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depicts the pishkun and refutes the explorers' accounts. Bob
told me that he also intends to solve the mystery of why the
native plants Lewis and Clark collected and stashed at De-
cision Point in Loma were never found. Ever the iconoclast,
Bob has quite a few areas of interest that he feels bear revis-
iting. I confessed that, though I was not equipped to judge
the veracity of his claims, hearing them espoused with such
verve made them sound pretty darn com-
pelling.
As I headed home, not in a pirogue
but in the cab of a pickup filled nearly to
capacity with my two dogs, Ranger and
Charlie, I reflected that we'll probably
never know precisely what really hap-
pened in those few scant months in the
early years of the 19th century. But we
can sure argue about it over a beer or a
cup of coffee.
Somehow, while taking a scenic detour,
Ranger, Charlie, and I ended up a bit lost
on a backroad turned to slush by the late
thaw. I wasn't sure how to get back to the highway or, in fact,
where exactly I was at all.
Flummoxed, I stopped the truck, pulled over, and looked
my crew right in their furry eyes.
"All right, Lewis and Clark," I said. "Which way do we go?"
I WASN'T SURE HOW
TO GET BACK TO THE HIGHWAY OR,
IN FACT, WHERE EXACTLY I WAS AT ALL.
"All right, Lewis and Clark,"
I said. "Which way do we go?"
