The roads and trails in this area, which only a couple months ago were so congested with overeager humanity that I once had to use my car to block the entrance to my campsite lest others trespass thereinto, are now almost entirely deserted. It has apparently become too cold for the fair-weather Front Range crowd and I for one am quite alright with that. Let it snow, not because I love snow, but because I hate people.
We have been camping here just below the intersection of CR 375 and CR 377 since she drove up from Denver Saturday evening to meet me. In that span of time we have seen no more than perhaps three or four vehicles roll by. When we drove to the Buffalo Peaks trailhead to go for a hike the place was empty and we had the trail to ourselves. As far as peace and quiet go it has been a nearly perfect weekend but now it’s 5:30am and she’s leaving to go back to the city for work. That’s the last I’ll see her for several months or so. Such is life I suppose.
I left an hour later, to Leadville, for my final day of chimney sweeping with Mark for the season. He almost caused an accident on I-70 just west of Vail Pass. I won’t go into details but that’s what happens when you drive 80mph through a construction zone you reckless fuckin' knucklehead.
After work I went to Saturday’s for gas and beer, then drove out CR 300 past Halfmoon Road and through the gravel pits to one of my favorite campsites. There it was that I built a bright little fire and stared up at a great big night sky full of stars wondering for a good long while what exactly in fuck it was that I was doing with my life.