Everybody who's lived in or visited Ft. Collins has seen Horsetooth Rock.  I was first introduced to this massive pegmatite monolith by Dr. Schaff, then director of bands at CSU, on my first day in Colorado back in June 1995.  It is a very prominent landmark visible from anywhere in the Ft. Collins area.  Although its resemblance to a horse's tooth is dubious, everyone knows it by that name.  It towers 7,300 ft only a couple of miles from the edge of town, just beyond the reservoir which bears the same name.  Up until 1982, it was private property owned by the Soderburg family, but became one of  the the first "open space" tax acquisitions of Larimer county.
     I would by no stretch rank the trail system high in those characteristics that influence me most - beauty, tree population, isolation, quiet - for it is in an area primarily devoid of trees and greenery, and its close proximity to town ensures a large herd of overly-vocal and ridiculous- acting locals.  Its rocky, dusty slopes provide a nursery for cactus, rabbitbrush and shortgrass, with a spattering of Ponderosa pines on the northern slopes.

   I hiked to the near-top of the rock for the first time in October 1999 with Andra.  Despite the waning seasonal warmth, the day we chose to hike was very warm, and the open-faced slopes that dominate the first half of the hike afforded no respite from the sun's unfettered glare.  I was darn near panting in the heat, and the heavy clothes I had worn in anticipation of cool weather were burdensome at best.  Towards the top, the trail curved around so we were no longer ascending the south, and most exposed, slope.  The trees became more frequent and presently a nice, dense canopy arose over the trail to cast a mollifying shade.  We stopped twice to rest and drink. We drained our canteens fast, but managed to make it up the 2.5 mile trail in a little over an hour.
     At some point within 100 ft of the summit the slope of the rock formation becomes closed to bipedal ascent, and bouldering one's way up the top on all fours is required.  I climbed as high as I felt I could without seriously chancing injury (as is my usual policy in this life without health insurance) and enjoyed the views.  Indeed I managed to climb right up into the split of the famous incisors.
     Andra and I napped in the sun, lying on a bed of windblown grass near the top (since we were no longer moving, it was pretty cozy temperature-wise).  Black jays and chickadees hopped and flitted all about the crowns of the pines in search of food.  Occasionally a squirrel would scramble through the underbrush.  The principle attraction, however, was the view of Fort Collins to the east.  The panorama afforded by this perch 3,000 ft above the city streets is very impressive, and the photographs which came back with me hardly do it justice.  We spent half an hour pointing out landmarks - CSU, King Soopers, the tree in the field behind my house, etc.
     The longer we dallied up top, the more our space was encroached upon by members of our own species. Being generally misanthropic, I led the way as we hightailed it down in a very short time, having the benefit of some pretty steep downhill terrain to keep us moving briskly.  Back at the car, the thermometer within had maxed out at 120 F.  Just not your typical October day.