It’s early morning on the Saturday of Labor Day weekend, and Charlotte and I are navigating the washboard and potholes of Seedhouse Road, about an hour north of Steamboat. She’s home from college for a couple of days, and we’re taking advantage of the perfect weather to do a little backpacking on the Zirkel Circle. 

Seedhouse Road got its name from a 1910 U.S. Forest Service seed-processing building. Workers roasted cones from Engelmann spruce and lodgepole pine over fires in the seedhouse in order to release the seeds, which they then sold. The operation lasted only a year, but the name stuck. 

We pull into the Slavonia trailhead at the end of Seedhouse Road. The moniker Slavonia has always struck me as unusual; the area is named for the Slavonia Mine, established by four Slavics in 1904. What was mined there? Gold, silver, and copper were most commonly mined according to the records for Routt County, and you can see a more complete list of the various minerals recorded for the Slavonia region here.

Many prefer to do the Circle counter-clockwise; we opt for clockwise and head down the trail. The Zirkel Circle is an 11-mile loop in the Zirkel Wilderness. Although the loop doesn’t include summiting the 12,185’ Mt. Zirkel, (highest peak in Routt County, and named for German geologist Ferdinand Zirkel), it does offer water crossings, stellar vistas, and both Gilpin and Gold Creek Lakes. 
​
It is a beautiful blue-sky day, and the sun feels warm enough to start shedding layers early on. It's been over two decades since I last backpacked, evidenced by my pack’s lifeless bungee cord and my needing a YouTube refresher for how to even load the thing. 

Being out here with my pack feels familiar soon enough, and the time with Charlotte feels like a lark, and an adventure with the bonus of learning from some of her well-earned wilderness skills. Throughout high school she’d taken advantage of dual-enrollment with the local Colorado Mountain College for math and science, but in her senior year she took part in several field classes, including Desert Orientation, Snow Orientation, and Canyon Orientation. Being out there for days and nights at a time, and learning from the best, has resulted in some serious experience and know-how for Charlotte.  

We reach the turquoise-hued Gilpin Lake, plunked down between sharply angled peaks, and then hoof it up and over the 11,000+-foot saddle to make camp on the other side. Finding a sheltered little spot in the trees, overlooking a huge meadow with Gold Creek merrily gurgling through it, we pitch camp and eat lunch. Then we use our math and shot-put skills to rig the food bag on a high branch. It takes a while but, satisfied with our bear-proofing, we head out for a couple hours of exploration.

We follow Gold Creek trail east and then north, which is the trail to take if you plan to climb Mt. Zirkel by way of Red Dirt Pass. We see no other people on this part of the trail, and enjoy the solitude as the loop trail is so popular. The wind blows down the valley through the long grasses. Red Dirt Pass glows scarlet in the afternoon sun. Then we step over something odd on the trail - a long rusted pipe that disappears up into the ridge of trees to the west. A little further we catch sight of some log cabin ruins, with a metal bed frame and the remains of box springs sticking up above the decomposing cabin walls.

I am mystified. We are at 10,000 feet, out in the middle of nowhere - Mt. Zirkel to the north, Red Dirt Pass to the northeast, and here is this cabin with its decorative, heavy, bed frame. What self-respecting miner would bother hauling a bed frame up here? It is hard to imagine a miner returning after a long day of hard work to enjoy the decorative bed - more likely they preferred a plain old bottle. 

It turns out this is the site of the Slavonia Mining Camp. Just west of where we stand gawking at the bed frame is a ridge that lies to the east of Gilpin Lake. The Slavonia Mine is located at the base of this ridge. The old pipe we’d stepped over on the trail runs all the way up to the mine, most likely used to drain off excess water when the mine was in operation. I notice another cabin a few hundred yards away, more intact, and with a nice fire ring near it. This area is often used by backpackers as their campsite before summiting Mt. Zirkel. Standing in the quiet, the breeze blowing through the evergreens bordering the cabin remains, the place feels lonely, and a bit…spooky. You couldn’t pay me to stay the night here.

I notice Charlotte smiling and she points out the two pine martens playing peekaboo with her. Their endearing heart-shaped faces watch her inquisitively before they run off. The sun is getting low, and it is time for us to head back to our own camp for a warm dinner and maybe a game of Crazy 8s in the tent before snuggling into our sleeping bags, content with a day well-spent.

