easily and kept rotating until Jack let up.

“I think we need to clear a runway for this thing,” said Len.

“Hang on a second, let me catch my breath. Geez, I’ll be glad when I get into bed. What time do you have, anyway?”

“Two-thirty. It’s definitely been a long one this year.”

Len and Jack dug out a path in front of the Rover. In front of each tire they laid evergreen limbs for 20 to 30 feet. They then shoveled dirt and snow under the four wheels.

Jack said, “Let’s do it. Don’t stop if you don’t have to.”

Len got into the driver’s seat and Jack manned the log and screamed. “Let her rip.”

Len turned on the engine and shifted into second gear. He started to give it some gas. When Jack saw the wheels begin to turn he rocked the Rover with the lever arm until the car started to slide off high center. Len felt the increased momentum and gunned the car. It took off down the road. Jack slogged along in the shoes for another couple hundred yards until the snow level dropped. Len had stopped for him down the road. Jack got into the car exhausted. He looked over at Len.

“I don’t look as bad as you do, do I?”

“Oh no, you look ready for a night out at the opera,” Len joked.

“Hell yes, you look as bad as me. I’m drained. Let’s get home.”

“Hey, want me to drive?”

“Nah, I’ve gone this far. I’d like to finish it. Have you in bed safe and sound in 5 minutes.” Len drove Jack home to North Mesa and started on his way to Barranca Mesa. Coming down the hill Len remembered that they were out of milk.

“Might as well get it now rather than get up in the morning. Great, I’m so tired I’m talking to myself. If that’s not bad enough, I’m swerving and it’s beginning to snow hard.”

Len drove the two miles to the Hilltop store, the only all night store in Los Alamos, and bought milk. As he walked out of the store he slipped from exhaustion and fell in the driveway.

“Getting old is great.” Len got into his car asleep on his feet. As he turned out of the driveway he drove straight off the curb. Len was beginning to wonder if he would make it home.