Landing in Ridgway
After a long, quiet drive through the high folds of the San Juans – cradled deep within the Rockies – we landed here. Ridgway.
It’s Jen’s sister’s home turf, and not far from where her parents once lived in nearby Ouray. So this place already carried meaning, even before the elk wandered into frame or the sky lit up just right.
Nine days ahead, but this was where we first stopped and stayed. Let the dust settle. Let the quiet sink in. The mountains here don’t try to impress – they just are. Elk moved through the fields like memory. I cast into the still water, not chasing fish, just letting the silence do its work.
This is just the beginning of a nine-day roam through wild places, rooted in family, framed in light, held together by the quiet.
More to come. But for now, this is Ridgway.
