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high in the high country.

Each day I get stronger.

Each day I seek to get lost.

I'd rather be skiing.

I can't ski, so I ride.

I ride into the wild.

I explore.

Mindless wandering.

I follow the will of the trees around me.

I go where the winds blow.

The birds call me.

I drink from the streams that hydrate my animal friends.

There is no difference between.

All creatures.

Looking to get lost.

Surviving how we know how.


The concrete jungle steams of heat. My shoes stick to the blacktop as I walk. Sweat drips down the brow. Four legged friends pant and lap up water. The time is right, the heat has arrived on schedule. I pack to move to higher ground. Where high is cool and cool is high. High is where I want to be.

A few photos from days spent howling like a wolf in the woods. Amongst the timber giants and narrow tracks I'm free to roam and roaming is free.

On Saturday, I ripped CR 700 from Vail down to HWY 131 and Wolcott. New sights and the views were amazing. Prime mesa land.

CR 700 goes ON and ON and ON, until it stops.

Water is heavy. Hydration packs are overkill. The lifestraw lightens the load, as the need to carry large amounts of water during this time of year is unnecessary. This is the technique I use for harvesting H2O. I've never stayed more hydrated on the bike.

The VBC is my new favorite watering hole in the Vail Valley. Super dank Gore Creek IPA. Sometimes, I intentionally plan my routes to end at the brewery. Especially after this ride-

On Sunday nature called me out to one of the most under-rated trails in the county. Soooo goooodddd... I can't stoppp, ahhhhh. Not a human soul around.

The gold standard. Tight and single, the way it was meant to be.

Magical Kingdom. Enter at your own risk.

Bueffer Creek trailhead with a face lift and hollywood booter. -

My friend Izzi. She's old and yellow just like Ms. Mogs.

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