Header Photo

Journal and Photos of a Wanderer
Header Photo: Enroute to Mount Abram's summit

Thursday, September 3, 2015

Idling Along

It's like the Wizard of Oz in reverse, as if plucked from the canyon bosom of Lovely Oz by some twister and thrust on to the tedious, featureless plains of Kansas. Behold, our vertiginous mountain surround lies hidden behind a dreary pall of clouds that hover just above city limits.

Wednesday, August 26, 2015

To My Fellow Fiscal Conservatives and The Right Wing Lunatic Fringe At Large…

Speaking of "carnage," man, what a mess in the GOP… a 16 ring circus with "barker" The Donald smack in the middle and seemingly running the sideshow. Lordy. What's next, mud wrestling?

Saturday, August 22, 2015

I Fall To Pieces

"It could be worse," I whisper—a mantra so overused lately it's as pointless as a dried out, sun rotted rubber band, the one that falls into as many pieces as Patsy Cline's poor broken heart.

Wednesday, August 19, 2015

No Simple Task

“One day I will find the right words, and they will be simple.” 
(Jack Kerouac, The Dharma Bums)

Saturday, August 15, 2015

Strolling Ironton, Guston, Yankee Girl, Colorado Boy… A Summer Versus Winter Perspective

With legs and lungs in need of a break from the vertical realities of this part of the Rocky Mountains, Bobbie and I suggested a "strolling exploration" of some old mining ruins and ghost towns up on "Red." 

Thursday, August 13, 2015

I'm Still Here, and, On My Conversion To Fatalism

The surgery to reduce my Battle Of The Bulge is finally over, and—much to my amusement and your entertainment—I'm still here, peeking out the Imax Window while pecking out another post from a vast archive of hikes recently celebrated with The Gang.

Tuesday, August 11, 2015

Alone At The Top

Twin Peaks is a hike that resembles a climb, a favorite of mine ever since the day we met. They stand like sentinels, watching over Lovely Ouray some 2.5 trail-miles and 2000 vertical feet above town. I can't look at them without wishing I was up there, gazing down off boot-tips at our canyon-bound hamlet.