Impression Evergreen

Light is the symbol of truth "To love beauty is to see light." ~ Victor Hugo We ascended straight to hell and back. Hell's Hole that is. If our destination truly was the Devil's Den, then Hell has frozen over. There was still an enormous amount of deep snow obstructing the rugged trail to Lucifer's Lair. Our journey began well enough. Warm sunshine filtered through a tunnel of arched aspen. Chirping birds and the rumble of West Chicago Creek provided comforting background noise. The majestic pathway of soft dirt beckoned the unwary traveler. The lovely entry into the wilderness concealed the truth about the difficulties that would lie ahead. Precarious bridges lured the curious seeker deeper into the abyss. Inexplicably, the sky turned gray and it began to rain. How would it end? Swallowed by the eternal shadow of Gray Wolf Mountain, the underworld was a cold and forbidding place. Stamped into the earth, the depression was enclosed by a dark forest of

Mount Falcon If the trail over Mount Falcon is a portal to the Rockies, then attaining the summit on a sweltering summer day is a gateway to heaven. Ascending the 2,000 foot east face of the mountain is just as grueling as climbing any Colorado 14er. Tormented by sharp yucca plants and prickly cactus, the back-breaking ascent is an insect-infested, rattlesnake-ridden netherworld. The hellacious hike through a scorching desert environment is distinguished by steep switchbacks and meager shade. Upon reaching the summit, a sudden Utopia can only be described as too good to be true. The broad summit is composed of rolling meadows interspersed with lodgepole pine forests that provide a refreshing cover. Butterflies float through flower-filled fields while cottontails browse on tender shoots of fresh grass. Beneath a powder-blue sky, the sound of songbirds is a joyful chorus. The tranquility at the top is a revelation. It's an idyllic reward offered to those who can successful

Chimney Gulch "There is in every American, I think, something of the old Daniel Boone - who, when he could see the smoke from another chimney, felt himself too crowded and moved further out into the wilderness." ~ Hubert H. Humphrey Chimney Gulch is a steep gully that drains into Clear Creek just west of Golden, Colorado. Upstream from the Coors Brewery, kayakers take a beating while training in a whitewater playground. Crossing the bridge and slashing through a jungle is required during a lowland approach to the ravine's upper reaches. A path of red dirt has been worn into the contours of the shaggy, green mountainside. On an ordinary evening you'll probably see magpies and mule deer. Alert as ever, they will only tolerate a peaceful encounter. Pressing onward will involve some huffing and puffing but the effort will earn isolation for those seeking silence from the bustling city far below. Sweeping views of a fervent sunset in the foothills will entice th

"Trout Lake" Colored Pencil On a dreary Sunday below Lizard Head Pass, Mother Nature delivered an unforgettable sermon from the mount. It was springtime in the San Juans where steady showers epitomize the wet monsoon. A turbulent squall washed the landscape clean, unveiling a patina of saturated colors. Frugal guardians of precious metal, the sullen peaks were disheveled in appearance. The fluid coloring was a reflection of the vibrant fish submerged in the dark lake below. Rainbow, brown and cutthroat suddenly emerged to celebrate the rainy season in an exuberant, aerial display. This place was gouged by the railroad ages ago, linking local mines with material wealth. Today, the ground is more spiritual as the tranquil landscape stretches toward more heavenly treasures. Now quiet and still, the storm has passed so why are you still afraid? Do you still have no faith?