Life after 64 gets better and better

Meanderthals maneuvering on anonymous benefactor's tree trunks. 

 OMG (love that expression - it works whether you mean gosh, goodness or god) -- this has been the longest, most colorful, glorious autumn in the Bow Valley since anyone I've talked to can remember.
It started in August with a tinge of yellow leaves in a few trees and has continued with some politely mild (and not-so-mild) freezes until last night, when it snowed for the first time. And then the sun came up up and melted the white stuff. A ton of trees are just turning gold and others have carpeted the ground with their yellow bounty.
Aspens peek out from evergreen mountainsides and glow golden in the sunlight. There are even red - red!- leaves, which we do not normally get.
The big bonus is that I demanded - and got - some days free from work to hike. We have been going steady since summer finally hit in late July. While I love the kidlets at the daycare and it is an active job with plenty of fringe benefits like hugs and stuff, my soul need the outdoors, the muscle-stretching, lung taxing excursions that can take us to the top of a peak or along a ridge that falls away on either side. As the snow covered the peaks, we have moved the hikes lower, but there are still plenty of options.

These leaves have fallen  but others have taken their place in 2011's fabulous fall.

On Tuesday, we went on what should have been a stroll along a creek which would normally  be dry by now. The leader hadn't been on the trail before and the two hikers who had hiked it hadn't been on it for a while, either. Which explains why when we got to a place where it looked like a box canyon without an outlet, I jumped ahead to scout it out and found a beautiful tiny little canyon carved by the creek (which still had water in it). Some unknown benefactor - whom we cannot thank but are grateful to - had stacked rocks and laid down tree trunks in strategic spots so we could make it through without getting our boots wet.
It meant a bit of balancing and tightrope walking and boulder hopping, and I was in my element. I love that stuff. I never think of getting hurt and falling only means you might get a little wet or lose a little skin to me, neither of which is a big deal. I do not like scree, those spots at the top of our mountains made up of small rocks that allow you to take two steps forward and slide back one, but leaping goat- or sheep-like from boulder to boulder is one of my favorite things.
There are other Meanderthals who are more aware of injury and dislike glacier cold water baths. They are far more cautious than I and slower, which means I have time to take pix like these. It was a swell day. The only one who fell close to getting wet was me, on the way back with one other hiker (the rest preferred a steep bypass route) when a log that had been dislodged by the passage of 19 hikers rolled and fell off its perch on me. Fortunately it was right at the end and there was a boulder underneath so I didn't even get my hiking boots wet or have a rock rash to show off.
Perfect day. The Meanderthals range from 50s to 90s and some of the fittest are the oldest. I'm in the B group. The As climb to the top of everything and even get a bit technical on some climbs. The Cs and Ds pick their own trails and speed. And if the Best Fall Ever continues, we'll be hiking into November, have a little break, then continue with snowshoes or cross country skiis.
Life after 64 gets better and better.