Crestone Needle
H E A D E D H O M E
Kenn, keeping the home fires burning for us back at camp, as we return from the peak. Kenn always has great coffee. In fact, he ranks as a superior mountain chef.
After the lengthy return
Ned and Kenn. Dr. Dave and his son came by the camp on their way down from the peak, and we all sat around and had a few laughs, especially learning about HAFE (high altitude flatulence extremis).
Though Jim thinks I'm too much of a stubborn Aries to learn anything from him, it only took one dance with cryptospiridium for me to get on board with the notion of filtering water rather than treating it. Tastes better, anyway. Here, Dan, Jim, and I participate in the nightly ritual of filling the water bottles. There's something soothing about the steady motion, and the gurgling ubiquity of the stream.
Jim and Dan waiting for dinner to cook.
Of course, this is Crestone Needle behind us. This was literally 20 feet outside of our campsite perimeter. It's the next day, and we're suited up to hike out.
Rich and Ned.
Rather than endure the beating of hiking down 5 miles of trail with 60 lb packs, Jim and I left the rest of our crew gaping on the trail, and hitched a ride in this old jalopy, which, though it got us down faster, was a harrowing experience in its own rite.
Everyone makes it back to the cars... Rich has already broken out the warm beer in Kenn's trunk.
...and not content with that, he goes on to finish off everyone else's Blue Moon ales at the Tex Mex restaurant where we celebrated.