Took the train from Cañon City to Parkdale today, down through the Royal Gorge. The runoff was heavy and the Arkansas River was fast and high and muddy. Damage from the fire last summer was only visible on the canyon rim in the form of a few twisted, blackened trees.
I met a man once, a pilot, who flew a small plane under the suspension bridge that spans the narrow granite canyon some 900 feet overhead. He did this while stationed at Camp Carson, during World War II. The man is gone now (he passed away in a veteran’s hospital in Denver some years back) but his memory, like his story, is still with me.