It is the type of place where opportunities for KAVU Days abound. Mountain bikers have access to endless trails in all directions with varied terrain. Fly fishers wade premiere waters to find the thickest of fish. Kayakers & river surfers ride a wave in the town center while onlookers enjoy post-dinner ice cream cones. Cyclists cruise the nearly fifty mile long paved pedestrian trail through a bucolic valley that parallels steep mountains to the west. If all else fails, you can always leisurely float the river upon inner tubes with your chosen beverage in hand alongside your favorite homies.

We sky seekers also find abundant means of expression in this Rocky Mountain gem. Two hikable launches overlook the expanse of the city, providing easy access to the delight of being in the air. This summer has seen a noticeable growth in the number of active pilots in the local club.

The more inveterate cloud junkies have put up some impressive lines in most of the cardinal directions. However, the widest smiles for miles occurs when a the sky is filled with a veritable gaggle of madmen under vibrant nylon wings during the magic hours of a summer afternoon as music plays from the Downtown Tonight celebrations in the main municipal park.

One evening, when the tunes below were just not to my liking, I casually sky-cruised over to the Falcon’s Nest (my name for the Shapiro household) and landed in the neighboring field. We then hiked up a nearby hill and picked huckleberries until sunset.

That is the spirit of the place.

A friend and I decided to see if we could put together the ideal KAVU Night. We set our aim on sleeping atop one of the hills, which would allow for a sunrise speedwing boogie into the canyon and across the river. Carson and I began hiking at the auspicious hour of 10p.m., well into the realm of night. However, as the trail climbs a mostly treeless slope and the city lights saturated the lower portions of the landscape, we easily ascended the switch-backing path without the the need for headlamps.

A few other nocturnal swashbucklers made their way up to the “M” a quarter of the way to the crest. Their laughter faded as we continued onward, and we attempted to identify buildings and landmarks based the the patterns of light. A single dark vein ran through the center of the sea of illumination, signaling the long, ever-flowing transition of snow melt to ocean.

At some point, Carson confessed that he forgot both water and snacks. I shared my provisions and affably teased him about this hiccup, since he was supposed to be the seasoned mountain adventurer. How is it that the one from Jersey was better prepared than the one who grew up just outside of Glacier National Park? We laughed about it and merrily finished the hike.

At the top, we rejoiced in being there and the inherent silliness of the midsummer’s night adventure. We unrolled our inflatable pads and sleeping bags and laid out under the open sky. A constellation of factors came together to make it an exceptional display.

Mirroring the glow from the city and headlights of traveling cars, that night’s full moon radiated across the sky, but not too much so as to obscure the annual Perseid meteor shower of August. Shootings stars ran across the expanse as we fell asleep.