Resources/Learn More

• The Diggings: USGS Historic Mining Records
• Steamboat Pilot article: The Mighty Zirkel: Take a Hike to the Tallest Point in Routt County
• Steamboat Pilot article: Wilderness Wanderings: Mining Clues Remain in Zirkel Wilderness

Books:

• Ave, Raymond, Backcountry Adventure Guide to the Mount Zirkel Wilderness. Mountain Jay Media LLC, 2003.
• Thompson, Jay and Therese, Hiker’s Guide to the Mount Zirkel Wilderness Area. Pruett Publishing Company,1992.
• White-Crane, Diane, Hiking the ‘Boat II. Aspen Tree Press, 2003.

​Autumn. I both dread that it means the end of summer, and marvel at the rich and varied shades that seemingly deepen by the minute. Bright gold trees, mahogany shrubs, orange berries, amongst deep green conifer and bluest of blue skies. Each day feels like a staving off winter for another 24 hours.

There are some who refer to taking in this glory as “leaf peeping.” I detest that term, actually. Whether you are strolling along the Yampa Core Trail, out for a mountain hike, a long bike ride or a paddle, there is an engagement with the beauty all around that “peeping” doesn’t even come close to describing. The term “leaf-peeper” first showed up in print in 1965 in Vermont. Some folks seem to do just fine with the term, others consider it insulting and worse, as “peeping” conjures voyeuristic tendencies. See Mental Floss: A Brief History of Leaf-Peeping. 

The one thing most are in agreement with though, is that this time of year has its own magnificence, perhaps because, at least in the mountains, it is almost as fleeting as the summer. A clump of aspen becomes more incandescently golden by the day, and then a few strong gusts toss that gold to the ground. Or a shrub, foliage ripening to a rich cabernet, is halted by a snow-storm, and the whole thing shrivels and turns black. So every day with fall’s palette feels like a gift. 

So I propose that the term leaf-peeping be struck from use. Suggested phrases: full-fledged fall gawking, awe-struck ambling, or simply reveling in the incomparable Mother Nature. Especially in the last few days in Steamboat, I see people looking around in wonder, and hear people talking about their experience of the unparalleled color. It is truly an incredible season.

As for how and why leaves change color, check out my post the Fluctuating Foliage of Fall to learn. 

​You’ve probably never heard of Elzada Clover or Lois Jotter. But maybe it's time you should. 

Brave the Wild River by Melissa L. Sevigny, is the story of how these two intrepid botanists set out to map the plant life of the Colorado River through the Grand Canyon. The 43-day whitewater journey was a harrowing adventure, but their resulting work continues to influence science today, and has led to greater awareness and protection of that river ecosystem. 

In 1938, the two women set off from Green River, Utah, with four men and three small wooden boats: the Botany, the Wen, and the Mexican Hat. Hailing from University of Michigan, Clover was a 42-year-old botany instructor, and assistant curator of the botanical gardens, and Jotter a 24-year-old graduate student working on her PhD. 

The Colorado was considered to be an unruly and dangerous river, where many had died in the attempt to run it. The news reports of the time focused on the novelty of women on the river, and the general consensus that women did not belong on that river. Rather than covering the botanical intent of the trip, reporters drummed up the perils of the Colorado, and wrote about the women applying their make-up and cooking for the men

It is true that Clover and Jotter were up every morning well before the men. They did cook breakfast, and they did apply powder and lipstick. But their time was also spent gathering plant specimens. The plant gathering was a tedious process. They needed to get the entire plant, including root, stem, leaf and flower. The specimens were flattened and arranged carefully and placed in a plant press, consisting of layers of newspaper and thin wood strips. This was all carefully strapped down. For cacti, the pulp had to be scooped out, and the specimen laid just-so to preserve the spines. From their work, four new cacti were identified. 

After hunting plants up steep climbs in the desert heat, they’d go run some serious rapids. The women were not allowed to paddle the rapids (thank goodness that’s changed: currently women make up roughly one-third of Grand Canyon river guides). Sometimes the boats would go through the turbulent water blunt stern-first. Sometimes they’d line the boats - difficult work to climb over boulders on-shore while keeping the boat on a line and walking it down in order to skirt the more burly rapids. 

Ultimately the crew, with a few changes in personnel, floated into Lake Mead alive and well. Clover and Jotter’s work made it back to the University of Michigan, and the two continued to contribute to the field of botany for the rest of their lives. 

