Yesterday was Memorial Day, and I couldn't help but think back to years ago when my then wife Lisa and I would meet my sister Susan and brother-in-law George up in Estes Park, Colorado for a Memorial Day hike. We would take one car into Rocky Mountain National Park, find a suitable trail, and start hiking. Invariably, we would find ourselves hiking up a snow covered trail through a mist shrouded forest. The further we went, the deeper the snow and the thicker the mist. George, a big fan of orienteering, or at least a fan of a book on orienteering, would suggest a number of off-trail possibilities. By this time, Lisa would be freaking out and insisting that we turn back immediately. We would then turn around, drive back to Estes Park, find a suitable "bistro," and drink beer. It wasn't until years later that I began to realize that this was my brother-in-law George's plan all along. Being young and innocent, I didn't suspect a thing. I never did take any photographs during those hikes - we were focused only on survival. The photograph above (from left to right) shows me, Lisa, my mother Mary, and George being photographed in the park by my sister Susan, a little later in the summer. Where is the adventure in that?
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