It's time once again for my annual birthday wine-drinking report:

On July 2, I drove to Telluride, Colo., a safe outdoor sanctuary I have sojourned to almost every year of the 22 I have lived in Santa Fe. I hadn't made the trip in about two years, so I was filled with anticipation as I loaded up my car with my life's necessities: Lulu, my black lab, my mountain bike, air mattress, single propane burner, cast-iron pan, box of matches, a thick ribeye steak, some slices of salami, two huge "birthday" cookies that my neighbor baked, a gallon of water, a quart of Gatorade, a small chest of ice and three bottles of wine.

There are few drives that I love more than the six-hour trek north from Santa Fe to Telluride: through Chama, big left at Durango, right at Dolores and the last glorious hour climbing up to Telluride's box canyon, blue skies loaded with ominous white thunderheads peeking over the Rocky Mountains.

I followed a familiar dirt service road down into a canyon along the South Fork River and four-wheeled it into my secret riverside campsite. I took my birthday bottle of 1996 Vietti Barolo Lazzaritto out of the cooler, set it on a flat boulder with a stemless Riedel Nebiollo glass and set up camp. The sun was setting in the tops of the trees and the air was damp and cool. Lulu was as excited as me to be in our safe place. The cast iron pan balanced perfectly on the burner and the salted ribeye sizzled as I opened the Barolo.

Vietti is one of my favorite producers of Barolo, and 1996 was a classic, five-star vintage. The Vietti Lazzarito Barolo was packed with a nose of red currants, sour cherries, star anise spice and violets. The palate echoed the nose and was even more powerful and deep. The tannins were ripping, and primary fruit was lively and abundant. As with Burgundy, I love the aromatic fireworks of a good Barolo, but with this bottle I was convinced that Barolo far outlives Burgundy, more youthful at an older age.

It was still dark when the reason I came to Telluride drove me out of slumber: a five-hour bike/hike to the top of Lizard Head Peak. I filled a backpack with a lunch of salami and Gatorade, and I pedaled upward to the morning sun as it rose on the face of Sunshine Mesa. Lulu and I then abandoned the bike and found a way to cross the river to the Lizard Head trailhead. We climbed the winding trail another hour and reached the top. In a meadow with clouds rolling overhead and a small river winding its way through tall grass, I laid down on the face of a huge fallen tree that was perfectly silvered and smooth and took a nap. The privilege of climbing a Rocky Mountain 14er is you can leave behind whatever drove you to get there. And I did.

It took only an hour to come off the mountain. Back at camp, I had a half bottle of Krug Champagne in the ice chest waiting. All wines have a memory map, and when I popped the Krug on a flat boulder in the middle of the river, it uncorked a cherished memory. I was celebrating a one-year anniversary with a girl I loved in a New York hotel room on Union Square with pizza the first time I drank Krug Champagne. It was everything I wanted: compelling, captivating and sensual; the Champagne was great too. At the river, the Krug had a nose of rich crème brulée, and a consistent lemony palate of sharp bubbles that lingered and made me stop and listen to the rhythm of the river.

The half bottle slowly emptied and I found myself submersed in the river. My 24 hours alone on the mesa were soon up, and I broke camp and headed to town for a hotel room and a hot shower.

Telluride is the most bike and dog-friendly town in the U.S. On my bike, my dog and I started our late afternoon crawl at the Excelsior on the corner of Telluride's main street.

As the last of the day's sun started to hit the wall of the mountain at the east end of Telluride's box canyon, I wound my way to La Marmotte, a restaurant I have been going to for 20 years since it was owned by the Frenchman Bertrand and his wife. My dinner partners at the other four bar stools turned out to be a friendly crew: Bryan, a wine retailer; Katie, a music event coordinator; Aubrey, a "play therapist;" and Wynn, a beautiful schoolteacher. The last time I was at La Marmotte my friend Peter Rosback's Sinnean Pinot Noir was on the wine list. Not tonight, though, so I pulled out the bottle of 2005 Sinnean Ressonance Vineyard that I had brought and asked Merin if we could share it around. She obliged and poured herself and the five of us a glass each. The pinot was in fine form, showing red cherry cola notes, medium alcohol and superb balance.

With my braised rabbit and mushrooms, off the wine list I chose a 2005 Anne Gros Vosne Romanée Les Barreaux. The wine was beautifully perfumed, sappy with red and black raspberry fruit, penetrating with juicy minerality and sweet tannins perfectly framed in excellent acidity. After dinner, I bopped around town with my new companions. The streets were filled with revelers in anticipation of tomorrow's Fourth of July parade. I slept well.

To my great surprise and joy, on Sunday, two of my Santa Fe friends flew their small plane to Cortez and rented a car. Before I finished my two-hour morning bike ride to Alta Lake on the Prospect Trail, they were on Main Street waiting to meet me for the parade. We grabbed a patio table at Café Rustico. Though the wine list was pages long, it didn't take but a minute for me to choose the Bruno Giacosa Brut Spumante 2003 off the list to share with our salads and pizzas.

A pale, straw color with a fine bead, the Giacosa had a fat and lovely apple and brioche flavor, exhibiting the fullness of the warm 2003 vintage. One of my favorite Italian sparklers with two of my favorite people in one of my favorite places, we toasted my birthday, the Constitution and how good life can be — especially with wine in it.

Greg O'Byrne is executive director of the Santa Fe Wine & Chile Fiesta. His column appears in Taste on the third Wednesday of every month. Questions or comments? Write to vinevents@aol.com.