To live large in the Rockies, we must embrace a new vernacular architecture that supports our lifestyles and doesn't hog energy. This illustrated blog will call out the good, the bad & the ugly things being built in MG country, from the perspective of a self-taught designer, wannabe urban planner, passive solar advocate and master builder.
A passage is about movement, motion and traveling. I have a mantra that has kept me alive in the worst of times, both in the mountains, when everything that could go wrong did go wrong, and in my head, where my fear of impending doom can simply shut me down. It is just this: “Keep Moving … Keep Moving … Keep Moving.”
Tales, trials, and travails of a former dirtbaggy adventurer doing his best to raise his child to become an Earth-loving heathen princess. Kids and nature sort of thing, with an MG style twist.
Wilderness search-and-rescue vignettes from two long-time professionals, Kimberly R. Kelly and Dave Baldridge, alternating bylines every month. “Point Last Seen” is a common SAR term used to describe the last known location of a missing subject.
A river is a natural watercourse, usually freshwater, flowing toward an ocean, a lake, a sea or another river. In a few cases, a river simply flows into the ground or dries up completely before reaching another body of water; a cyber location where fresh- and saltwater stories, anecdotes, history, opinions, breaking news, obituaries, community exchanges, and, OK, an occasional (but civilized) rant of a river nature meet and mix; the place where the flotsam and jetsam of river life collect.
A bi-monthly visit to B. Frank’s deep research facility, where the air is rich with the dark brew of developing stories, imminent outrages and shameless amusements that affect denizens of the Interior West.
When I was a kid, my favorite play-pretend game was Lost on a Desert Island, and my adult home is not so different from my childhood fantasy. Except that it’s decidedly not a desert, tucked into the famously wet Cascades: mosses and lichens, conifers and hardwoods, salmon and eagles. Not the stuff of Robinson Crusoe, this. You’d freeze in Tarzan garb. It’s not really an island either, just a small valley separated from the outside world by steep jagged mountains, a whole lot of them, and long skinny lake, deep and cold and treacherously windy.