At the end of September and Rockies autumn, we worked our way north from Eldora then lingered at Smith Lake as long as we could ‘stand to sit’ then walked around the west of the pond.

Autumn was encountering it’s year-end struggle at Smith Lake and I see aspen color in some sheltered spots across the chasm. Finally, we gave it up and headed back to the Taylor Mountain Road.

Gotta go back sometime.

Phil and I refused to let the high country color sleep under the coat of snow that’s supposed to happen by now, without another foray into the high country.

We sniffed the pine and aspen perfume along the Smith Lake trail and, what the heck, decided to head up Taylor Road to the overlook above the North St.

Vrain past a large stand of aspen. The canyon tumbles a quarter mile below the drop on the right.

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Don’t test the edge with anyone less than a steadfast friend. Roped in is best. Actually, the drop looks gentler in Google maps 3D – Hold the Ctrl key and spin the cursor.

17.01.2020 – The wagon road through the autumn aspen, over to here is nearly apparent and yet skimpy. I know he’s dieing to find out just how good you are. Instinctively, I swallowed without realizing that I was drinking my own cum. The bees in the boxes except the old one died.

That spot always affords a pretty good view over to Rocky Mountain National Park and the great divide. You decide if these stunted ponderosas have gotten in the way of that view.

It was a pretty darn inviting day short of the really showy clouds.

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I had to peel down to my tee. Can you imagine that this is the end of September at altitude. Thanks fossil-foolers.

I read that while sleeping at night, these alpine trees can sneak up on you while really dark. We are paralleling the Rocky Mountain National Park off to the west.

In the largest tree crotch, right, lie the pointy Mount Meeker and barely left but actually north is the muffin top of Longs Peak.

Just right of Mount Copeland is a pass trek over the divide. It is actually named Boulder county – Grand countyBoulder-Grand Pass, a reasonable name if you ask me.

I have been over the pass after camping the night at Thunder Lake.

The lake has since been stocked with the recovered strain of native cutthroat trout that reportedly “jump from every foot of the lake’s surface.

I should make it up to Thunder Lake next year. Right and north of Longs is one of the six Colorado Ute passes.

The Indians used it to traverse the divide. Modern Trail Ridge and Milner Pass on the divide traverse north of that. Taylor Road is the access to these high country magnificent views.

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Atop Taylor, one should be able to spot climbers in colorful jackets on their final leg up the south pitch of Longs Peak. Sometimes climbers founder on the big notch between Meeker and Longs.

Here, east of Allenspark and west of Taylor Road, we found semi-flat rocks for perches by the oft-used fire ring at the pond. Only one car up here and they found us to tailgate on this glorious day.

The wagon road through the autumn aspen, over to here is nearly apparent and yet skimpy. Find all of this on Google maps. Something this doesn’t show is that the crotch rope is knotted in just the right place, and that after 20 frustrating minutes of tugging and shifting trying to get off on it, I was ready to gob the BF off and beg him to finish me.

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There was quite the variety of boys and girls that came. Lark, Robyn, and Daryl were shuffling around, waiting for the camp counselor to arrive.

But it was a warm night, with a clear sky, and the crickets and frogs were had begun chirping. It was the end of summer, and they had a few days left at camp.

This was going to be a night under the stars. Lark and Robyn were twins, identical except Lark had shoulder-length brown hair, and Jeremy was blond, and both liked their hair up in man-buns.

They had startling jade green eyes, and angular features, and seemed to be eastern European in descent, from their facial features.

They dressed in cut off jeans, and sports jerseys. They both wore Converse sneakers, and both wore brown leather belts.

They had a tendency to get into trouble together, but seemed to be behaving themselves tonight. At Least for the moment. They turned 18 a few months ago, this being their last year in school.

His face was angular, with high cheekbones, and a wide expressive mouth. You could call him pretty almost, rather than just handsome.

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Leather bracelets cupped his wrists, and a wallet chain swept around his hip, going from the front of his cargos to his rear pocket. But he got along with most everyone.

They just grinned back to him, and shrugged, walking up with macho bravado. What could go wrong? As they followed the trail up into the hills and around the lake, they came to a site that had been partially set up.

There were camping chairs, lanterns hung, and pumpkins, gourds piled here and there, and firewood already split.

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There were some strange carvings, too, including a silhouette of a flamingo propped against a tree. There was no counselor there, however, and the boys tossed their back packs down around the area that had been set aside for sleeping bags, near the fireplace.

They hauled him into the woods nearby. You jerks! You ass-faces! Let go of me! They laughed and kept a grip on him, as they carried him a dead tree that was used for target practice.

They stripped him of his clothing with deliberate moves, keeping him controlled, and there was seeming nothing he could do to break free. They pinned Daryl to the tree, once he was naked, and whipping off their belts, using them to tie his hands behind the tree, and then his legs.

The two boys stood back and admired their handiwork. Tears were streaking down his face, as the tall teen placed a hand on his chest.

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Do you have a horse as a dad? They puke up their lunches so they can make weight, and starve themselves all the time. Daryl stopped struggling, and just glared at the two punks, as they laughed and started pinching him, and slapping his body, making comments on his physique.

They spanked the side of his tight hard behind, leaving red marks on them, but they could only get at him from the hips, since he was so well secured to the tree.

The boy jumped and shrieked in surprise, as an older boy with dark brown beaded dreadlocks, down to his waist, came into the light of the lanterns.

He was light tan and tattooed on his arms and chest. He was wearing a muscle t-shirt that clung to every feature of his sculpted body, and his blue jeans were torn at the knee, and clung to his strong athletic frame like they were painted on.

He had sandals on made from brown leather.

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Overall, he looked exotic, with high cheek bones and odd-colored eyes. A blue and a green one. He had pierced ears, and wore a strange cord and beaded necklace, like a belt, around his neck.

A leather wristband was on his right wrist, and his nails were painted black. He held a drawn bow with an arrow knocked, and it was pointed at the two bullies.

His arms were corded with the tension, as was the rest of his lean frame.

He had a smirk on his face, as he gestured with his chin. Lark made a sudden move, and screamed as an arrow went through the end of his sneaker, and pinned his foot to the ground.

He stopped screaming when he realized the arrow had gone between his toes, not into his foot, just pinning his shoe. There was no blood. He just stood there, paralyzed.

Daryl looked on the whole scene, watching the skill and poise of the newcomer, his savior, and gulped hard, wondering what the hell was going on, and why this guy cared about 2 boys bullying him.

But he swallowed hard and watched the drama play out, helpless to do anything else. Untie him, and do it now. Robyn lurched over to Daryl, and started working on the neck, and then the hands.

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Once his hands were free, Daryl started working to get his waist free. Lark yanked his foot free, and went to undo the legs, and then Daryl was finally free of the tree.

He punched Robyn in the face, who had been taken by surprise, stumbled and fell down like a stone, stunned. Daryl cried out, and shook his fist, but he looked satisfied.

Lark screamed again, as he tried to get his hands on the arrow to yank it free. Daryl stumbled back and retreated towards the archer, and the two boys finally recovered.

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