Saturday, November 18, 2017
Sunday, November 12, 2017
Tuesday, November 7, 2017
Since we were camped nearby, Bobbie and I swung into Escalante Petrified Forest State Park for a short hike through some fossilized trees. Having seen a considerable amount of petrified wood, I was more or less there for the hike. Man-oh-man, did I ever underestimate this place. The grounds were littered with gem quality stones...more colors than a rainbow trout.
Saturday, November 4, 2017
Tired and battered, we found a spot of shade in which to lunch and recover from exploring slot canyons Peekaboo and Spooky. Our mis-guidebook said Brimstone Slot was only 20 minutes down-wash, which proved false on such a sunburnt day. Anyway, I'm glad for the the author's misguided optimism because, if truth was told, we may have left Brimstone for another day...as in next year.
Monday, October 30, 2017
"Those who are truly decrepit, living corpses, so to speak, are the middle-aged, middle-class men and women who are stuck in comfortable grooves and imagine that the status quo will last forever or else are so frightened it won’t that they have retreated into mental bomb shelters to wait it out."
Henry Miller, reflecting on the art of living in 1939.
Tuesday, October 24, 2017
Bobbie and I have slogged, slithered, and sloshed through many Utah slot canyons over the years, but none so slender, confining, graceful, and exhilarating as Peekaboo, Spooky, and Brimstone. Warning: If you are bothered by attenuated places, things like crowded elevators,suffocating MRI procedures, or hotel beds with sheets tucked tight as a straightjacket, these slots are not for you.
Saturday, October 21, 2017
Thursday, October 19, 2017
Sunday, October 15, 2017
Tuesday, October 10, 2017
Bobbie and I managed to squeeze in a town-hike before wind, snow, and cold arrived. Thought you might enjoy seeing Lovely Ouray all dressed up in fall colors. Today is D-Day, thus, of course, we are hauling the last loads out to Goldie with temps in the teens. I'm dressed in shorts and a t-shirt, so burrrr!
Saturday, October 7, 2017
We harvested Ms Autumn's glory at her peak of ripeness, from on high to valley low. Though not a perfect "10" this year, fall lingers like a lost puppy with nowhere to go. It's a nice change of pace for mountain folk facing the inevitable prospect of 6 months of snow and cold. With that in mind we load Rv Goldie. She waits patiently in our driveway, itching to roll us west into fabulous Utah.
Thursday, October 5, 2017
Saturday, September 30, 2017
On a bench above Lovely Ouray, the return route for our twice-weekly (read: weakly) 8 mile walk-with-handweights, Bobbie and I take a break and rest our eyes on Lake Lenore. It's a bucolic, Mayberry-like setting, what with the rainbow of inverted canoes lying in repose near shore, leaves of quaking aspen fluttering in the breeze, and a Whitehouse massif backdrop that, lately, lives up to its name. About the only thing missing is "Opie," skipping stones on the lake's placid green surface, while Andy and Aunt Bee look on in admiration.
Thursday, September 28, 2017
"And Jacob went out from Beer-sheba, and went toward Haran. And he lighted upon the place and tarried there all night, because the sun was set; and he took one of the stones of the place and put it under his head and lay down in that place to sleep. And he dreamed, and behold a ladder set up on the earth, and the top of it reached to heaven; and behold the angels of God ascending and descending on it." Genesis 28:10-19
Monday, September 25, 2017
The day after a profound autumn downpour in Lovely Ouray, Bobbie and I joined a group of hiking friends and their dog-children for a hike up to (one of several) Ouray Overlook viewpoints. There is nothing quite like the aroma of wet leaves and foliage, a dusting of trackless snow on the trail, and the feeling of drawing deep breaths of chilled air to better set the mood for a transition to winter. Ahhhh...
Saturday, September 23, 2017
Friday was a walk-with-weights day, but we woke to thick fog, gusts of wind, and sheets of come and go rain. Oh the weather in Le Crevice lately. It's still too warm for snow to persist on the peaks, and schizo aspen and oak brush don't know whether it's spring, summer, or fall.
Thursday, September 21, 2017
Tuesday, September 19, 2017
Bobbie and I got together for one last hike with the peripatetic "better half" of Life's Little Adventurers, Gayle. With Jim on Injured Reserve from a Pickle Ball mishap, we were free to wander around at timberline to our heart's content. :)
Sunday, September 17, 2017
Left of center—scarcely noticeable when photographed at such an angle—lies noble Twin Peaks, two of the jewels in Lovely Ouray's mountain crown. "Little Sister," another jewel, stands alone right of center, a solitary lesser sibling, rivaling for attention.
Friday, September 15, 2017
Thursday, September 14, 2017
Disregarding a forecast for afternoon thunderstorms, Box Canyon met Jim and Gayle of "Life's Little Adventures" at Silverton's Visitor's Center.
Thursday, September 7, 2017
We've been lucky this summer. Up till the past week or so, southwest Colorado has not been subjected to most of the haze and smoke from infernos north and west of here. But for the monsoons extending their stay well into August, there go we.
Tuesday, September 5, 2017
Thursday, August 31, 2017
"It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct (to Hell)." Charles Dickens
Sunday, August 27, 2017
Not even my Bobbie App could remember when we last hiked to Hope Lake; 20, maybe even 30 years? The only thing I recall is that we turned around at Hope Lake Pass...didn't hike the measly extra mile down to water's edge, something inexcusable by today's standards.
