Colorado 
Denver_ 10
_the Far WEST 10.20 - 12.22 '98
We left Oregon under gray skies. Rain periodically speckled the windshield as we drove through the Columbia Gorge. In the desert landscape that defines the eastern side of the state, the skies opened up to big blue skies. Welcome to Idaho.
Boise Idaho was cold at sunset. A fresh layer of snow had dusted the high country the night before. Fall came early in October, and most of the leaves were dying on the overgrown lawns. We devoured hot pizza on a cold night in the Octoberfestivities.
Crisp air, blue skies, and open road slowly revealed a pleasant next day. We stopped in Sun Valley for lunch. After taking in all the quaintness and nutrition we could digest, we drove through Craters Of The Moon National Volcanic Park. Then as fast as we wanted through Montana (no speed limits) to Bozeman.
We spent a late night out with Holly, Joe, and Todd Scott partying it up with the mud seasonal ski crowd. The next day we only had time for a quick brunch at The Stockyard. Then it was off for a day photographing Yellowstone.
Last weekend was the end of the their season. But the antelopes didn’t seem to wait for the last of the guests to leave the park. We snapped some shots of Antelope grazing next to the lodge as the snow in the mountains pushed them into the lower altitudes.
There are some 10,000 geothermal places in Yellowstone, and we shot mammoth hot springs, the upper and lower falls, the geyser fields, and the grand daddy of them all, Old Faithful.
We parked the car in the near desolate parking lot at the end of the cold day near the big geyser. Jen pulled an extra parka over her head. I grabbed the camera. We found a hundred or so people standing around a steaming hole.
I knew Old Faithful erupted between an hour and 90 minuets religiously. What I didn’t know was how long it had been since the last eruption. So I started asking people. The first couple hand just arrived. Another had been waiting only ten minutes. Another 20. Then the final guy I asked had been there 72 minutes. (He was blue) So I knew we were close. But before I could turn to tell Jen, we heard a little kid yell, "there it goes!"
We turned to look, and sure enough, we had walked up just in time. I hope to develop the photos in the next few days.
South from Yellowstone is Teton National Park. The bluish dark sky after sunset was the backdrop to the grand tetons as we drove into Jackson Hole that night.
We checked out the wild
west little town, had some beers and grub and hit the hay. The next day we went back up
the road a few miles to shoot one of my favorite Ansel Adam’s photos; The Snake River
foreground Grand Teton black and white. But just to be safe, we snapped 10!
The deer and the antelope played in the hundreds as we drove through Wyoming later that day. Just as the sun set behind the rocky mountains outside of Denver, we pulled into Tom and Nancy’s late Sunday night. Whew.
[See the photos]Yesterday was Jen’s first day at the eye clinic. She works in Cherry Creek, south of Denver. I spent the day job hunting. I got offered a job today in the Tech Center south of that.
We jumped into the Denver commuter scene the last few days from 5 miles south of Boulder. I’m supposed to start tomorrow. Welcome to commuter hell. Looks like an hour one way! I guess I’ll have to pay my dues. It’s a long ways from those glorious days of walking down the hill to work in San Francisco.
But it did snow up in the Rockies again this weekend. Supposedly a few resorts are already open. Rocky Mountain Notational Park closed all their summit roads for the season.
Outside, the crisp cold air, smells of snow. El Nina promises a famous season. Let the snow fall, and the fun begin, in the highest ski terrain in the country! Yahoo!
Opening DAY - Nov 1
It was morning. The night of the dead was over. The eve of the disembodied deities was past. Underfoot the ground was hard and brown. The sky above was thick with snow clouds. Anticipation blew from the West in the crisp November air.
We stood at the edge of the American Great Plains. In a windswept community in the shadow of the dominating Rocky Mountain westward horizon. A lone wind chime gently signaled in the still air, it was time once again.
We hurried through the chilly forenoon. Liberating gear from long ago. Parkas and poles, skies and gloves, the battle armament of the alpine warrior that hadn’t paid homage, since last season.
Hastily we loaded our courser and pointed her toward the high country. Up, up, up, she steadily ascended. No mountain pass a match for her determinable ambition under snow capped pinnacles. When we did stop, it was only to supplement gear, to prepare as best we could, for the first run of the season.
We hoped the breeze full, dancing snowflakes floating earthbound. But instead found only a zephyr of passing haunted spirits, returning home, from the night before.
