Sunday, April 4, 2010


The west is a demanding mistress.

In a few weeks I will have lived in the Rocky Mountain west for forty years coming to Denver in 1970 from Iowa via New York City.

No one ever said it would be easy.

Along with the beautiful vistas and the wonderful warm days comes a lot of danger and intrigue.

Last night coming from a friend's cabin in the woods I encountered several cars and trucks in the ditch illuminated by the overhead emergency lights of the police, fire department and tow trucks. Saturday night in the high country. A little too much acceleration and a little too less traction on the thickly covered with ice roadway combined with the angle of the dangle curve. Throw in a dash of alcohol and some inexperience of youth regardless of the age of the driver and you have a lot of danger and intrigue.

The only reason the pioneers in the high country survived is that you can only get a certain amount of speed out of a horse and, when drunk, the same horse will take you directly to the barn without any direction.

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