Newly legalized Cannabis laws notwithstanding, there's more than one way to get "stoned" in the Rocky Mountain state. Come along and get an alternative high with Mark and Bobbie. Yep, Colorado rocks!
"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, June 24, 2015
A couple weeks ago great niece, Megan, and nephew, Dan, blew into Lovely Ouray for a couple of days. They are on a great road trip from Pennsylvania to California and points in between. As of this post I think they are homeward bound, somewhere in Nebraska dodging tornados and lightening.
Sunday, June 21, 2015
Finally, and, I might add, suddenly, summer is here. With temps soaring into the 80's in Lovely Ouray, we've taken to the mountains. Don't it feel good, Jojo, to get back to where you once belonged. All that late spring snow that kept postponing our destiny is now melting down faster than you can say "Chernobyl."
Sunday, June 14, 2015
The Old Horse Thief Trailhead is a Nolan Ryan stone's-throw from our house in Lovely Ouray. In minutes Bobbie and I are zigzagging up its wooded switchbacks, savoring fresh, pine-scented air that we’ve come to expect, but now take for granted. The morning air is cool to bare skin, the trail damp from recent showers. Our bodies and minds soon warm to the uphill task and grudgingly cooperate. Life is still good.
Friday, June 12, 2015
Meet Gary, back county guide, skier, ice climber, and summiteer. After looking at the above photo, most people might jump the the conclusion that he had run-in with some really tough luck. If you look close, it's obvious that his right leg is broken. Notice that there is some sort of external contraption that can be adjusted. It's mounted to his shin and thigh bones. Gruesome as it looks, Gary likes that at least his foot is pointed in the right direction now, unlike after he fell when attempting to ski "The Snake," a narrow, rock-strewn near vertical couloir full of ice and crusted snow on the north side of 14,000 foot Mount Sneffels. Just as it was dawning on Gary to pull up—maybe trade his skis for crampons and climb the hell back up and out of such treacherous and degraded snow conditions—something went horribly wrong.