In 1994, Jotter made another trip down the Colorado with a group of scientists and other “Old Timers” who’d studied the river ecology prior to the construction of Glen Canyon Dam and the creation of Lake Powell. Their observations led to the 1996 policy of the dam releasing large amounts of water in order to stimulate spring river surge and restore some of the river life to the way it was.

Though Clover and Jotter are not household names, their willingness to literally risk their lives to gather botanical information is a fascinating story, and their work has impacted anyone who recreates in or cares about the Colorado River.  

Just upstream from Lake Powell, at the confluence of the Green and Colorado, begins a 41-mile river section known as Cataract Canyon. It was so-named by Powell because of the canyon’s 14 miles of gnarly rapids - so gnarly in fact that Powell and his men did not run a single one of those rapids. When Glen Canyon Dam was built, and Lake Powell filled, over half of Cataract Canyon became impounded, slow water. In recent years, as the water level in Lake Powell has dropped due to overuse and evaporation and drought, the impounded water in Cataract Canyon is diminishing, and is starting to flow again. This has also resulted in some side canyons reemerging. For river runners familiar with this area, two of the side canyons are affectionately known as Clover Canyon and Jotter Canyon, within a stretch known as Botany Aisle. 

Learn More/Sources
The primary source for this blog post.
Brave the Wild River by Melissa L. Sevigny

A short version of the story of Clover and Jotter, with some terrific photos.
University of Michigan Heritage Project: River Rat

American Rivers: Changes in Cataract Canyon

​
​Cooler nights. Darker mornings, with frost making an occasional appearance. Colors all around: gold, orange, crimson, purple. Fall is here. And in Steamboat, that means another long winter is soon to follow. 

I love summer. I love open windows, sandals, and the fact that it doesn’t take me an hour to get dressed before leaving the house. I will miss my after-work and weekend hikes perhaps most of all, feeling the lush grasses and shrubs brushing my legs, forearms, even the tops of my shoulders. I will miss looking up at the green aspen, smelling the sap of pine, spruce and fir, warmed from the sun. I’ll miss standing on a rock in the creek, gurgling amber liquid swirling around me.

The good news is that there are still after-work winter walks. Though the lush foliage will be buried under several feet of snow for months, walking is still a win-win. I walk to clear my head, to get my blood pumping the sludge out of legs that’ve been standing all day, and to feel movement in my entire body. My digestion and respiration certainly benefit. But there are even more perks to walking.

In the book Built to Move: The 10 Essential Habits to Help You Move Freely and Live Fully, by Kelly Starrett and Juliet Starrett, the authors explain how walking is a game-changer: 

• Better movement and less pain, because of tissues stretching, moving in ways that are the antithesis of a sedentary “C” position, and joint lubrication.
• Improved feet, because these are your foundation, and when you walk you load and unload the bones, muscles and connective tissues in the feet to build strength and resilience.
• Improved circulation, not just of your blood, but your lymph, which relies on movement and muscle contraction/relaxation to make its way through your body.
• Improved sleep, because walking calms anxiety and lowers depression, both beneficial for sleep. Even 30 minutes of walking a day has been associated with decreasing depression.
• Better brain function, because walking enhances blood flow to the brain (sitting for long periods of time results in less blood flow to the brain). Studies have shown that walking even benefits creativity.
• Decreased stress via improved mood. This is because moderate physical activity (like walking!) has been shown to decrease stress hormones and boost endorphins.

The Starrett’s advocate 10,000 steps per day (one mile is approximately 2,000 steps). This includes incidental steps. They are also clear that even if you aren't hitting that 10k mark, some is better than none.

I’m using time for my barometer, rather than a step counter or Garmin. In addition to my incident steps, my current goal is to get in at least an hour total of running and/or walking each day. My body and brain like this - it feels good. Whatever the season, I hope you’ll join me in walking more. 

I’m on one of my favorite trails in the deep-woods silence of late afternoon, my shorts soaked through from rain-drenched leaves. The rain has stopped but the dark grey clouds hover overhead, fitting for my state of mind. 

It's a few days before Charlotte heads off to college, and my heart is sore with the anticipation of how much I will miss her. Of course I’m happy for her to leap into her life. Of course I remind myself of how truly blessed we are - a thriving child heading to college is not every family’s good fortune. Still, I grieve. 

There are still plenty of flowers amidst the profuse growth of shrubs and ferns. I note the colors - purple, white, yellow - and the petal shapes - elongated, spiky, clustered - but the names are lost on me. Charlotte would know the names. One of her many passions is identifying flowers in the field guide she carries on hikes, snapping a picture, then drawing them later in her flower journal. Sometimes I call her Charlotte Muir. 

