My friend Nick and I zoomed east across the desert with single-track minds. En route to a promised land of lush valleys, roaring rivers, crystal-clear alpine lakes and more, we prowled the red dirt backroads of Utah for a place to throw up our tent for the night of the summer solstice and were not disappointed.
After a sunset that stretched into the molasses-like thickness of the shortest night of the year, we packed up, waded back down the river to our car, and headed towards Colorado as the daylight began to ooze over the horizon.
Before long we were snaking our way down gravel roads into the tiny town of Marble, Colorado, where our friend Chris has deep roots - he grew up visiting in the summers, and his family has been in the tiny town for several generations. With promises of that sort of local knowledge to share, the ensuing good times were almost a foregone conclusion. What followed is best communicated via photographs.
The sheer amount of good times was overwhelming, the cascade of joy leaving little time for anything but reveling in each moment as it came along. Reflection could come later - there was life to be lived out there.
I could have spent a whole summer in those mountains, but all too soon we were packing our bags and hitting the road, leaving only the sun-drenched celluloid frames in my pack to serve as a testament to our hoots and hollers from just barely scratching the surface. Until next time, Marble.