Ms Autumn Has Left The Building
It's over. Our first winter storm is currently blowing into Lovely Ouray. As I write this, dismal clouds dangle low, hiding our mountain surround.
It's over. Our first winter storm is currently blowing into Lovely Ouray. As I write this, dismal clouds dangle low, hiding our mountain surround.
It's over. Our first winter storm is currently blowing into Lovely Ouray. As I write this, dismal clouds dangle low, hiding our mountain surround.
Grand Turk and Sultan Peaks watch over a Sleepy Silver-Mining town and those laid to rest. Below, is how young men used to die in Silverton...Of
One of the many things I love about winter outings is that it keeps me occupied in the present where I belong.What can I say. It was yet another
"Laughter is the sun that drives winter from the human face." Victor HugoI try to look at six-month high country winters as lessons in
Notice Lovely Ouray in the above photo, nestled at the base of our soaring, snowcapped San Juan Mountains. Bobbie and I departed early, before
It was early morning, about sunup, when Bobbie and I began trading suggestions for our daily hike. A recent spell of dry and mild weather had pushed
Some of the finest views lie at the end of difficult climbs. And there's certainly no lack of nearby trails and/or peaks from which one can
We don't stop hiking because we grow old, we grow old because we stop hiking...Yep, it's Restless and Ruthless of "Two Old Broads"
It's that time of year. High up groves of aspen—now all but bare of leaves—assume a austere stick-figure mood. Old Man Winter lurks just around
As I pen this post, fall is collapsing into winter. Higher up, aspens and oak brush are beating a retreat to dormancy. Leaves are fast to lose their
"...if I were a bird, I would fly about the Earth seeking successive autumns." George EliotI know, I know. Brevity makes for a fond
To me, and hopefully most of my dear outdoor type readers, the most appreciable aspect regarding hiking, biking or even walking (yes, walking), is
I suppose it's curiosity that drives Bobbie and I to push deeper into mountainous backcountry...that and a compulsion to be alone.As most of you
"From dream to dream and rhyme to rhyme I have ranged / In rambling talk with an image of air: / Vague memories, nothing but memories."