Tuesday, August 22, 2017
“The roads of life are paved wide and skirt the mountains. And these very roads are choked with a steady stream of pathetically pedantic travelers who in reality have no intent of traveling. And if we are to discover the real travelers, much less join them, we will find them out on precarious paths that defy the roads and scale the mountains.” Craig D. Lounsbrough
Sunday, August 20, 2017
Thursday, August 10, 2017
We set off at the crack of dawn (ok, 7:15). It was a dual-purpose day: goal one, get some exercise; goal two, photograph wildflowers up in The Secret Garden. But sometimes Jesus doesn't answer my prayers, and lately, it seems, He doesn't even take my calls.
Friday, August 4, 2017
Wednesday, August 2, 2017
If ever in Lovely Ouray, the Perimeter Trail is a convenient hiking option with, well, lots of options. This 7 mile circumferential trail encircles town, undulating over 1500 feet through hill, dale, and forest, and can be accessed, or bailed from, at numerous points along the way...in case you get hungry, thirsty, tired, or an insatiable craving for a Scrap Cookie from Mouse's Chocolates.
Sunday, July 30, 2017
As with overbearing mother-in-laws who overstay their welcome, winter extended its stay in Lovely Ouray till almost summer, and I believe the extra snow may have put a dent in the usual wildflower extravaganza. That, along with a recent hail storm that shredded a good deal of alpine foliage, means I've yet to score the "LSD high" normally associated with wildflower seasons in the Rockies...I'm talking the glaze-eyed bejeweled kaleidoscope 3D Imax version of Fantasia kind. The search is on!
Wednesday, July 26, 2017
Far better it is to dare mighty things, to win glorious triumphs, even though checkered by failure... than to rank with those poor spirits who neither enjoy nor suffer much, because they live in a gray twilight that knows not victory nor defeat. Theodore Roosevelt
Monday, July 24, 2017
“As flies to wanton boys are we to the gods.
They kill us for sport.” King Lear, William Shakespeare.
Friday, July 21, 2017
Picking up from the last post, Bobbie and I were studying the precipitous, sun-cupped slab of frozen snow that stood like a raised drawbridge between us and a 13er summit. Undeterred and un-deteoured, I ventured onto the ice in order to test its resilience against attempts to stomp/carve a reasonable path. They were promptly rebuffed, which hatched a kaleidoscope of butterflies in my stomach. I could feel toes trying to clench a grip on the snow through the soles of my boots. One slip and I'm a human bobsled, going for the "gold."
Wednesday, July 19, 2017
It's easy to say I'm not cursed, that I am blessed: lucky in just having the chance to come...steal a moment in such a high place. Andy Kirkpatrick, Psycho Vertical.
Sunday, July 16, 2017
You see it from afar, sandwiched mightily in a noticeable gap, a snowcapped pyramid as magical and powerful those found along River Nile in Egypt. It's true what they say, you know, about the Powers inherent in Pyramidal shapes. I've seen it for myself. Weird shit...like finding my normally dull pocketknife honed to a razor's edge after ascending Abrams Pyramidal peak. And then there are stories...rumors of old men with vasectomies who, upon return, impregnate unassuming women with tied tubes. FYI Geezers, lest you desire putting yet another rugrat through college or your Social Security check halved by child support payments, I recommend abstaining from sex for at least a week after climbing Abram.
Thursday, July 13, 2017
Wednesday, July 5, 2017
Sunday, July 2, 2017
Wednesday, June 28, 2017
Sunday, June 25, 2017
Friday, June 23, 2017
I was in a funk last week (you may have noticed). It was one of those glass-half-empty weeks; barely energy enough to do what I need to do in order to keep a grip on sanity. It takes a toll, doing what I need to do in order to combat the minute by minute scroll of apocalyptic headlines.
Thursday, June 22, 2017
31 years ago, lakeside—in the burgeoning morning twilight on the first day of summer—a small wedding party climbed into a couple of rickety wicker baskets attached by rope to hot air balloons. With a deafening blast and flame, they ascended in unison...earth shrinking, love expanding...smiles all around. An acrophobic Justice of the Peace wondered out loud why in Christ's name he ever agreed to this gig.
Wednesday, June 21, 2017
Saturday, June 17, 2017
More Mountain Spam... A Windy Hike to Ouray Overlook and a couple new Glacading Videos from Black Bear hike
Another day in paradise...even if we didn't get above timberline (sigh) nor conjure up a single drop of adrenaline (double sigh).
Thursday, June 15, 2017
Sara N. Dippity found us wandering around in the mountains yesterday, and stopped to say "Hello." It's been a while since our paths crossed. Then again, maybe I'm underestimating her cunning ways of slipping in and out without notice, you know, all those little things in life that we sometimes take for granted. The "thing" with "Sara" is, she only meets you halfway. It's up to us to get out of our chairs or cars.
Tuesday, June 13, 2017
Bridge of Heaven is a long, but Heavenly hike; 10.6 miles roundtrip from our doorstep, to be exact. Old Horse Thief Trail adjoins the Bridge of Heaven Trail on a grassy ridge line I can spy from our living room. When put together, the two trails ascend an astonishing 4,000 feet in just over 5 miles, and lands you on a precipice that overlooks a cavernous glacial basin...so eroded, so rotten of rock, so impossible to traverse that Big Horn ewes choose it as the ideal place to "lamb."
Sunday, June 11, 2017
It has been an exhausting, thus grand week, having notched three colossal hike-ascents on our "climbing belts." Number two was a summit on Lovely Ouray's sentinel, Twin Peaks. It's a hike to my liking, a grinding workout with a thrilling payoff, and no logistics beyond checking the forecast. Simply walk out the front door and trek.
Saturday, June 10, 2017
In regard to extreme outdoor endeavors: Embrace them as challenges...un-forgettable, un-regrettable moments of triumph that carry us through doldrum times, or when such things have slipped beyond our grasp. Box Canyon Mantra: