It was fun. Like you'd expect a Labor Day Weekend with fifteen guys in a mountain cabin to be. Three days of off-roading, whiskey drinking, scree scrambling, wood burning, pistol shooting, hammock hanging entertainment. I dabble with some regularity in about 50% of those activities but at the request of my childhood friend and fellow Denverite I came along to help host his brother's bachelor party of out-of-towners and show some city men a proper weekend at elevation (11,500'). Say what you want to about gun control (specifically that there should be more screening, more training and a generally more involved process when it comes to owning a firearm) but controlling guns is a blast. Please do not read that as a pun. Or do. Regardless, target practice still gets the heart rate up, it gets the eyes big, it empowers and it humbles. It leaves grown men giddy like little children.
As we rolled into camp the first night my co-pilot, a New Yorker, with his eyes glued to the sky said to me in admiration, "Wow is it dark here. I haven't seen nighttime like this in years." Leave it to fresh eyes to help you count your lucky stars.
