|Lee Grace Dougherty, failed camper (Associated Press).|
Their mother says, "I'm glad they were found," as though they got lost on a Boy Scout hike. But isn't that always part of the script?
Life in Walsenburg, Colo., was considerably disrupted yesterday.
Back from our supply run to Pueblo today, M. and I ate supper as the sun sat over Holt Mountain and chuckled at such lines as "the remote San Isabel National Forest in southern Colorado" from the Boston Herald.
They camped one night in a pullout off a paved state highway. Not what I call "remote". Not more than two miles away, a road gave access into the heart of the Wet Mountains with many obscure little spur roads off it. But when they were shopping for camping gear and ammo in Colorado Springs and/or Cañon City, they evidently did not pick up national forest maps.
Then they drove down onto Interstate 25 and into their eventual fate. One night in the woods and their nerves failed them?
I tell you, it's sad. No one knows how to hide out in the mountains anymore.