I stop for folded metamorphic rock, faces and limbs of beasts encrusted in tree trunks, butterflies, black lizzards amused at selfie-posing hikers, a cup of icy spring water from Columbine, often to catch my breath, occasionally to sketch an alpine landscape or a gnarly limber pine, for flowers I don’t know the names of and for those I do, for moments of silence and solace to not think about anything, and for a staring contest with bighorn sheep near Bighorn peak.