Earlier this week I drove up to Southern Colorado for a day. My old friend Atlas and I met up in the Rio Grande National Forest, which was startlingly pretty with its aspens in early autumn plumage. Atlas lives in Boulder and I live in Albuquerque—we decided t0 meet somewhere halfway between us. We hadn’t seen each other for three years.
Campsites were hard to come by, so I reserved the one spot that was available on such short notice: a small cabin in a mountain valley, just next to the clear and cold Burro Creek. It was a ‘historic cow camp’ according to the NFS sign out front. Built by Simon Off in 1917 and used seasonally on the cattle drive until 1979. ‘Historic’ meant that there was no electricity or running water. No cell reception either. Wood-burning stove. Rickety outhouse. We couldn’t have been happier with it. Continue reading