Later

I remember, like it was yesterday, an afternoon in Colorado. Just another severe clear day, but suddenly there was a rumbling, then a gush of dirty water over the canyon wall. Walking that country, you could clearly see where water would drain, if there was any, the mini-drainages of a mesa top. Everything sculpted in sandstone. An isolated thunderstorm, miles away, had produced a river that lasted maybe 15 minutes. A personal waterfall with no time to share. I hadn't studied this particular watershed, and thought it was a million years old, and it suddenly became active. Pull up a chair and roll a smoke. As a matter of course, you never build in an out-wash channel. The water flowed long enough to become clear, a prismatic event. And then it was gone, like it never was. The next day I walked the entire affected area, the bunch grass was all laid flat, in the direction of flow, everything was visible. I shot some elevations, with a transit, made some notes, at one point, the napp, coming off the canyon wall, was 16 inches deep and 5 feet wide. There was an actual spout, where it fed into the creek. It's so cool I almost cry. I haven't cried since my cat died in 1978, so that's a big deal, emotion, or the lack of. Pick the areas where you might want to fight, choose the high ground and entrench, attack when it's least expected, I've read "The Art Of War", and several other books as well, and what I learned is that the best offense is a good defense, trap anyone whenever you can. Later, when they demand your identity, you can disavow any knowledge.