Notes from HMWH Club

(I was encouraged to start a new blog after writing this)

Day one:
I like fearing for my life.
That's what happens when Crazy Uncle Larry is going 40 down a mountain with 76 ounces of beer in him (maybe it was only 44-I may be one High Life off) and occasionally turning off the headlights because its creepier that way.

Conquered a mountain. Sat closer to the stars above the city and watched the distant thunderstorms ignite the purple white clouds.

No politics. No stress. No thoughts.
Just the quiet constellation of orange sodium lights shamelessly spilled out across the valley below, the faint pattern of headlights tracing lonely highway roads laced through the mountains onto the horizon, the radiant cadence of bursting light from reticent evening storms.
There is only the faint whisper of the cold night alpine breeze, occasional creaking boards, and the daylight dying at our back.
And all was still.

This is the kind of night where memories are made.

No sleep til...