They signed up for a big-budget action movie with sex and booze but wound up on a year-long Puritanical crusade in the desert. What a bummer.
It was about understanding and embracing the fact that I wanted to fall in love again. And I wanted to do it right this time. To do right by me.
It didn’t take me long to note his age, 22, and his piercing blue eyes, his sweet smile and his lovely hands. How was I to know that I was attracted to men’s hands?
You know what really shook shit up in the outdoors? The wheel.
Then came the Moby Dick of all condo complexes — or, as fifth-generation Breckenridge resident Robin Theobald called it, “the tipping point.”
As it happens, I was born the same year as MG, which meant that my childhood was colored by the themes many adults of the era were embracing.
It is an understatement to say how complicated and time-consuming a process it was to distill the millions of words that have appeared in 191 issues of the Mountain Gazette into a mere 60 excerpts
By the early-’70s, I had read “Desert Solitaire” a couple of times and knew that Ed Abbey was a great writer and, in some ways, the spokesman of our times.
A comparison of Edward Abbey to Hunter S. Thompson as only Fayhee could do.
Can we really say that a publication, which lived for only one decade, then pulled a Rip Van Winkle, actually rose up and lived again?
Outdoor Adventure Media