May your trails be crooked, winding, lonesome, dangerous, leading to the most amazing view. May your mountains rise into and above the clouds. Edward Abbey
Once upon a time long, long ago, Bobbie and a few girlfriends hiked 11 rocky, high altitude miles from Crested Butte to Aspen. After spending the night, they turned around and hiked all the way back the next day. She's always wanted to reprise that adventure so, knowing Suzanne was going to be boondocking above Crested Butte, Bobbie asked if she was up for it. Being a strict disciple of the philosophy that it's better to risk regret and do, than to play it safe, leave undone, and regret it more, Suzanne agreed. We all have regrets for things we've done. But the greatest regrets of all are for chances not taken, places left unexplored, dreams not attempted.
Speaking of not doing things, I was still on I. R., and thus elected chairman the "Logistics" committee… which means I got to drive, haul bags, pick up, drop off, and cheerlead.
In case you haven't noticed, there's "a new girl in town." Suzanne has evolved into a hiking machine, incapable of turning down audacious adventures on the trail. I believe the seeds for her trail-dust lust were sown last fall in Capital Reef where she pushed herself to heights and distances most refugees from "The Cube" would have thought out of reach.
A few weeks later, Zion tested her resolve further (there are always "tests," eh?), things like scrambling 13 miles of creek boulders with umpteen "feet wet" stream crossings in order to experience the indescribable "Subway," or a near vertical red rock ascent to "The Temple," or a last minute decision to conquer "Angel's Landing," with its psyche-job of sheer cliff exposure. As in Life, each trail victory builds confidence such that sights get set higher and higher and higher. Suddenly you wake up in Lovely Ouray, a place with mountains so lofty you can't possibly aim higher with out wings.
All too often Newbies—as well as many, if not most, long term full-timers, as well as those awaiting their Rv escape—think the Rv Dream is all about rolling down the "Highway," gazing out the windshield at what only can be seen from the road and a few overcrowded viewpoints along canyon rims. Dream bigger. I would offer that you might just find that it is the trail into those canyons (and up mountains) that returns the greatest rewards, not the driver's seat. The idea is to get out of the rig or toad and explore, to go further, build endurance and confidence and maybe even get back into "shape."
I remember a hundred lovely lakes, and recall the fragrant breath of pine and fir and cedar and poplar trees. The trail has strung upon it, as upon a thread of silk, opalescent dawns and saffron sunsets. Hamlin Garland
Now here's a few of Bobbie's photos from the hike…
And the rewards are sooo much sweeter, Right gals? :)