Forgive me, but I’m way behind on posting my latest column (about the gritty goodness of bad road trips) because I was, you guessed it, on yet another road trip.
This trip did indeed have a rough start — we left town Friday morning in snow-amplified rush-hour madness. After picking up a friend in Golden, it took us two hours to get to Idaho Springs. But that was a minor price to pay for the glorious days we spent climbing in the sun at Indian Creek. And unlike the trip I wrote about in my column, I slept in a tent beneath a crescent moon and the Bridger Jacks, not on the highway.
I might have to rethink this good-bad trip thing…