Armageddon to Genesis in one...

Backpack trip. 

When Brad and I set out to do our weeklong 60 mile, three pass circuit on the John Muir Trail, experiencing damp, drizzly and windy weather was not what we expected. After all, we were hiking in potato chip dry and parched California. A state where rain and snow had gone missing for multiple years. 

We entered Sequoia/Kings Canyon National Park via Bishop Pass. The sky had a post nuclear holocaust look about it. Apparently forest fires were consuming acres west of us in the big tree groves of Sequoia. Yet a chill rain was hitting us square in the face. It wasn't pleasant. The sub-summer weather prevailed the next morning as we hunkered below John Muir Pass. It was a long dreary day of sitting in a cave waiting for conditions to improve. (See photo). Snow (White Death) was reported by the shivering masses who descended off the 11,955 pass. 

The following morning, we woke to an ashen gray atmosphere. At least it wasn't raining so we headed uphill. The higher we got the bluer the big sky became. By the time we reached the pass, only designer clouds were prevalent. The front was passing us by. 

Our Genesis was on! We had nothing but aquamarine above us and occasional frost below us. 

It was great!

Some hikes are worth repeating.

http://jeffsambur.blogspot.com/2014/09/for-years-i-been.html

From Dana Point, California

Cheers and Happy Jewish New Year,

Jeff

"I only went for a walk and finally concluded to stay out till sundown, for going out, I found, was really going in."

John Muir

Reunited with my...

Brother from another Mother. 

http://jeffsambur.blogspot.com/2015/04/my-brother-from-another-mother.html

Brad and I are about to go into Great Smoky National Park for a 6 night backpack trip. Well, it's not the really Great Smoky NP, but Sequoia/Kings Canyon National Park. However, with all the Rhode Island sized forest fires nearby,  it's very smoky. Somewhere to the west of Bishop, California through the obscure haze is the High Sierra Range. We believe they are out there somewhere. 

Tomorrow we hope to make contact with them. 

Brad likes me (sort of) despite his serious game face at Mountain Rambler Brewery. 

He needs to take a "how to smile" lesson from Little Dylan Sambur.

She's got the "don't be serious, be delirious" grin down. 

Keep the blogging fires burning while I'm gone.

Cheers!

Jeff

PS. Happy 5776 Jewish New Year. We've been around for awhile.

"It ain't over till it's over."

Yogi Berra

From my last post, http://jeffsambur.blogspot.com/2015/09/life-and-nature-simplified-at.html one would guess that I'm back to running solo again. Wrong! Jenny read and enjoyed that post. (She said it was beautiful). We schmoozed (talked) a bit and decided this Hebrew pair warranted a second chance. 

After kissing and making up, we climbed 13,069" Mount Chiquita in RMNP. 

Why name a peak after a banana? I have no idea. It was too frigid and blustery to grow winter wheat let alone a tropical fruit. The U.S. Geological Survey named it in 1932. Maybe the dude was wishful thinking while he was on the summit getting whiplashed by the cold breeze. 

Yesterday, a wonderful time was had by all. Here are the photos to prove it. I believe  my last post was the best blog I ever wrote. At least, I know it impressed one fan! Ahh, the power of the pen or in my case the Mini I-Pad. 

Speaking of which, The Wandering, Wondering Jew blog has now quietly surpassed 20,000 pageviews. I'm still not sure what that means, but it sounds like a lot. 

Thanks for looking in and supporting my musings. As usual feel free to pass http://jeffsambur.blogspot.com/ along to your billions of Facebook friends, family members and your favorite foreign hackers. 

Cheers!

Jeff

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

So Many Colorado Wilderness Areas

So little time. 

With the chill of Autumn arriving way to fast for this blogging Cold Weenie, Jenny (the Wandering, Wondering Jew in training) and I saw firsthand a few of Colorado's Wild Places. 

We spent three nights in Crested Butte where the town's slogan should be, "You don't have to be a young stoner to live here, but it helps." From this village of HIGH, we drove and hiked higher. We managed to gain some altitude in the Ragged and the Maroon Bells Wilderness. On one jaunt, we ascended "Oh Be Joyful" Creek. A very correct name for the scenery surrounding us.

As far as the Maroon Bells goes, the atmosphere was downright tepid on top of Frigid Air Pass, (12,451 feet). 

On another day, we joined forces with Paul and Robin for a hike to 12,088 Cataract Lake. It's true, you meet the nicest people in the mountains of Colorado.

This blogger is now one beat and beat up dude after my scree filled ascent to Red Cloud Peak. 

But that's another blog.

It's almost Happy Hour in Lake City, Colorado 

Cheers

Jeff

Yes there are fungus among us too.