The gale blew itself out overnight. In its wake comes the gentle pitter pat of raindrops on rooftops; it settles the dust and scrubs Lovely Ouray clean like a fresh coat of paint. Out the Imax, clouds swing low in veils, masking, except for a few teasing apertures, our steep surround of mountains. Steam rises vertically from the Hot Springs Pool. Golden leaves glisten with moisture and are still for the first time in days. Bobbie steps out onto the deck to gauge temperature—arms wrapped protectively against her chest, breath floating off to join the clouds. "Forty something," she guesses.Yesterday's demons have been purged, and all is well in The Crevice once again.
Final batch of photos from Ice Lakes. Enjoy with coffee and danish, and have a good weekend where ever you are...
|Glenn and Marathon Man Leonard|
|Martha checks the map to get a fix on our position...It doesn't seem to matter to Tim :)|
|Gore Tex hiking boots are over-rated and overpriced. Tho my feet are wet in these lightweight, inexpensive running shoes, wool socks keep them warm|
|Bobbie starts the long trek down...different muscles are required for the descent|
|Glenn tests both fate and the traction of his new hiking shoes by walking out on this slanted-to-the-abyss ledge...|
|Avalanches from the above cliffs reach terminal velocity in this chute, keeping trees pretty much mowed to the ground. I wouldn't want to be crossing here during winter, but some do...|
|Having worked up an appetite, we descend en mass to the Bear Cafe in Silverton...growing quiet after the last tourist train's retreat to Durango.|