I have to admit that the thought of encounters with the US Border Patrol used to terrify me. I was driving an antique bus, Patrick wasn't wearing a seatbelt, we had a mad pug that might start barking uncontrollably at the crossing guards.
We left Coyote Creek to the last of the golden Aspen leaves blowing on the wind. It was a paint with all the "Colors of the Wind" moment if you get the reference. Hard to leave this place but the knowledge that they pulled the plug and shut off the water on Halloween morning prompted us to get up and head down the mountain that Sunday before.