Impression Evergreen

Helms Lake Ensconced in the granite bowl of a spectacular gorge, Helms Lake is an aqueous repository of visually stunning scenery. The soaring tarn lies tacitly above tree line but still far below a fortress of towering peaks. The difficult journey to this remarkable, alpine refuge begins in a forest of lodgepole pine and progresses through tremendous groves of radiant aspen. A cascade of icy snowmelt traces the trail and the comforting sound of rushing water placates the soul. It’s a dim aurora as the morning light yearns to infiltrate the dense interior of the primeval wilderness. The diverse geography is a succession of tiered plateaus creating a grand staircase that culminates in a basin of otherworldly beauty. While straining upward through different life zones, the tenacious trees gradually become more stunted and twisted before suddenly giving way to a glorious tundra. A maze of willows insulates the remote reservoir, creating a buffer between a rugged world and smooth wate

Toadstool Geologic Park, Nebraska Nebraska is known for its flat countryside and endless fields of corn but if you’re willing to veer off the main road and head to the northwest corner, you’ll discover the rugged badlands. It’s a place that time forgot and hiking here is treacherous, tiring and hotter than hell. Just like the red planet, Toadstool Geologic Park is a harsh, sun-baked environment gouged by a desolate chasm. Down at the bottom of the gorge, you’re tempted by a devil's playground of balancing rocks, sandstone spires and a maze of sidetracks. This portal to the center of the earth is an arid landscape that’s awash with spectacular scenery. God may have forsaken this grim abyss long ago but after my remarkable experience here, I’ve come to cherish happy memories of exploring this damned canyon.

Epaulet Mountain I've been here before, up at the top of Mount Evans Road. But on this day, I'm not sure which way to go. Wasting no more time, I've made up my mind. It's Epaulet Mountain that I'm going to climb. Here I go again on my own. In the shadow of Evans and Bierstadt, Epaulet is a humble hill that's always been outshone. During this lonely trek of dreams, I'm miles above treeline and totally alone. Across the way there's lovely Rosalie. Pointed peaks pierce the sky like remote islands in a vast, blue sea. After a solitary scramble to the summit, the extraordinary view is impossible to measure. Hiking the natural pathway out to a farther point is an absolute pleasure. Overlooking a deep abyss of solitude, it's a remote sanctuary where I've gone. I'll keep searching for an answer. Oh Lord, I pray you give me the strength to carry on. I've been here before Not sure which way to go Mount Bierstadt and Evans

Snowy Stagecoach Hollow If you follow a crooked road west, heading towards the row of blue mountains charged with procuring the setting sun, you'll discover a steep canyon carved by a ribbon of black ice. The secluded glen is called Stagecoach Hollow. Local legend has it that a tenacious mistral prowls the area bedeviling visitors. Winter snow creates a monochrome landscape where white aspen contrast with the dark pine. Because the rugged terrain is a mosaic of mud, rocks, snow and ice, navigation requires the nimbleness of a goat. Howling like a ghostly demon, the relentless wind chased us down into the brooding forest. The mysterious sanctuary was a tangle of gnarled tree trunks and broken limbs. Confined to a murky chasm during the December dusk, a daunting staircase was the only way out. The stiff breeze kept pace, whirling through the treetops and over cliff edges like an insane daredevil. Across a footbridge and finally back up top, a final blast of blowing snow st