Lost in Mendo

Like old chowderhead
One presses on where the pavement
Ends,
All the C A U T I ON signs
Riddled with bullets
But you persist
Following the gravel
Curving through tunnels of oak & madrone,
Across beat creosote bridges
Where no water runs,
Further & further into switchback mountains
Winding out in low gears for many miles
To the inevitable fork
And of course, all the arrows
Missing.
Nothing to do but guess south?
On Mendocino County Road 431
Miles of rude harrowing timber access,
You've no idea where you're headed
Sliding in dust to the axles,
Lurching over potholes sticks & loose rocks,
The rusted Ford pickup rolled in the ditch--
Then suddenly the close trees
Open to bluffs & ocean headlands
Stark bright golden star
Shining over white Pacific fogbank
Far as the eye can see.