It in the base parking lot, we unloaded. It was Sunday. This was our church. We ritualistically strapped into our gear. Only a single path, a lone trail, a narrow glimpse into the future of the season was passable. And so it would be.
Baptized in a muddy river. Reverent in our rite. The first run of the year.
Boulder Ski Deals _ too good to be true?
It was another busy week night at Boulder Ski deals. Snow was in the air and everyone who wanted new gear for the season jammed this little retail ski store. I was getting new boots and skies. The first new alpine gear since high school.
I picked out my skies in record time thanks to a recommendation from Tom and the sales guy. I set them by the cash register with a commission name and went to the boot fitting room.
There I spent over an hour. My boot fitting sales guy was a pro. He spent plenty of time with me ensuring a good fit and a comfortable boot. The closing hour passed and the place was still busy. These boots felt right. I felt good. It was time to buy and let the guys close down.
My sales guy walked my boots to the mounting counter and told me to go get me skies. I filled out the mounting form and took the paper work to the cashier. I realize that in haste, the guys had over looked the price of the skis. They were $350 and I knew if I just stood quietly, I could get them for free.
Always a moral dilemma when one’s virtue is tested. I decided to go back and request the full ticket. The mounting guy looked at me with admiration. He was about my age, and I could tell by the look in his eye, he might not be as virtuous.
At the cash register I felt ethical. She rang up my order and locked the door behind me. Out in the car, I looked at my receipt. She had charged me for the skies and the mounting, but this time forgot the $250 boots. I was driving down the road when I did the math in the my head. Good lord, they were trying to give this gear away!
I turned the car around in the dark snowy night. I drove back to the dimly lit store and beat on the door until someone let me in.
I explained that I hadn’t been charged for the boots and the young woman, probably only making 6 bucks an hour, thanked me for my honesty. Again.
She shot me a smile, the kind of smile, that reassures people. A smile that states the world we live in is good, and right, and honest. It’s day to day dealings with ordinary people are not reflective of all the shit we see on the nightly news. People want to do the right thing. And when they can afford it, the cosmic karma of the universe, the balance of good is more important than a few bucks.
Bad karma on new ski gear is not a good combination. And for my part, I’ve again achieved a oneness with the world.
Nancy picked up my gear later that week, and last weekend I strapped into the boards and took them for a ride. I felt good, and just, and balance was mine.
2nd run of the yearOne week later we returned to the baptismal river. This time, Keystone had several runs open. More lifts. And more people. Eric was in the for the weekend. Nancy and Jen stayed home. It was just the boys.
We got on the chairlift and screamed down the hills. We didn’t have to wait for anyone! Over and over until my legs burned and the lunch hour was gone. I was in my new shaped skies. The first brand new pair of sticks I had bought in 10 years. I had toyed with Huck’s old skies a few times, but they were either too old or too long or just not quite right. These, are just right.
Eric showed Tom and I a trick to cutting with the new shaped 180cm skis. We quickly got the hang of it. Snow fell all day. The speed, the control, the pure joy for the sport, all came back run after run after run.
Last week my snowboard was my instrument of choice. Jen and I struggled a bit in the less than hospital conditions. But this week the conditions were better, and my tools for pleasure were improved. I felt great!
When Tom left to catch his plane, Eric & I stopped in the bar. Our waitress turned out to be old Cadillac High School graduate Marny Motters. She had been living and working in Colorado the last few years. She served up a few beers and we settled into the apre ski and watched the game. Earlier that day we had bumped into Todd Scott’s older sister preparing for race camp.
A few hours later we were still drinking. We had kicked off our boots, the snow was still falling hard, the bar was packed, the beers were flowing. We decided we’d finish our runs tomorrow. Marny brought another round.
When night fell and the crowds had gone home, we were still at the bar. Marny had invited us over for dinner, but we finally declined and made our way back down the mountains. We were sure we’d return the next day, Eric only had Monday left in Colorado, so I took the day off from work.
We woke up early and loaded the Jeep. But when we couldn’t get the tailgate shut, we knew our day was about to change. A quick stop at the dealer may for go the first tracks of the day, but wouldn’t prevent us from making some turns. Or so we thought.
It took an hour to get in. An hour to figure out they didn’t have the part. Another few hours to get the part. Another hour to put it in. Another to let us know. Pretty soon the day was gone, and our so was our motivation. We got the jeep fixed, but now had to get Eric on a plane in only a few hours. Or window of opportunity had shut.
