Despite the snow, wind, and colder-than-normal temperature, a large crowd came to Virginia City to celebrate the weekend of cooked mountain oysters and green beer. Parking, at a premium, was impossible to find on C Street, so I parked on Carson Street off Six Mile Canyon Road and behind the baseball field.
After spending the day with friends and cruising the saloons, I noticed the sheriff’s department out and about. They were issuing warnings and citations to vehicles that were unlawfully parked.
Knowing I had parked in a far out-of-the-way place, I was still worried that I might have violated some unknown law and maybe, at that very moment, was being cited for parking where I was not supposed to. Since it was long after dark, I decided to call it a night, and after bidding everyone around me goodnight, I set off on the long hike to my car.
Walking the unlit back streets down the hill from the main drag of Virginia City is an endeavor in courage all unto itself. The loss of quietude stolen by raucous laughter from saloon patrons, the wilder noise of horses or deer, and sometimes a coyote or even a mountain cat, can be shattering.
As I crossed Six Mile and turned up the street where my truck sat, I saw someone standing near my vehicle. As I drew closer, I realized the person was twice as tall as the vehicle.
Whatever I was looking at had seen me as it quietly turned to its left, stepped across the narrow street, and disappeared into the historic dirt sidings that fill the acreage there. And while I did not feel threatened, I believe it was prudent to hurry, get in my truck and drive from the area as quickly as possible.
The Old Blog in the Desert 