I ride my bike north on Ogden Street, just east of downtown Denver in one of the more diverse and densely populated parts of the city. When I reach the intersection of East Ninth Avenue, I stop to wait for the endless line of cars. That’s when I realize I’ve been here before. I recognize the King Soopers parking lot toward Downing Street, the row of shops running along Ninth Avenue, the brick houses that line the sidewalks around me.
It takes a moment before I remember that Kay used to live on this street, up on the next block, after she moved down from the mountains, after she had her third and final baby. (more…)
Their cedar hot tub sits on the side of the mountain, overlooking a series of valleys and canyons that fade into the morning shadows. The Colorado River slices through one of the nearer valleys, but the steep rock face blocks any view of the water. Beyond that, a dirt road climbs up a slope to Cottonwood Pass, and beyond that, the tip of Byers Peak juts out from behind a small upsweep of land. You can even see bits of the Continental Divide, scraping the horizon to the east and south and catching the day’s first light.
My friends live off the grid, four miles up a grueling dirt road that’s passable only part of the year and only when the weather remains dry. I was lucky. The rains had held off and I made it up yesterday without incident, despite the steep inclines, severe dips, sharp drop-offs, muddy pot holes, and constant spray of rocks. My only hope is that it doesn’t rain before I get off the mountain. (more…)
I pass through Steamboat Springs and follow US 40 as it rises over Yampa Valley toward Rabbit Ears Pass. The sun sits low over the western mountains and casts a golden aura across the valley floor, turning the meadows into a vast carpet of iridescent green.
From up here, I can see how the river’s silver-blue waters meander through the valley, glistening in the day’s last light as it winds through the lush foliage. And ahead of me, off in the distance, the peaks blaze with the alpenglow’s orange radiance, set against the deep blue of a darkening sky. (more…)
I ride San Francisco’s MUNI train, the L line, toward its termination point at Embarcadero station, in a car that’s surprisingly empty for a midmorning Thursday, given this cutback economy.
At the Van Ness station, a group of older teens boards the train. I notice them only because one announces, “I sit here. I sit here,” as she plops down on a seat that faces the aisle. (more…)