She must have gotten this love from my mom, who is another flower identifier. When I was around nine or so, my mom took me on a Saturday morning wildflower hike. The ranger leading the walk talked for at least an hour pointing here and there at the various plants, naming them and explaining their uses. I don’t remember a single flower name from that day. When we returned to the visitor’s center, there was a spider I was encouraged to hold. Harmless, the ranger said. Perhaps. But it was black and hairy and awfully large. It was a tarantula - that, I remember.

* * * * *
I’m now on the return leg of my hike. The trail wends its way between huge trunks, branches towering above me blocking much of the sky, and it is so quiet. I’m in the company of some very old beings, with their hardy roots snaking every which way, creating little stairs in the path. Just past this there’s a wall of dense shrubbery that is waist-high. Rising above all that olive green is a single magenta flower - fireweed. I know this name, because Charlotte pointed it out as we drove the Million Dollar Highway just a week ago. 
​
Fitting that fireweed should brighten my day. Fireweed (Chamerion angustifolium) is the first blaze of life following a forest fire. Its rhizomes lay under the forest soil and begin to colonize territory that has been left open to the sky and sunshine due to fire. In post-World War II Great Britain, it was known as bombweed because the rosy purple plant grew in the remains of wooden buildings decimated in the fire bombings. It is thought that St. Anthony used the plant for healing, and thus also known as St. Anthony’s laurel.​

Patience, optimism, resilient spirit, healing. Fireweed is all of these things. It seems a hopeful omen and a Charlotte smile, this pink bloom - the only one around. Just then a ray of sunshine shines directly on the fireweed, and the fuchsia is vivid and aglow in nature’s spotlight. 

Smiling, I head down the trail, my heart and my step a little lighter. 


Learn More
Colorado Native Plant Society Article: Fireweed: the Fire Follower

​Exercise feels good and we know it is vital for our physical health. But just as important, exercise benefits our mental health. Check out this dynamic and informative Ted Talk by Wendy Suzuki: The Brain Changing Benefits of Exercise.

Physical exercise - great for increasing circulation, the strength and mobility in our muscles and joints, and helping to improve cardiovascular health and maintaining body weight, has corresponding effects on the brain. Chemicals like dopamine and serotonin are released, which improve mood. Anxiety is lessened, aiding sleep. Exercise supports both existing brain cells (neurons) as well as the environment to develop new neurons. Exercise has even been shown to lessen depression.

All of these benefits are immediately accessible when one begins to exercise. It is a regular exercise routine which extends these benefits, having a greater and longer-lasting impact on our lives. With brain health, there is a protective factor with exercise: the prefrontal cortex and hippocampus, areas of cognition, are bolstered, staving off conditions like dementia and Alzheimer’s. 

Exercise does not have to be costly or time-consuming. The general goal is 30 minutes, 5 times per week, but benefits can be seen if exercise is broken down into smaller time frames or crammed in on the weekends. A gym membership is not a requirement. Walking outside, exercising in your home, even turning household or gardening chores into purposeful movement can result in benefits for both body and brain.

Learn More
Scientific American Article: Exercise Helps Your Brain as much as Your Body
HelpGuide.org Article: The Mental Health Benefits of Exercise

Originally published May 9, 2024

Ever notice that some mornings you don’t exactly roll out of bed? You might hobble, slide, or ask your partner to hire a crane. As you move through the morning, although the initial foray to the kitchen took ten minutes, you begin setting PRs so that by the time you’re ready to hit the shower, you’re doing laps around the house in less than 30 seconds. 

Why is that? Why do we start out so stiff and subsequently loosen up so nicely? It’s because of The Fuzz.

Gil Hedley famously dubbed the build-up between our tissues The Fuzz. When we are still for long periods of time (as when sleeping), The Fuzz accumulates, resulting in stickiness and limited mobility between our tissues which normally slide smoothly. Daily stretching can address The Fuzz. However, when we are injured and don’t use the affected body part for a couple of days, The Fuzz builds up until we may need help from a physical therapist or massage therapist to restore range of motion.

This is one reason why Essentrics® leaves you feeling more mobile and energized. You are warming and stretching the body’s tissues so that they slide, you can move more easily - and you have done away with The Fuzz for the day. This is also why massage can help decrease pain and improve range of motion - manually working the tissues eliminates The Fuzz.

