Box Canyon Blog.com

"We are here to unlearn the teachings of the church, state, and our educational system. We are here to drink beer. We are here to kill war. We are here to laugh at the odds and live our lives so well that Death will tremble to take us." C. Bukowski

NOTE: Open post and then Single Click On first Post Photo to view an album in a more detailed, larger format...

Wednesday, July 4, 2018

One Hike, Two Lakes and Four Tired Legs...Oh, and one pair of Ptarmigan, but not in a Pear Tree


I sent out invitations to a few friends to join us for a hike to Bullion King Lake and beyond. Bobbie and I have been itching to try the "beyond" part—up and over the saddle/pass above Bullion King basin—a cross-county search for Columbine Lake. In the ineffable words of Gomer Pyle, "sir-prize, sir-prize, sir-prize;"  Nobody responded to my invitation. Maybe it was the vague wording...or the distinct possibility of an endless, high altitude traipse across tundra and scree and boulders that ends with a 911 call...

Thursday, June 28, 2018

A Gem of an Idea


"Time itself is our tragedy and most of us are fighting some kind of war with it."  The Faraway Nearby, Rebecca Solnit

Wednesday, June 27, 2018

When Words Fail...A pictorial essay from an extraordinary rove Into new territory


Perspective is such a relative construct. When in a room indoors we sense the boundaries and fill it to the brim with self. Only when outdoors, on top of a mountain, can we realize that we are not the story. Just a ripple from a pebble tossed into the sea.

Tuesday, June 26, 2018

Chasing The Muse On Bear Creek Trail


"You can't always get what you want...but if you try sometimes, well you just might find, you get what you need." Rolling Stones

Wednesday, June 20, 2018

A Soaring Ascent Up Mount Abram...because it's there and because we still can and because we still remember the way




"Stories are compasses...we navigate by them, build our sanctuaries and prisons out of them. To be without a story is to be lost in the vastness of a world that spreads in all directions like arctic tundra..." The Faraway Nearby, by Rebecca Solnit

Monday, June 18, 2018

Silence Is Golden


My story-garden oft goes untended during summertime. The hoe becomes rusty lying in untended dirt. Long days beckon. Priorities shift to play. Time slips into the future. Weeds overtake produce.  

Sunday, June 10, 2018

The price of admission


“I have no desire to suffer twice, in reality and then in retrospect.”  Sophocles