You hadn’t exactly been making tawaf, that great, frenzied, swarming circumambulation of the Holy Kaaba in Mecca; and you clearly hadn’t been doing anything quite like the Muslim Hajj, either. Nonetheless, in a limited, quasi-metaphorical way, it is the first pilgrimage-like parallel you draw when you reflect on your visit to Sprague Lake in Rocky Mountain National Park in early September 2019.
This is a charming, entertaining, and educational little book, written by RMOWP member Virginia Parker Staat. It brought both tears and chuckles – what more can a reader ask? Although written for children eight to 14, it’s a lovely story for all ages. It’s also a true story, and includes delightful illustrations by Andy Ramon.
As most of RMOWP knows, I retired in 1997 to pursue a second career as a wildlife photographer. A year later, I was diagnosed with ALS, commonly called Lou Gerhig’s disease after the great Yankee HOF first baseman. Continue reading My Super Power
Article by, & photos courtesy of Myra Wood Bennett
There is an old saying that your “there” is no better than your “here.” It is a belief held by those whose main requirement in life is to live within a short distance of the nearest big box store. For others, it is a place that speaks to mind, body and soul. For me, it is the San Juan Mountains of Colorado. Continue reading Old Jeeps and Hearts of Gold
Founded in 1973, Rocky Mountain Outdoor Writers and Photographers is among the oldest and most respected organizations of outdoor communicators in the American West, with a number of current members tracing their earliest involvement with the group to the 1970s and ‘80s. Continue reading Lifetime Membership for Longtime Members
I have a regular routine for Sunday mornings. Most of my life I have had to get up early. Now that I am old and do not have to get up, I still wake up early. This gives me time to do what I really want to do Continue reading Sunday Morning
Driving along the San Miguel River in southwest Colorado, I realize how comfortable I am here. Canyon walls tower above me, layer upon layer of silt, mudstone, and the occasional layer of rounded rocks where a stream once flowed. The red and brown walls formed over eons, remnants of the ancestral Rocky Mountains. I pull off the road and eat lunch in the shade of a cluster of cottonwood trees. Not many vehicles pass by … a road on the edge of nowhere. Continue reading The Comfort Zone