Fill up your 'cuppa, it's storytime! (for those that have the time; it's long!)

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I hope to get back on the bike in a day or two, but today was for walking on this mostly sunny but cold Monday afternoon in Montrose. I can only handle one dog/time, so I gave the nod to Percy today, because he showed the most determination to go. I’ll admit it’s hard to judge who holds the edge in the “I want to go with the boss!” contest with these two guys, however.

Starting out at a fast pace to get out of our busy neighborhood, we hustled to put all of the noise, traffic, and bustle from Rio Grande Avenue behind us. We slowed down a bit and breathed a little easier when we got to the old railroad grade trail along the Uncompahgre River. I wanted to check out the new pedestrian bridge across the river, which connects bikers to the shopping center south of town. The new bridge was in place, but needs a week or so of road grading, etc. (if weather permits, that is).

Percy and I headed up the steep hill towards Grand View Cemetery on Sunset Mesa. On the way up, I run into a friend, Linda Gann, who is walking her dog Lincoln; it was nice to chat before going our separate ways. The trail up the mesa ends up at the southernmost soccer field. At this point, I looked out at the vista surrounding me. Three hundred sixty degrees of montane beauty!

Usually, when on a walk with great scenery, I enjoy looking off at mountains and valleys in the distance, identifying their names. But this time, as my eyes slowly swept the horizon, starting in the south, rotating eastward, northward, westward, and then finishing up at the south again, I saw not just geographic features, but felt a vivid outpouring of memories, both happy and bittersweet.

Courthouse Peak, Precipice and Uncompahgre Peaks, and the spiny Cimmarons ... memories of sitting around the campfire, beers and soda cooling in the stream, bits of steak roasting on sticks as Mara, Lindi, and Lee cavort around the campsite. Chimney Peak looming just to our west … Mom, and sister Babs, both gone now, adding liveliness to our campfire conversation, though mom is starting to fade a bit from dementia, and cann’t remember everything we talk about; but she still had that great “mom smile” she was always known for. Babs inherited that smile, and gave it her own sweet and kindly twist. How I miss both smiles deeply…

Next, eyes turned eastward, Rt 50, Cerro Summit, and lands beyond … dozens of trips over Cerro Summit, sledding with the kids on the big hill there, a cracked rib after being ejected from my big innertube and skittering across some frozen tire ruts. Lindi mowing down a kid who was standing in the middle of the slope and didn’t see her coming. Staring with awe at the huge granite cliffs with the antenna farm on top. Numerous trips to Gunnison to watch Lindi run with her team.

A bit further north, and I see the access road to the Black Canyon, superbly maintained by two folks I know and admire: Edd Franz, BLM, and Paul Zaenger, much loved Park Ranger. Long walks with the kids along the Warner Point Trail, when they were still young enough that we worried constantly about one of them slipping off the edge of the scary cliffs along the trail. The 700 year old Juniper tree, which saw the progression of humanity from ancient Native Americans clad in animal skins, to current inhabitants walking by in Patagonia gear. A steep climb down to the river with Lindi and Jan one day, culminating in a freezing “soak” in the river to relieve our leg muscles...

Northward to Lamborn Peak, Paonia, and the West Elk Mountains. Many trips over McClure Pass on my way to Carbondale and Solar Energy International; at first taking solar classes, then helping teach them. Solar ovens filled with succulent delights awaited us after classes in the evening, lots of smiles music, and laughter amongst people whose vision of the future I share. Stopping to get an ice cream cone with the kids at the tiny town of Redstone along the aptly named Crystal River. The beauty of the Crystal River, and the hot springs at the side of the road. Good times and Pizza in Paonia at “Pizza My Heart”, and, later, Louie’s Pizza. Movies at the Paradise Theater with friends.

