Bag Limit

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I should have been home, sunken comfortably in my leather recliner with a fresh pot of coffee gradually turning to battery acid in the kitchen and my recently purchased copy of Dayne Mercer’s Storm over Chicamauga open on my lap.

Instead, just as the digital clock on the dashboard clicked over to 11:07 PM that Friday night, I turned my county car off the pavement of State Highway 56 and maneuvered twenty yards up a narrow fire road on the northwest flank of Santa Lucia Peak, the second highest hump in the San Cristobal range.

To call the San Cristobals “mountains” might have been a stretch, except for tourists from one of those midwestern places where the highest promontory in the county is the downtown bank building.

The rumpled, weather-scarred Santa Lucia Peak managed 8,117 feet above sea level-a few feet lower than San Cristobal to its west. That lofty height would have been impressive had the mountain’s base been at sea level, instead of the 5,890 feet that it was.

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