The village of Colorow is enclosed by a colossal amphitheatre of dove-gray stone, in whose niches wind-warped pines stand like spectators silent and waiting. Six thousand feet above the valley floor green and orange slopes run to the edges of perennial ice-fields, while farther away, and peering above these
almost inaccessible defences, like tents of besieging Titans, rise three great mountains gleaming with snow and thunderous with storms