There is magic up in the mountains north of Durango,
Colorado as you head towards Silverton. It is the kind of magic you felt all
around you when you were a kid. It creates in you an awe of your surroundings
and a sense that you are more alive and more aware than you have ever been. The
aspens rustle in the wind; their white bark leaves a chalk memory on the palm
of your hand as you brush by it and the contrasts of primary colors stimulate
your eye. The peaks stitch their patchwork from one valley into the next,
calling you ever upwards towards their summit. It is powerful stuff.
A short photo essay from a very cool weekend in the hills can be found here.
