So far, in my 14er journey I’ve had surprisingly good luck with weather. Weather’s a huge factor when it comes to climbing mountains, not just because you don’t want to be outside in the cold and wet, but because at fourteen thousand feet the weather can be unpredictable and unforgiving.
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In the world of bike racing there is no shortage of tough races. Marathons, Ultra-marathons, multi-day races, 100-mile races, 24-hour races, a year-round profusion of ways to suffer on a bicycle, for those so inclined.
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In my continuing effort to provide you, dedicated reader, with an ongoing travel log of adventures in Colorado, and more realistically, because I felt like going on a little drive, this past week I headed over the pass to Crested Butte for some western slope riding.
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In terms of area, Colorado’s San Juan mountains are the largest mountain range in the state. Whereas other ranges are more or less linear, the San Juans comprise a vast wilderness area of something like 4,000 square miles in the southwest corner of the state.
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In what has to be one of the best April fools’ jokes in recent memory, Mother Nature pulled off a beauty this past week.
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The seasons around here have a certain familiar rhythm, a certain feel. A lot of that rhythm has to do with the activities you can do each season.
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What a strange winter. The 2025/26 season is shaping up to be a record bad year for snow in Colorado.
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It’s been a while. No good excuse for the silence. I haven’t been out of the country or laid up in the hospital or anything noteworthy like that.
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Ah, fall in Rockies. Changing leaves, cooler temperatures, and another wave of tourists seeking out fall foliage Instagram moments in the mountains.
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