Life and Nature Simplified at...

Great Sand Dunes National Park.

It's thirty square miles of slippery sand, 750' dunes and a landscape that is in constant flux. If you arrive early enough like Jenny and I did, the canvas is devoid of footprints. Late arriving fellow travelers appear as mere dots in its vastness. 

The park lies in a corner of the San Luis Valley, where you can wrestle an alligator on a nearby ranch or view UFO's from a specially designed platform. They grow a tasty red potato there too. Far away from the glitzy mountain towns of Colorado, it's off the must-see lists of most intrastate and out of state visitors. The area is sparsely populated with a few drive by in less than a minute burgs. Even though half of Colorado's ten poorest counties can be found in the Valley, I love the place. It keeps drawing me back. 

Last photo, just me and my shadow.

Sadly, Jenny and I have parted ways. 

Thank you Jenny for being my Colorado highlight in this too short summer season. It brought me great joy to see this state's wild wonders through a new set of eyes. I hope you keep on exploring. You are good at it. 

The Jewish High Holy Days are...

approaching. Every so often, someone will ask me if I'll attend a Temple service. 

This will send my thoughts way back to the times I was under the care and feeding of Sid and Clara Sambur. For those two Old World Jews, High Holy Days Temple service was mandatory, not optional. 

My brothers and I would sit (in uncomfortable suits) watching and listening as the adults prayed and swayed in a display of humility before God. Every so often, the Rabbi would present a sermon to the Congregation. To be honest, I never got the message. I fidgeted and wanted to be outside in the open air. The one part of the Service I loved was the blowing of the Shofar. (A musical instrument contrived from a ram's horn). The shrill notes were  the sound of Jewish blues to me. 

When my Mom passed at an early age for the two of us, I was unleashed to pursue or not to pursue Organized Religions. I chose not to. Don't get me wrong. I feel and associate with being Jewish as much as a Hassidic Rabbi does. 

I just happen to attend a Temple without four walls and a roof. Please gaze at these photos from the Ice Lakes Basin in the San Juan Mountains of Colorado. If this isn't getting closer to God, then I'm clueless to the concept. 

I can't speak for everyone, but this kind of religion works for me. A lot less guilt too! 

BTW: Those baggy black shorts and cut-off cotton shirt feel much better than wearing a suit and tie. 

Cheers from Ouray, Colorado.

Jeff

Red Cloud Peak (14,034 feet)...

The hard (and stupid) way.

I have a confession. I'm lazy. When presented with a choice between Girly-man easy and Ironman tough, I'd choose the wimpy way all the time. I don't even feel Jewish guilt over my decision. It's my way of pacing myself and avoiding injuries.

So..with my usual glance at a map and 14'er guidebook, I set off on a well-trod path. 

At a little over a mile, I saw a few midget sized cairns leading across Silver Creek. I read somewhere there was an alternative, simpler and more scenic route to the top. I reckoned this was that trail. Well, I had the right idea, but the wrong mountain. That pretty way was on nearby Handies Peak!!  A Senior moments strikes again. 

The trail went from prominent to obscure up the South Folk drainage. At the base of a 1,400 foot scree field, the piles of cairns played themselves out. Hmmm. I think I can, I think I can. I started crabbing my way up the slope. Sometimes it was one foot forward, a two foot slide back.

Once, I made the mistake of looking between my shaky legs. It was so steep. How steep, Jeff?  It was so steep, that a drop of switz (sweat) went straight down toward the abyss. Returning the way I came wasn't an option. Going up is safer than allowing gravity to force you down. I kept crabbing up on all fours.

At a saddle, I saw this sign. See the photo. 

Sometimes, I just get lucky. 

I made it to Red Cloud and took the easy way back. 

Cheers and don't have senior moments when you are hiking 14'ers. 

Happy Hour in Durango, Colorado

Jeff