So after a lazy start to the day (that is, if you call having to walk two blocks for your first hit of caffeine, lazy) Mark and I decided to go for a hike in the mountains yesterday afternoon.

Before we set off, he appeared at my door bearing two bowls of pasta for our lunch. Damn that boy can cook!

We headed off in my truck, with the dynamic duo, into the mountains.

We started with a near-death experience with a typical male Colorado driver , whereby we had a brief off-roading experience at 50mph in order to avoid this dickwad's erratic driving on a highway exit ramp.

We drove to "Lair O' The Bear". No, seriously, that's what it's called. Despite it's not being an off-leash area, it was so quiet there, being a Monday, that we let Miles and Saoirse roam free. This is something they loved because it meant they could spend a lot of time, jumping in and out of the beautiful stream that we walked alongside.

We did pretty much the same hike that I'd done two years ago, on my first visit. Followed tracks that zigzagged up and down the hills above the stream.

After that, at the end of the trail, we spotted a new trail! Well, it'd have been rude not to really, wouldn't it?

And that, dear reader was our first mistake!

The track was a continuous 30% gradient, up the sides of hills I'd not previously climbed. It was a beautiful route, with many nice views, and interesting rock formations.

Of course we didn't see this, as we were focusing much of our energy on:

1) Breathing
2) Not falling over due to lack of oxygen to the brain
3) Getting Miles and Saoirse out of the way of the mountain bikers, passing by at 30mph or more (and that was when they were going uphill!) on the narrow dirt track.

Our second mistake, was being two stubborn males, who wouldn't let a little thing like physical exhaustion get in the way of us getting to the top of the trail.

I should point out, however, that neither of us is that unfit. I've actually found that hiking in the mountains is one physical activity I'm quite good at. I can bound up mountains (starting at say 8,000ft) whilst my gym-going companions often struggle. I guess I don't need so much oxygen as most?

However, for some reason (probably the fact that this was a fairly tough trail with a continuous climb) both Mark and I were fairly tired by the time we reached the top.

We'd been going on the (frankly stupid) assumption, that the trail would loop back down and round to the parking lot where my truck was.

When we met a woman (who was on foot, so going slow enough to speak to) at the top, she informed us that the trail carried on to ... (some other place, I forget the name of which, but I think it's in New Mexico).

So we took a brief rest, and I filmed myself doing a "So, we've reached the top", piece to camera, which will be inserted into the other footage of majestic views and panting dogs, taken that day.

I've been told by a number of different people, that when I do pieces to camera, I look like a natural TV presenter. I'm not sure why that might be, possibly because I talk to camera the same way I talk to small children and animals - in other words, I talk to them like I do adults, only with slightly less sarcasm.

At the top, a man and a boy on mountain bikes arrived, and paused a while. As we walked back down the way we'd come, the man passed us by. The boy was not with him. We both thought that was a bit odd.

The walk down was uneventful, apart from the fact that it was a heck of a lot easier work! All downhill. We watched the sun go down over Mount Evans, from about halfway down. By the time we reached the bottom, there was little or no daylight left.

At the bottom, in the parking lot, was a small group of people. They asked us if we'd seen the boy on the bike. Just as I was about to say, "Well, he was with some creepy-looking guy in a pink shirt, who came back down without him", said gentleman appeared from behind their Jeep.

He made some half-assed comment about not seeing the boy on the way down. I used all my inner strength, not to blurt out, "Did it never occur to you to look over your shoulder, and check he was following you, you fucking moron?", and wished them good luck, and left.

I'll not rant about my opinion of these idiots. We'll be here all day if I do.

Back in Denver, my roommate had cooked up a storm, and produced her infamous pot-roasted chicken with lemon and olives, accompanied (on piano) by couscous and a roasted autumn vegetable salad. Mark stayed for dinner, and the two of us were never more grateful for my roommate's cooking.

By mid-evening, I was starting to feel my age. I ached all over. By the end of the evening I was starting to feel Ronald Reagan's age, and retired to bed, with the words of the theme from The Dukes Of Hazzard ringing in my ears.

"Some day the mountain might get them (but the law never will)"