How have I managed to overlook this fun, sprightly little ridge rock-hop right outside my front window for nearly all my life?

Growing up in Lakewood, just a few minutes from Red Rocks and the Hogback, this little stretch of nondescript flat ridge between Red Rocks and the cleft of the Hogback for 285 has somehow avoided my detection, while I road-biked around the area, ran portions of the ridge just north and mountain-biked adjacent areas. But on Saturday April 4 (anniversary of MLK's assassination), I drove the familiar miles to Morrison road, and, for the first time ever, took the unmarked left turn to the west of Bear Creek Lake Park that I'd passed innumerable times, and found a place to park.

The goal was to jog into Bear Creek Lake Park from this side, but a sign for the "Mt Glennon Bouldering Area" on the opposite side captured my attention, and I explored. A perfect trip for the boys, I thought, and so I investigated to make sure it would be suitable for them.

Interlude: if you don't care about personal, feel-good shit, then skip this paragraph. I gave up on being a dad many years ago. My first wife and I split up soon after I turned 30, and I spent most of my 30s single. When I met my second wife, she had a medical condition that I knew might make it impossible for her to bear children, and that became the case. She and I have had a great life, and we were content to be a loving aunt and uncle pair. Then a friend told us of these children, two brothers of four, whose mother's drug addiction made her an unfit parent. Two of the brothers had a home with relatives, but these two did not....We decided to foster to adopt; Carmine and Antonio moved in with us last June. Between the late spring snow that caused some complications and the challenges of going from just two adults to new parents of a 7 year old and 12 year old, my peak count in the summer of 2019 was lower than it had been in a decade. But one peak that was memorable was a repeat of Guyot on a full moon morning and gorgeous sunrise.

Fast forward to Sunday, April 5, and I have the boys in tow, now 8 and 13, glad to be headed up for the first hike in several weeks, and a scramble, which Tony, the younger of the two, simultaneously yearns for and fears. The trail from the parking lot ascends two sets of steep steps, and then a short distance to the bottom of a slab, where rock shoes would help. The trail then skirts the edge of the slab, climbing steadily, allowing various access points to the broken boulders above the slab. Leaving the trail to scamper up this morass of rocks and brush, the terrain steepens and you soon can look down back the way you came and see Morrison road and the other side of Hogback with the overhang that draws climbers like bees to honey.

We venture up the rocks; really just class 2 walking, but with some exultant jumping over gaps on Carmine's part, and timid four-point class 3 for poor Tony, who is still just shy of four feet. The exposure in places spooked him, and we had to guide him to small paths further from the edge, where rock gave way to dirt and scrubby brush. Once on top of the ridge, it continues mostly flat, offering a joyous jaunt along the edge, mostly walking at the top of the slabs that are uplift from the east, with a sheer drop off the west edge, but affording a decent, cozy foot-width, and with occasional options to climb short cracks and ribs jutting down.

The three of us enjoyed the calm sunny day. Carmine led the way, bounding and leaping gaps between the rocks. I followed, keeping an eye ahead to him and encouraging Tony, who mostly kept a distance from the edge and walked on slender footpaths between the bushes, over pebbles and grass.

This photo was taken about halfway to the top.

At the top, we took time to drink some water, and then play hide-and-seek. The trip down was much easier, and, toward the bottom, we found something interesting near the giant climber's slab: an orange jail jumpsuit. When we got down to the car, cops had arrived and were discussing it. They were waiting for a third cop, the "young buck," to go up and retrieve the apparel/evidence.

A fun outing in the midst of this stay-at-home pandemic watch that we're weathering. I enjoyed the hike, and that we had nobody else on it with us -- most thankfully, not the former wearer of the jumpsuit!