The summer started off on two wrong feet.
My eight weeks abroad with the American Field Service was taking me to Germany. I hadn’t studied German in high school; I’d taken French. I wanted to go to France. Or, failing that, to Mauritius, where they spoke French and a gorgeous, turquoise, left point break curled across the reef. I’d seen the pictures in Surfer magazine. (more…)
I wish I could have been there for the Everest 50th anniversary show at Mountainfilm, with Jim Whittaker, Tom Hornbein and Conrad Anker. (more…)
Twenty-one years ago, the microscopic town of Nucla (population 711), at the west end of Montrose County, garnered national attention for its Top Dog World Championship Prairie Dog Shoot. (more…)
I was there at the beginning.
But I think I can be forgiven my fuzzy memories of the earliest Mountainfilm festivals. (more…)
I was grateful they moved the mini cannon a ways down the left-field line. (more…)
Colorado’s recent acceptance of civil unions reminded me of a social experiment in little Alpine County, California, shortly before Ellen and I moved there in 1973. (more…)
One. Nevada. A few miles from the California line, heading into the setting sun on U.S. 6, I have to put my hand up in front of my eyes occasionally, so bright is the starflash on the windshield.
Signs have warned, wordlessly in silhouette, of horses on the highway, (more…)
Two weeks ago I listened in on an “open media call” regarding Colorado’s continuing drought. (more…)
A late-season storm rolls through, a big one, the day after the Telluride ski area closes. A cruel irony? A classic bit of ski-bum lore? (more…)