THE INSPIRATION
Due West
In late-summer the five of us departed Star Ridge and headed deeper into the Gore Range. It was the latter stage of our journey back West to Colorado after a near decade on the coast. We drove a long, dusty road and settled in to 4 days with no plans.
We drove a long, dusty road deeper into the range and settled in to long days with no plans. Camp was set in the northern edge of the Gore Range, tucked against a granite outcrop where the timber thickens.
On our second day, with the afternoon fading into stillness, came the sound—low and distant at first.
The baritone bellow of cattle approaching from the east.
They poured around the bend—a sea of black, roan, and spotted hide.
From the brush riders followed on horseback. They moved with ease —whistling and flanking the livestock, their horses picking calm steps through the scree and downed timber.
It was open range and they were driving the cattle up and over to new pastures. Slow and steady in the fading light. The bellows were eventually drowned by the wind and we were left with only dust and memory.
This was worked shaped by weather and grass, terrain and season.
The unhurried wild — a land indifferent to haste.
