It's sugar time

GALLUP, N.M.—We arrived at the Hilso Trailhead in the Zuni Mountains outside of Gallup, NM, in the late afternoon. We were meeting friends for a bike ride and a photo shoot, and already before the ride had even started, one of our "models" had opened up a bottle of ice-cold IPA to loosen up a bit. The wasps were on him in no time.

An awesomely skilled rider rails a berm along the trail.

Their legion could be heard as an almost subliminal buzz vibrating beneath the stillness of the forest air, and the chorus of their numbers instilled a wary respect in us. We dove and danced as they dive bombed us one right after another as we struggled to prepare for our ride.

Yellow jackets are always aggressive in the woods in autumn. With just a short time until the first freeze and the first snowfall, the little buggers are on a constant patrol for sugar and water and any other useful provisions that will help them weather the coming period of cold and scarcity. They will not hesitate to sting anyone who gets in the way of their relentless scavenging, and woe unto those who would deliver a careless errant swat; a puff of attack pheromone from the threatened or crippled insect will bring a cloud of swift and speedy justice from the entire tribe.

We are seeing the same type of behavior from the One Percent right now. America's richest, greediest, most-aggressive hoarders are on a hunt for wealth and bargains that will carry them through the quickly-approaching winter of economic cataclysm. Elsewhere, like us poor unfortunates at the trailhead who had naively given the predators a whiff of sweet, wet, fermented barely and hops, people are doing their best to stay out of the way.

We have driven on Route 66 countless times now in the past 12 years or so. It never gets old. The world along the Mother Road provides a glimpse into the True American Condition. This strip of asphalt is a barometer, a harbinger of change and consistency. She seldom lies.

Cruising Route 66 on our way to the turnoff to the trailhead, we saw on this trip what seemed like an increase in the number of vagabonds slowly staggering under the relentless glare of unfiltered sunlight toward whatever kind of promise of redemption had lured them out onto the open road and undefined waypoints east and west. Like carrier pigeons set loose to deliver messages to unnamed recipients, these hobos, with their overstuffed backpacks, threadbare clothing, and grime-darkened skin, are sending a message to anyone who will listen: America is in decline—despite the cheery rhetoric and economic indicators that are routinely fed to the public by politicians and pundits seeking to avoid panic and subsequent meltdown.

It is autumn in America, and the wasps know it all too well.

This is about the only "technical" part of the trail.

Fortunately, bike riding allows us to forget about such things, so off we went into the woods for a spin on some of the finest trails in the Western United States. The McGaffey trail system in the Zuni Mountains offers some of the narrowest, flowiest singletrack in these parts, and it's hard to be morose about the economy or our current choices for president when you are winding in and out of stands of tall ponderosa pine, and darting through ancient groves of Gambel Oak whose amber leaves glow in the shimmering light of late afternoon. Arriving back at the trailhead when the shadows had grown long and the cool hints of early evening had banished most of the wasps, it was easy to nestle into a cool beer and warm conversation about nothing in particular with friends old and new.

Traveling is a good antidote for whatever ails you, which is probably why we're seeing so many people on the road right now—whether their mode of transportation happens to be by car, foot or rail. Like the chorus of the wasps who have seen a breakdown in societal structure and are now searching for sustenance as an unaffiliated group of free agents, the song of the road reminds us that there is opportunity and danger out there. It just depends on what you're looking for.

See you on down the road.