Late in an already long day, at the mouth of a narrow, rock-lined chute clogged with snow at 9,000 feet, I coached two friends on where to place their feet. The three of us were picking our way down to...
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I’m 30 years old and the smell of spring still means one thing: it’s time to start making a hideous picture collage to paste into the lid of my camp trunk. (For those of you who didn’t go to camp,...
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Because honesty is an essential element of good writing, I’m going to start this entry with a confession: I was a traditional student. There it is. I was the most traditional of all the traditional students. I finished high school...
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Last September, I hiked a section of the Colorado Trail from Durango to Copper Mountain. A few nights into the first week, I ended up camping with a woman from Birmingham named Martha, and her dog, Angel. Martha and Angel...
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