A long walk.

A few pics from our long walk along the Beaver Brook Trail. I think we trotted about twelve miles of it, full circle. Juneau probably went over twenty, with all his back-and-forthness, and he's been lounging on the couch since. It's been nice.

I see a face in this one. An icy gargoyle.

Again, the camera does no justice. The open space here was awe inspiring.

Steve and Mandy . . .

Joe and Missy, it was great to see y'all!

Joe taught a man to fish.

Thanks, Joe.

I thought I'd ordered falafel, but apparently never did. The girl behind the counter suggested lemon hookah, and so we partook. This is a regular stop for me - a good mid-point on my march down Colfax, from Mark and Jodi's.

Joe was supposed to meet Zachary, but he's no longer employed there. Anyone there on one of my previous visits would clearly understand why (not that it had anything to do with me). It's a long story, and I recall little of it now. Ask Mark.

Young Love.

The Other End of Fall, in the city . . .

After two years in Phoenix, it's so good to see snow again out the window.

So I've been negligent. We had fall. Pictures do it no justice.

Pictures do it little justice. You can't hear, or see the aspen's shivering anticipation of the coldness to come.

It's incredible.

Somehow fall passed me by without my taking any good shots of its splendor in the city.

Biking to and from work each day, I kept reminding myself to bring my camera, but I'm not much for clear thinking in the AM, and never did.

Next year.

A few things about my friends . . . Tom

I once drove to Tom's house in Burke. I think I hadn't seen him in quite a while. I rang the door bell, and he greeted me with, "Your breath smells like a bowling alley."

Tom once had an inch long hair growing from his cheek, just above his shaveline. When I pointed it out to him, he responded, "Ah, it'll pass."

Tom, Shane and I got ass backwards lost in the Badlands, SD, one summer. We got fried in the plains' sun. That night, there was a horrific storm and it seemed our tent was blowing in from all sides. The coyotes were screaming like terrified school children on the neighboring knoll. Shane burst out of a nightmare, howling, believing one of his big toes was being lopped off. Tom and I, both wide awake, already terrified, settled him down and he passed right out again. Tom gave his life to God that night, but then rescinded the next eve, stating he would truly give his life to Christ if Pizza Hut delivered us a miraculous pizza, where we were.

He later gave his life to Christ, and I'd like to talk to him about how that's going. He once asked me to come back to the fold.

After a day or more in the backcountry, Tom's known to incessantly fantasize over Pizza Hut pizza.

Loveland Pass, CO . . . the first real snow.

This was the pic I meant to post . . .

This one instead of the first in that last series, which was basically a vertical repeat of an earlier pic. What I mean to say is, Lookatwhatthelightdidnow!

Light was spectacular at 14,000! I took 122 pics, marveling at what the sun and clouds were doing with the ground and horizon - most didn't come out, as I was using a digital on auto, and couldn't see the LCD display in the light.

Rog, you would've had a hayday with your medium format. It's moving up from the end of my list, as far as handy hiking tools.

A final few from Bierdstadt.

More pics from Bierdstadt . . .

Those funny little snowball flakes I was telling you about.

Bierdstadt Peak, Arapahoe National Forest, CO

Here are a few pics from my first 14er. Altogether an awesome hike, though my lungs were killing me and I thought for sure I was going to pass out several times.

It snowed there this morning, and then snowed these little round balls (like a fluffy hail?) right as we got to the summit.

June's came and ran circles around me, as usual.

On the drive up, he was thrown from the car window when I stomped on the brakes to avoid hitting a deep pot hole. No more than 5 seconds later, he was dumping on the side of the road. The experience truly scared the shit out of him, but not enough that he'd back off on hanging half out the window.

Aside from the defenestration incident, he had a great day too.

More pics to come. I took 122.

Junes

For those friends who haven't met Juneau.

He's starting to chill out a bit. It's nice.

There's something across the street he obsesses over all day. At times, he's practically catatonic. I haven't figured out what he sees, but it hangs out near the dumpster.

Whatever it is, he adores it.

A more recent, sober acrylic.

It's yet unfinished. I plan to put river rocks on the ground stretching off into the distance - but haven't had the guts to try and put them in, yet. I'm a little bit stuck.

I've had a few drinks on several occasions and have been tempted to draw them in with black and brown sharpies - but that would brake both rules . . . the acrylic one, and the sober one.

So I'll hold off until I figure it out. Kev advised against the sharpy idea, but it's still lingering as an easy out. Plus, then it would be mixed media.

Pics on the home . . .

Kev's recent pic on his blog of the darkening blue sky with the trailing lights reminded me of this series I took outside of Phoenix, now taped to a wall in my apartment.

The other's an oil painting I tried in Phoenix, on my balcony, when I learned drinking and oil painting don't mix, for several obvious reasons, but most notably . . .

Geoff, you called seconds after I knocked over (and shattered) a jar of kerosene full of diluted red oil paint. It was a drunken, messy moment that tooks days of elbow-grease to try to erase.

Not unlike certain conversations I've had in a similar state of mind.

When I moved out, somehow, I was charged two-hundred bucks for stuff I completely disagree with (e.g a $40 trash removal fee I attribute to a Starbucks cup I left on the kitchen counter). I wasn't, however, charged for the gigantic, crimson, crimescene-esque stain I tried so hard to scrub off the concrete floor.

The pic is part of the painting now hanging in the dining room. When I look at it, I miss seeing the saguaro towering everywhere, lined in the strip malls and scattered throughout the open desert spaces. At the same time, I'm relieved I skipped town before the 118 degrees set in.

I haven't oil-painted since.

Sticking to acrylic and painting sober.

More of the Georgetown Loop

The sulfur smell.

The spent ash, falling on our faces.

The resonance of the shrill whistle in our chests.

The lurching.

The early Autumn breeze and the late Summer sun at high altitude. (I got fried, totally disregarding the sun as I was comfortably in long sleeves.)

It was a beautiful day, altogether.

Tom, thought of you, and your lamenting the passing of the caboose in the name of practicality and faster commerce.

The Narrow Gauge at Georgetown, CO

Gaaaaame POINT . . .

Ah, bikers and their chaps, leather, and best of all . . . the tassels.

I understand the leather. I'd want it too, if I layed a bike down on the highway. The chaps, not so much. The tassels bring back fond, and sadly, not so distant memories of Ocean City, MD.

I particularly enjoy when they have the tassels streaming from their handlebars. I like to yell things like, "Hey, your sister wants her bike back!" or, "WHY NOT A BANANA SEAT, TOO!?"

With the windows up, of course.

Mariah dares me to do it with the windows down, but as testament to the fact that i never have, i'm still here writing this post.

She also dared me to take this pic, and practically demanded it go on the blog.

Game point.

Happy Birthday, Mariah!!

'And I'm still in love with you,

I want to see you dance again.

And I'm still in love with you,

On this harvest moon.'

- Neil Young

Red Rocks State Park last weekend.

Like a bird on the wire . . .

I saw this bird hit these wires the other day while biking along the North Platte river. It literally "croaked", as much as a bird can croak, and then it plummetted.

I thought it was kind of strange that it had been tagged.

More pics of the Rockies . . .

"There's a kiss at the end of the Rainbow . . ."

I once drove to the end of a rainbow. I can't recall clearly, but I think it was in Wyoming or Missouri.

At its end, on a meadowed mountainside, I met a couple who had done the same.

I felt like less of an ass, knowing these two had chased it, too.

I couldn't believe that every car in Rocky Mountain National Park wasn't pulling aside to check this scene out. A picture like this does it no justice.

A little bit ironic . . .