Solo in the San Juans

I set out planning to write something reflective about how nature works as a salve for me.

When I need release, reflection, and clarity, I hoist a pack, start walking, and eventually find myself whole again.

The thing about salves, though, is that they soothe the symptoms without curing the cause.

So instead, I’ll keep it positive and think of the mountains, the scenery, and the passion for the outdoors that will never leave me.

I started by reconnecting with an old friend.

The San Juans are my favorite mountains in Colorado. Only three to five hours away from where I type, they offer enough terrain, sights, and vastness to keep me coming back for years.

My DCF Wild Oasis made for a fine birthday present.

The alpine lakes and the reflection of the mountains on them, I think, is what draws me back in many ways.

And of course, there are those tundra ridge walks that have stayed with me since my formative hiking years in the Whites decades ago.

Even scarred by fire and bark-beetle kill, the valleys below remain striking even if the future has already slipped into the present.

As I walk, the tundra up high is already shifting into fall colors..

And I saw, perhaps, what might be my last butterfly sighting of the season.

I drop into a valley and pick up a trail that still shows up on some maps, but no longer exists on the ground. Perhaps another quiet sign of the times, with budget cutbacks eroding the stewardship of our public lands.

And perhaps a literal sign if my Utah Senator has his way?

If with a cheeky addition.

I completed my loop, which began with some overcast skies. But I know another three-day trip with Joan is waiting for me, and we’re heading to an amazing place where we’ll make more memories together.