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Adventures at timberline
Reminiscence of Foster's mountain adventures, often by Jeep, to ghost towns, cemeteries, other mostly abandoned places in Colorado. Author Jack Foster was editor of the Rocky Mountain News from 1940-1970.Gibson, Dan and Storm, Harold (illustrator)
125 pages, Mass Market Paperback
First published January 1, 1950
4 people want to read
About the author
Jack Foster
46 books32 followersJack Foster spent 35 years working in the creative departments of major advertising agencies; the first ten as a writer, the last 25 as a creative director. He won dozens of advertising awards, including being named "Creative Person of the Year" by the Los Angeles Creative Club.
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Displaying 1 of 1 review
December 20, 2014
Such a wonderful book! I loved reading of their adventures hiking and wandering through old mining towns in Colorado, and even more fun was that most took place in the late 1940s-50s.
But now I don't know how I can go back to my own hiking and not eat the lovely meals they took with them! Minus the sardines.
* * * * *
pg 6 - 7 of the Preface:
"It is beautiful up here when it rains," I said.
"It is the prettiest place in all the world," he replied.
"Do you live here?" I asked. "Where is your cabin?"
"Oh, I just live where I happen to be," the old man said, turning toward me eyes as blue and liquid as a crater lake. "I always walk when it is storming in the mountains."
"Where did you come from originally -- Denver, perhaps?" I asked.
"I went to Denver once," he replied. "Long years ago. But the pavement hurt my feet and the people knocked me down because I tried to walk against the way they were going. I shall never go to Denver again."
"Then you didn't know," I said eagerly, "that the war is over."
He smiled softly as he turned to move on.
"The war is always over up here" he said. There is nothing to fight about. There is nothing to gain by war. The rains come and the streams fill. The snow falls and the snow melts and there are bright flowers on the hills. They tell me that wars are fought so that people can go back to living the way they want to live. I do not understand this. I do not understand why people don't come up to the mountains and always live the way they want to live."
But now I don't know how I can go back to my own hiking and not eat the lovely meals they took with them! Minus the sardines.
* * * * *
pg 6 - 7 of the Preface:
"It is beautiful up here when it rains," I said.
"It is the prettiest place in all the world," he replied.
"Do you live here?" I asked. "Where is your cabin?"
"Oh, I just live where I happen to be," the old man said, turning toward me eyes as blue and liquid as a crater lake. "I always walk when it is storming in the mountains."
"Where did you come from originally -- Denver, perhaps?" I asked.
"I went to Denver once," he replied. "Long years ago. But the pavement hurt my feet and the people knocked me down because I tried to walk against the way they were going. I shall never go to Denver again."
"Then you didn't know," I said eagerly, "that the war is over."
He smiled softly as he turned to move on.
"The war is always over up here" he said. There is nothing to fight about. There is nothing to gain by war. The rains come and the streams fill. The snow falls and the snow melts and there are bright flowers on the hills. They tell me that wars are fought so that people can go back to living the way they want to live. I do not understand this. I do not understand why people don't come up to the mountains and always live the way they want to live."
Displaying 1 of 1 review