We needed a trip to the Horseshoe this morning, so we headed up, Ryan, his dog Rufus, old Moshe and me.
Leaving at seven thirty, we made our way in beautiful June sunshine and cool temperatures. Moshe was beside himself with joy to be heading up the hill, yapping, whining and running to and fro.
We paid special attention, perhaps too much attention at times, to the aspen signatures and found at least three that Ryan's Great Grandfather had done between 1910 and 1926. That is an amazing thing to find, and though there are those who say that it is vandalism and bad for trees, it doesn't seem to have bothered too many of the aspens up there. One had the date of 1895, and was still going strong.
It's a good carpe diem experience to see all of those old names, people who had been up in the mountains just like us, many years ago. Quite a few names we recognized won't be heading up that mountain any more in their lives or have passed on already. Happy trails to all of them.
I just hope I live my life in a manner that brings about the same honor and memories as many of those names have brought to their people.
Looking north, a door to the sunlight.
There were a couple of patches of these flowers, very hardy and petite.
One of the characteristics of the aspen writing is a chronicle of the ancient feud between sheepmen and cowboys. Here is a challenge to the sheepmen on one tree, "IM Looking (At) A Bunch OF wooLy Basterds(sic)."
And the response? On another tree nearby, "This is sheep contery(sic), an't(sic) (for them) cow feed". It got pretty contentious at times in this area.
Aspens, pines and the bluer sky.
A view of the left side of the Horseshoe, looking to the south.
Some more aspens just below the Horseshoe, where we ate our humble repast of kippered snacks, Viennas, bard-boiled eggs and a Braeburn apple from New Zealand.
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