"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, August 26, 2015
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
Wednesday, August 19, 2015
Saturday, August 15, 2015
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
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
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.
Saturday, August 8, 2015
Debbie, a steadfast member of the Red Rocks Gang, availed her service as Subaru Valet Bicycle Pickup for our ride to Ridgway Reservoir. Turned out we needed two Valets, so Kimbopolo drove a second Sue Bee. We agreed to meet at Taco Del Gnar for lunch—the Gnar standing for gnarly, which is the absolute, if not understated, truth.
Thursday, August 6, 2015
While To Simplify Glenn was breaking a lonely, high altitude camp, somewhere deep in the scary wilderness about 10 "Crow-fly" miles from Red Mountain Pass, The Gang (minus two, plus four) were disembarking a convoy of vehicles in preparation for a road hike to the summit of Red Mountain Three. Climbing to 13,000 feet, on a steeple steep road, on tired legs, in wind gusts enough to make us walk like a bunch of drunken sailors after a night out on the town, wasn't nearly as easy as it sounds.
Wednesday, August 5, 2015
Saturday, August 1, 2015
If there is one hike we never tire of repeating it is the trek to Bullion King Lake and beyond, to one of several 13,000 foot plus ridge line saddles that connect a series of ragged peaks. The upper basin is indescribable—beyond words, but hopefully not beyond postcards.