Turning to the north, Grand Mesa dominates the horizon. Cross country skiing with Jan and friends through the alpine forests at 11,000 feet; hiking along Crag Crest in the summertime, seeking relief from the baking heat in the valleys; only to be swarmed by mosquitos. Sledding with Mara, Lindi, and Lee on the sledding hill across from Ward Lake. Just off the northwest tip of the mesa, the haze over Grand Junction recalls trips there to drop first Mara, then Lee, off at the Greyhound Station, or to the train station, for their return trips to school after the holidays. Waving at them through the windows with suppressed tears as they left the station.

To the northwest, I see the northern end of the Uncompahgre. Jan, the kids and I would “break the winter fast” with trips to McInnis Canyon in February or March with hikes through the spectacular red sandstone canyons. We would head for a high spot below “Mushroom Rock” to spread out a lunchtime smorgasboard in the warm winter sunshine; keeping a wary eye out for kids getting too close to the edge.

A bit further south, a defile that represents Dominguez Canyon. Many hikes with Jan, Terry, and others on the round trip through the solemn, magnificent tall sandstone cliffs to get to the petroglyphs. Dogs splashing in the creek, hiding cans of soda in the cold stream on a hot day, to be retrieved on the hike back for a refreshing break. Admiring the sculpted sandstone columns that look like Egyptian Statuary along the Nile. Bighorn sheep grazing on the steep talus slopes underneath the ancient cliffs. Rock art left by the Utes, as well as earlier tribes; and bullet holes left by pioneers.

Turning to the west, I see the top of the plateau, and recall mountain bike rides on the Aspen Trail in the summertime. Sluicing at high speed through the pines and aspens, pulling off at the grave of Fat Fred, with it’s beer bottlecaps driven into the surrounding aspens, and beer cans on his grave. Stopping at the overlook of southern Colorado and Utah, with a wide panoramic view of the San Juans, the La Sals, and the Henry Mountains; so much beauty to see in one sight! So many adventures await to be experienced! Hearing the bugling of an elk, which at first I could have sworn was a cement truck screeching to a halt with bad brakes, until I realized that wasn’t possible in the wilderness! Another time, hearing a huge commotion that sounded like a bunch of rednecks whooping it up several miles below in the woods, only to realize soon enough that it was instead dozens of coyotes singing while in pursuit of a wounded elk.

Further south along the Uncompahgre Plateau, I see Log Hill, where I installed a large solar system on a new home; such hard work laying all of the radiant heating system, buried solar tank, a large solar thermal array, etc. Many trips in my work truck to and from the jobsite through the beautiful forests on the side of the plateau.

Directly south, I see the cleft in the San Juans where the Uncompahgre River has cut a valley through the high mountains between Ridgway and Ouray over millions of years. Lots of hikes with the kids up to Ouray Mine, Twin Peaks, Bridge of Heaven, sometimes followed by a soak in the Ouray Hot Springs Pool. A Christmas Bus taking the Northside Elementary teachers to the Buen Tiempo Restaurant when Jan was a new teacher there. Many steep climbs up the Sutton Mine Trail to the beautiful meadows above Ouray, looking down on the Million Dollar Highway, crushed cars in the stream 500 feet below the road. Bear Creek Waterfall far below us. Memories of Jan and I passing through in our younger days, curling up warm inside our tent below Blaine Basin, wishing we could live here in this beautiful place; and now wishing I could return to those days...

Finally, my gaze ends up on the two hills that comprise the Ridgway Area Trail System (the RAT). Terry Rust and I huffing our way up the steep trails, a quick lunch break, then careening happily down the rollercoaster trails back into the alley below, pretending, for a moment, that we are in our twenties again. Hubble and Percy running beside us, we stop occasionally to admire the beauty of the San Juans to the south and east. A poem inspired by the magnificent view. The exhilaration of riding along with a flock of Stellar’s Jays as they bob along the trail along with me at high speed...

My thoughts are interrupted as Percy pulls me out of my reverie, tugging on the leash. “Come on, boss; what’re we waiting for?!”. So ... we continue our walk, down the winding trail back into town; I have to make dinner before Jan gets home.