Over the Pass
We climbed – slowly, steadily – up toward Owl Creek Pass, winding our way through woods and valleys so wide and green they felt almost imagined. Like something pulled from The Sound of Music, only quieter, wilder, and stitched with a Colorado-kind-of-solitude.
We stopped where the land asked us to. Sat in meadows. Watched clouds move across the face of Courthouse Rock – flat, immovable, perfect – and let the silence settle in.
And at just over 10,000 feet, we found a lake ringed in stillness: Silverjack. A beach day at elevation, the wind soft, the water cold, the world hushed.
These high forests gave more than we could take in – especially the aspens. Pale bark and golden light. I saw something in them I wasn’t expecting. So many photos, they’ll get their own place in this journey. And they deserve it.
But this was Owl Creek. Still. Holy, in its own quiet way.
