The southern San Luis Valley spreads out below me as I pause at a switchback for a photo op. From the trailhead at the foot of the mountains, the old forest service road winds 4,000 feet up through the trees toward Lake Como.
The hike is much prettier in person; my pictures barely do it justice. This log, for instance, was encrusted with precious gems and surrounded by an aura of many brilliant colors when I encountered it that day. Here and now, however, it is merely a log that hardly deserves to feature in its own landscape shot.
That is the summit of Little Bear Peak (14,041 feet) in the distance. Lake Como is just ahead.
See? I told you Lake Como was just ahead. Stop whining and try to keep up. We've still got 2,000 more feet of climbing, and the last pitch to the top might kill us.
On Little Bear's west ridge, looking down the valley to the east of Lake Como. That's Little Bear Lake down there.
Little Bear summit shot #1, looking north. Blanca Peak (14,350 feet) is the prominent mountain to the right; Ellingwood Point (14,057 feet) is on the left a bit lower. I have yet to tag either of them. Perhaps that will be a task for next summer. The ridgeline between LB and Blanca is one of the classic Colorado traverses, and I'd like to cross it off my list before I inevitably fall off a mountain and die. Maybe this line will be the one that ends me. Many others have met their maker here, so I suppose it would be appropriate.
Little Bear summit shot #2, looking south. Little Bear Lake is visible in the valley straight ahead. Lake Como and the road I hiked up are out of frame to the right.
Back at the bottom as the sun sets.
If I stare at this blank piece of paper for long enough, I'm sure the words I'm looking for will manifest themselves.
That old rustbucket of an engine in my head is idling, warming itself up, slowly getting itself ready for another unpredictable trip through the streets of existence.
At the moment, though, my mind feels more like the devil's workshop than any sort of fount of wholesome creativity. My brain is trying to kill me again, as it has done ever since I was young.
I suppose it can stop me from finding the right words to write. But it can't stop me from hitting publish despite all the imperfections.
At the top of Little Bear, I take off my hiking pack and set it down next to the summit cairn. I pull out a small cardboard canister and open it. Then I let my friend's ashes whip away into the wind at 14,041 feet above sea level, on their way across the Sangre de Cristo range and toward whatever's next.
Climbing the hourglass, the steep final approach to Little Bear's summit. This gulley is often called the bowling alley, because if anyone above you dislodges one or more of the many loose rocks available to be dislodged, then you become a tenpin at the mercy of the gods.
Hello, airplane!
A cool view of the scenery, visiting such a place is a glory
The view above the mountain really looks very stunning because there is green and there are also rocks, thank you for sharing with us👍
Very cool Brandt. Ashes, those, don't really fly away, they just kinda hover until they don't.
Nice release height. It's the same no matter where you put the comma.
Not gonna lie, I had some of his, ashes in, my face. Comma. Spreading ashes is a thing that's much less glamorous/romantic in real life than how it probably sounded in the pitch room. I did it because his surviving partner asked me to. Besides, I'd never been on Little Bear before, so I wasn't gonna say no to the opportunity to do something meaningful while also summiting a new mountain.
I did that once comma two times. It wasn't anything at all as I expected.
Had to release the second set immediately cuz the first one looked like a small explosion. Then comma the second comma now it's twice the size.
London Bridge, Havasu. In the summer.
Mhm....
Beautiful. The writing and the release.
not going to admit to getting any lebowski vibes after going from ashes to bowling alley references
big lebowski actually paints a much more realistic picture of ash scattering, not gonna lie
ashes are salty