dream ranch

blue sky, black coffee

He carries a pack and wears hiking boots instead of Ariat ropers but I think I have found a European Longmire.

Alex Hugo, The Mountain Detective, speaks French and lives in the Alps but he’s an unshaven single man in jeans and rumpled shirts with same kindly, good-guy nature as Walt — Walt of the Valles Caldera and Las Vegas, New Mexico, or as TV would have you believe, Absaroka County, Wyoming.

Like Longmire, Mountain Detective plots have social themes but the chases usually are on foot, often involve rappelling and Alex typically goes unarmed. A stocking cap is more likely headgear than a custom O’Farrell, though I notice you can get an O’Farrell made with 25 percent European hare. And, praise the writers, Alex drives trucks at least as beat up as Walt’s old Bronco.

No offense Craig Johnson, John Coveny and Hunt Baldwin. I remain a Longmire fan and always hope for more. I fear there’s not going to be another Stoney Burke. (By the way, look at the list of Stoney Burke guest stars). I just have found something to fill in the gaps. Click here to Sail.

PS: I take back some of my enthusiasm after getting farther into the series and seeing this line in the French-to-English subtitles: “When I ask him, he clams up like an oyster.”

The setting sun was starting to redden the mountain. I wasn’t doing much. In fact, I had dozed off on the living room couch, working a crossword puzzle after a late pasta lunch. I see the sort-of-wild horses often but this one happened to drift by just as I woke, either a lonely bachelor or the last of a local band on the way to a regular dinner spot across the arroyo. It was a little dreamy. I was still half asleep when I reached for the iPhone. I’m sure this is not how Ansel Adams worked but it beats the heck out of three-star deadline. In retirement from the newspaper biz, this is my revenge for 40 years of working past sunset, even more if you count the dishwashing days.