I’ve included Gil Hedley’s amazing video The Fuzz Speech here. The Fuzz Speech is one of my very favorite videos because he does such an excellent job of explaining this concept. 
Word of warning: the video includes shots of cadaver tissue to illustrate his point. 

​Originally published July 28 2022

​Twyla Tharp is my kind of person. Her daily habit for years was to rise at 5:30 am, hail a cab outside her New York City apartment, and head to Pumping Iron Gym for two hours of weight lifting and stretching. 

She’s also a proponent of getting better as we get older. Big movements, taking up space with the body, creating, and engaging, all contribute to this remarkable human being continuing to lead a vital life.

If you are not familiar with Twyla Tharp, neither was I until just a few weeks ago. I happened to run across her book “The Creative Habit,” a New York Times Bestseller, and checked it out because it looked interesting. I have since discovered that she is one of the most influential dancers and choreographers in our time. In 1973 she created “Deuce Coupe,” the first “crossover ballet” to combine modern and classical in one piece.

In “The Creative Habit,” Ms. Tharp discusses how consistent practice and process is a foundation for her work. In addition to her gym routine which set her foundation for strength and agility, she described the initial stages of her creative process. For example, with each new idea for a project, she’d start a large box. In would go her initial project notes. Then CDs of music, videos, and those were followed up by in-depth research, so that she had a wealth of material to draw from when she choreographed the final dance. This consistent process of using the box provided an organized structure for her brilliant creations, like the Tony-award winning “Movin’ Out,” a musical set to the tunes of Billy Joel. The final box count for the Billy Joel project: twelve.

Twyla Tharp is now 81 years of age, and literally going strong. In this Twyla Tharp Video: Shut Up and Do What You Love, you can watch her cranking out push-ups as a part of her current morning routine. She also continues to choreograph - her latest work is a retelling of two pieces created in the ‘80s. Twyla Tharp: New York Times Article Oct 2022

What can we learn from her? She’s got some ideas in this Twyla Tharp Video: Lessons from Keep It Moving. 

My big picture takeaway is that consistently moving and strengthening the physical body, using the mind to engage, cultivating a spirit of resilience, and continuing to make what we like to make with whatever form our creativity takes, all contribute to us getting better as we get older.

Originally published January 26, 2023

The main entrance of the J. Marriott Library catches your attention not with books but with a bill-board sized group picture of students in their Utah-red polo shirts next to equally gigantic letters: U BELONG. And having spent the better part of the last two days here, I definitely feel that spirit of welcome and friendliness, from the individual students themselves to the man in the white button-down checking in with folks in the dorm dining hall to be sure they understand how to order their food online, to the residence assistant Trinity hanging out at the entrance door to the dorm tower. I learned from Trinity where to get a mallet (to raise Charlotte’s bed to a bunk), and where the very coldest water-filling station was (a relief in the very hot temps). 

In a previous post I wrote about the waterfall in front of the library - constructed from light earthy-colored tiles nestled around a small grove of conifers. But I did not yet write about the library’s glass pyramids, reminiscent of the Louvre, set at the east edge of the large open plaza that fronts the library doors.

The University of Utah Library is almost as old as I am, opening its doors in 1968. The dedication, in May of that year, was by Wallace Stegner, Pulitzer prize winning author, environmental activist, and professor at University of Utah. Among his students: Wendall Berry, Raymond Carver, and one of my all-time favorites, Edward Abbey. Stegner wrote The Wilderness Letter in 1960, a letter that urges government protection for wild lands. In 1964 this letter was used to introduce the bill to establish the National Wilderness Preservation System. This brief Stegner bio includes an excerpt of the letter. It is an appeal, both spiritual and physical: wilderness is vital, and it is imperative to protect those places. Looking to the nearby mountains, and even to the nods around campus to wild spaces via  sizeable shade trees, vibrant blooming flowers, and open expanses of grass, Stegner’s words resonate. 

Fittingly, Wallace Stegner’s papers are housed in the library, though it was rededicated in 1969 as the J. Willard Marriott Library after J. Willard Marriott, Sr. contributed $1 million for library collections. Several renovations and expansions later, the library is now five floors and 516,000 square feet. The main entrance enters the third floor; floors one and two, and the bulk of the library's square footage, is underground. The open plaza I mentioned above (and in the foreground of the photo) is actually the roof of the lower two library floors!

