The river behind our hotel suite. Perfect for helping you fall asleep. And within peeing distance of the balcony.
Prarie dogs pretty much run the joint. Almost flattened this guy with the rental car.
We rock-climbed some dangerous terrain and got wet and muddy getting around this frigid lake. But the toughest part for me was not having cell-phone service.
A cigarette vending machine in a bar is both a throwback, and a way to commit slow suicide for a mere seven bucks (Meanwhile, for only a buck more, you can put a helmet on that soldier in Cannes.)
The former whorehouse where my friends Mark and Michelle treated us to dinner. These days, the crabs are stuffed into herb-encrusted trout.
Me, doing Q&A after the screening of my film. Put a nickel in me and I’ll run for hours. But all jesting aside, the crowd was super receptive, seemed to really love the film and made my job a cinch by asking very intelligent questions. Plus they gave me the opportunity to close with a rousing "We love you, Breckenridge!"