We head for the hills west, on the drive I couldn’t help but think of the settlers before us. Stopped in a tiny town of 284 for lunch opened the hatch and out flew the lunch. Town was complete with one slide, some horse shoes as big as Aida’s body and yes a white picnic table for lunch.

The cabin is just out of keystone called the crossroads cabins, pure bliss tasteful style, the smell of pine seeps from the walls and silence takes hold of you. 20120604-212342.jpg

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