To My Fellow Fiscal Conservatives and The Right Wing Lunatic Fringe At Large…

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?

I Fall To Pieces

"It could be worse," I whisper—a mantra so overused lately it's as pointless as a dried out, sun rotted rubber band, the one that falls into as many pieces as Patsy Cline's poor broken heart.

No Simple Task

“One day I will find the right words, and they will be simple.” 
(Jack Kerouac, The Dharma Bums)

Strolling Ironton, Guston, Yankee Girl, Colorado Boy… A Summer Versus Winter Perspective

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." 

I'm Still Here, and, On My Conversion To Fatalism

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.

Alone At The Top

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.

A Rails-to-Trails (and backroad) Ride To Ridgway Reservoir

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.