The Aftermath of a Bangin’ Storm

Rambling, gamboling, wandering to and fro, yon adventurers go forth. Let your nose lead you away from the stench of cities and to the sweet mountain meadows. Away from the humid, stagnant air to the cool, refreshing breeze of snowmelt waters rejuvenating the hills and dales below.

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Bonus points if you can guess what poem inspired that semi-coherent writing (read: awful? Depends on your stance and how picky you are).

Last week, a raging thunderstorm swept through southern Colorado. I knew a particular park had some waterfalls, and surely, with this infux of water, they’d be gushing.

Unfortunately I got a late start, which is a rookie mistake in Colorado, and couldn’t get space at a trailhead’s parking lot with the primo A-one waterfalls. So I made do with a smaller set of falls. Still gorgeous, impressive, and scarily fast.

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Park rangers were out in force, making sure no one went scrambling on the rocks. And for a good reason. There are a number of news stories about people who ventured close to the falls for a quick selfie, slipped or fell, and drowned.

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At the end of the all-too-short hike, I was rewarded with this grand, sweeping view. Ah, Colorado, you never fail to impress.IMGP6023.cspringvalley_large

On my way out of the park, I spotted something that piqued my interest. An ant-like explorer on a behemoth of a rock, towering above. It hurt my neck to look up. This photo doesn’t do it justice.

Let’s play a game! Where’s Climbing Waldo? No red-and-white striped shirt to help you.

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Ok, I’ll help. Do you see him now?

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I miss climbing. One day I shall get up there again. It’s a vastly different experience from climbing at a gym.

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