As I mentioned in yesterday's blog, my friend Stuart and I visited Rocky Mountain Park this past Tuesday, and it was a perfect day for it - not a cloud in the sky and very mild (for the mountains, that is). As we headed toward Bear Lake, there were a number of cars parked on the side of the road, and so we stopped to see what everybody was looking at. It turns out it was a herd of elk, and I was able to photograph the elk in the photograph on the left in an unguarded moment. Alas, no moose were in sight, and we did not spot a single moose the entire day. Why is it that every night on the local television news they show people being head-butted by moose, moose trying to stomp small dogs, and all manner of bears going through everyone's trash, but yet when you head out into the wilds yourself, you never see a thing? It is damn unfair.
I guess I will just have to be happy looking at the scenery, which is pretty damn spectacular, if I say so myself. As we were about to head back down Trail Ridge Road to leave the park, I snapped the photograph on the right, showing the afternoon clouds rolling in over the mountaintops. As I have mentioned many time before, my brother-in-law George loved to go hiking up into those clouds, and the snow would get deeper and deeper. And then, at the point where we could no longer see more than a few feet, my then wife Lisa would start sobbing and demand we turn around. We would then head back to the car and down to Estes Park and drink beer. When you have a routine that works, you need to stick with it, right?
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