By Hayden Mellsop “No theme this month. Just write about whatever is on your mind.” Words to instill fear into the heart of any columnist, at least this one. Where to begin? Without a focal point my imagination resembles something of a flat, featureless ocean. Me, bobbing at its center, scanning the horizon in all …
by Hayden Mellsop It is 4:30 a.m., July 4. Like moths to a flame, mountain bikers converge in the predawn darkness in a home on a quiet backstreet of downtown Salida. Ahead lies a journey that will take them from Salida to the top of Monarch Pass, south across the Continental Divide to Silver Creek, …
By Hayden Mellsop
Twenty minutes from home is a ski area I sometimes go to. Leaving town, I drive up into the mountains, from sunshine into clouds and a whole other world. It’s not a particularly fashionable resort. The parking lot is small and full of tattered Toyotas and sticker-clad Subarus. The lifts aren’t heated and are kind of slow, and sometimes they break down. Chances are you won’t share a chair with someone who is followed on Twitter, but that’s why I like it.