Yesterday was the unofficial end to Summer, the last of the three tent poles, as Lileks calls them. So I took the dog up to Mt. Evans in an attempt to hike to the Chicago Lakes. (As opposed to the Chicago Lackeys, who got Obama his first political job.)
The map said there was a gravel road leading from 103 to the reservoir, and then a level trail leading to the Lakes. Except that I kept driving back and forth along 103, and the only roads I saw were a private road and another one that was blocked off. So against my better judgment, I parked at Echo Lake, and started down the side of the mountain to the reservoir.
Nice hike, though I was measuring each step down, knowing it'd be a step back up later. The dog was thrilled to get to some drinking water, and then more thrilled to go swimming. He's a lab, and he's an exceptionally strong swimmer even for the breed. Although I'll never understand why he shakes himself off while still standing in the water.
I got some beautiful pictures of the mountains and the valley, and a couple of the Front Range against the reservoir. Shame nobody will ever see them, that they'll remain forever locked in digital limbo, encoded on a flash memory chip.
Because as I got almost to the top of the trail, I slipped, and then, felt something else slip. Ominously, there was no camera strap on my shoulder. I grabbed, and looked over just in time to helplessly watch the camera bounce down the hillside. I liked that camera. It wasn't anything special, but it was easy to use, had all the basic features, the flash and auto-zoom worked well, and it took lenses. And, oh yes, it had a 10x optical zoom.
Here's the replacement.
And then, this morning, overcast and chilly. As the ESPN promo goes, I could've sworn I heard the NFL Films music.
