Paul Holt remembers the summer he and Joan Carter spent in Colorado.

In the summer of 2002, Paul Holt and Joan Carter Workamped at the KOA in Ouray, Colorado. They have many memories of their summer, both working and exploring the area.

The summer of 2002 Colorado

Nestled in the cottonwoods, aspen, and pines, across the river to the rock ledge behind.
The mountains so majestically tall are towering over it all.
The clear air and a million stars at night.
Horses grazing, creek rushing,
Oh what a lovely sight.
A hot three months, meeting new people, making friends,
Missing those back home.
Remembering all that happened, impossible to do, those who couldn't make it,
And those who had to leave.
Learning different personalities, systems, and responsibilities,
It was a summer to remember.
Suddenly the crash on the highway, taking away a summer's dream.
And oh the special groups of those who passed our way.
Not forgetting the airline instructor, the traveling doctor, and the retired folks.
And the many groups of young campers, the school kids from everywhere.
Even some that we wish to forget. All walks of life, all sizes of man, kids and dogs. Remembering the wildlife that came to visit.
They all crossed our lives, and touched us in different ways,
Contributing to a lifetime of memories.

The matchmakers, the preachers, the young and beautiful, the old and crippled.
The thousands of jeeps, all those on motorcycles, some big beautiful rigs,
And some in old tents. And some in only vehicles.
Those who chose to stop, spending a night or so.
We watched young love and old love blossom.
Friendships that may last a lifetime.
Old steam engine rides, mine tours,
Let's not forget High Mountain tours.
With views only God could create.
Picnic lunch on the top at 13,000 feet.
The cool thin air, breathing hard and nose bleeds.
Purple mountains, Red Mountains, Rocky Mountains, going beyond the timberline.
Abandoned mines, and ghost towns,
Where dreams, hope, and hard work began years ago.
Beautiful mountain lakes, waterfalls,
And canyons too numerous to recall.
So called roads, nothing more than old mine trails.
Breathtaking, scary and rocky at times,
Picturesque small towns nestled in the valleys.
Bar-B-Que. that melts in your mouth, coffee that warmed your heart.
And a little wine to smooth it all out.
Fires threatened the livelihood of many,
Vacation plans changed, where do we put-em?
Still no let up, the heat continues, and hardly any rain.
Mudslides slowed traffic and still they came.
Crafts being made, a lot of good talk, and some crazy jokes,
And once in a while a defining moment.
Thanks for a summer not to be forgotten.

Written by Paul Holt 2002