According to the librarian who spoke with me over the phone, since the major part of the building is below ground, emergency exits are key. The glass pyramids seen in the plaza function as skylights, letting light into the lower floors, and are a part of the emergency exit system. And, according to one post I found, those skylit areas deep in the library are great study spots. 

Despite quite a bit of time searching for more information on the skylights, like when the pyramids were constructed, why that structure was selected, who designed them, I found nothing except the study spot post. I was curious if pyramids have any significance in Utah, and found this article on the Summum Pyramid tucked in the middle of a suburban Salt Lake City neighborhood that was constructed in 1979. There doesn’t seem to be a link to the library pyramids.

Not finding connections from other sources, I consider the possibilities. There are the pyramid shaped glass skylights that offer a lovely and mysterious aesthetic. The structures are a mimicry of their mountain backdrop. And there is the symbolism of allowing light to shine into the depths of a building which houses vast amounts of documented knowledge and actively pursued learning.

Source/Learn More
University of Utah: Library History

Between the towns of Ouray and Silverton in southwest Colorado is a portion of Highway 550 known as the “Million Dollar Highway.” You might guess that it gets the name from the stunning vistas of verdant valleys rising to 13,000-foot peaks, including scarlet iron-ore slopes of Red Mountain, and perhaps you’d be right. There are a number of possible explanations for the name Million Dollar Highway, and my curiosity was piqued after a recent trip over the highway.

Last Saturday I drove my daughter and a friend of hers to Molas Pass, just south of Silverton, so that the two of them could rendezvous with friends on the Colorado Trail. That group of three had been on the trail about a month since starting in Denver. We were to meet up with them and from there the united group of five would finish by hiking the rest of the trail into Durango together, about 75 miles as the boots hike from Molas Pass. 

Along Highway 550 I was stealing glimpses of scenery that was literally breathtaking. The lookout point just outside of Ouray is called “The Switzerland of America” for good reason. Once we got to the Million Dollar section south of Ouray though, I was oblivious to the views. There is virtually no shoulder, the road curves around what looked to my height-frightened eye to be 10,000-foot drop-offs, and, contributing to my nausea, there are no guardrails. 

No guardrails? This makes it easier for snowplows to push the snow off the road. 
Snow? Ice? And they keep it open? Yep. The road is open year-round, but drivers are strongly urged to check weather conditions before driving the highway. Good idea. If I spied a snowflake within ten miles of that road, I wouldn’t drive that highway for a million dollars! And that is precisely another theory as to how the road got its name.

Other possible explanations for the name Million Dollar Highway have to do with the rumored cost of $1 million in gold and silver to build it and the expensive tolls that were charged - $5 per wagon or the equivalent of $150 today. Originally conceived and constructed by Civil War Veteran Otto Mears in the late 1800’s, the idea was to connect remote mining towns in the area. Wanting a more direct route to transport goods, in 1882 Mears purchased a controlling interest in a toll road company and the road was completed in 1883. The pricey charge to use the route cost Mears the road; in 1887 the state of Colorado took ownership of the Million Dollar Highway as a result of complaints from miners and merchants unhappy with the high tolls.

When we reached Silverton I was feeling relieved and a bit accomplished: we hadn’t died. We drove up to the Molas Pass overlook in hopes of intersecting with our intrepid hikers. They were not there. We took a spin through the Molas Lake Campground - no dice. We drove up and down Molas Pass, trying to find that sweet spot of internet connection long enough to communicate. In a last-ditch effort we were headed down to the Silverton Visitor’s Center when a text squeaked through that the Three Musketeers were indeed at the Molas Lake Campground - apparently we’d missed them when we drove through earlier. We high-tailed it there to find them googly-eyed over the food in the tiny campground store. 

When the last of the three made it out of the store with a happy grin and a hot burrito, everyone and their gear piled into my car. We looked like the Beverly Hillbillies. And smelled like the Beverly Hillbillies’ goats. The three that had been on the trail were ripe. So ripe in fact that we had to keep the windows completely rolled down as we headed back to Silverton to re-supply. 

After the shopping expedition it was back up to the campground. Once I’d dropped off the smelly, smiling and awesome crew, and given my daughter 83 hugs, kisses and “I love you’s,” I headed home. I was driving over the Million Dollar Highway one more time. 

Sources/Learn More
Ouray Film Festival article on The Million Dollar Highway
Action Tour Guide: History of the Million Dollar Highway