Even though Eric only got in one day of skiing, we still had a fun weekend. The night he landed we toured around Denver’s Sodo district. After he finished work on Sat, we toured through the breweries & bars in Boulder. That night Tom cooked a big pasta meal. Colorado opened up her hospitality, and we graciously accepted.
On the way home my cell phone rang. It was another recruiter. "How do you feel about a dream job in Antarctica?"I couldn’t believe my ears. It seems a big corporate research center in Antarctica is headquartered in Denver. They’d give me $1,000 a week and all expenses paid for the flight, lodging, and meals. The opportunity of a lifetime. I’d have to leave almost immediately and return stateside in a few months at the end of their summer. The deal I’d waited for all my life. I could finally step foot on the lost continent.
I’ve purposely kept myself out of financial commitments. Never gotten into car payments, a mortgage, or the economic entanglements of civilization. Primarily so when opportunities like this present themselves, (Uganda Mountain Gorilla Leader) I would be free to embrace them. In a moments notice - jump on them. JUMP INTO THE ADVENTURE!
I’d have to leave before Christmas. Miss my family, just once. Leave Jen for a few months, and miss time in San Diego. A small price to pay to stand on the wildest of the world’s continents. The most expensive, the most exciting ,and adventurous place left on Earth.
Yet in my heart a light shone bright. A heart light filled with Jen’s love for me. Filled with love for her, filled with looking forward to time with her, to cuddling, to making love, to talking, to talking silly, to playing, to sometimes arguing, to the fulfilling and loving, day in and day out engagements of being engaged. Suddenly I couldn’t bring myself to accept. I couldn’t do it. Not if there were any chance that I’d lose her.
She said there wasn’t. But there was always a chance. Always a chance. A chance if I were out of sight, out of mind, out of the hemisphere, I’d fall a little from her heart.
And true I supposed, that even in marriages when mates sleep next to each other every night they can still fall out of love. But this seemed larger, and in the middle of our engagement. Too much of a risk. And risking her, risking our relationship, I finally realized, is not worth any prize. Not worth any price.
I realized I was already rich. I have achieved what I want. Jen is my fulfillment.
And with that piece of mind, with a tranquilly and stillness, a completeness in my soul, not readily felt, my world suddenly seemed absolutely clear.
The outside world, her amazing adventures, and all her glory, can never outshine the light of love in my heart for Jen.
So if I can not take Jen to Antarctica with me now, then we’ll wait until I can. And if that day never comes, then I will live out my life and never regret it.
Weekend 3 Ski
The blue skies were completely clear of clouds. Warm sunshine blanketed the whole snowy white Rocky Mountain chain. Tom, Nancy, and I were on the chairlift at Breckenridge early Saturday morning. Strapped to my feet were my new alpine skies and boots. This was day two in my private testing grounds.
We pounded out runs all day. There weren’t any black runs open in the early season, so we speed tested our gear. Fast run after fast run, we flew up and down the mountain. We refined our techniques on the shaped skies.
At the base it was over 50 degrees. Some people skied in shorts. Spring skiing days weren’t this warm! Our faces got tan, our legs got soar, and tomorrow, I was going to go it all over again. Only Tomorrow it would be snowboarding with Jen, and Edwin who was landing tonight. But first I had to meet Brian.
EngagementThick smoke filled the downtown Denver watering hole. The nosey bar was packed. In a corner, on the top floor, a small group of strangers sat around a tiny table. I sat with them, between Jen and Edwin. Edwin had just landed an hour before, and we were all going snowboarding early the next day.
The group of strangers were friends of friends. I had called the two brothers when I first arrived in Denver. The youngest of the brothers was named Brian. He was long time friend of my San Francisco chum Jay. Jay had insisted I call his old friend for a drink, he kept people engaged; never a dull moment with these guys, I was promised.
After a few weeks of phone tag, Saturday we finally met. Sort of.
First we met his older brother Scott. The plan was to turn a few beers at the brothers’ condo a mile from downtown. We would meet up with the brothers, girlfriends, and other friends, then all head downtown. Jen, Edwin, and I arrived on time.
Steadily the others showed up. Everyone was there except Brian. The younger brother and his girlfriend had gone out for dinner several hours earlier. They still weren’t back.
Eventually it was decided we would all meet at the downtown bar. We did. Jen, Edwin, and I arrived at the upstairs table last. We first had a round downstairs. Everyone else was already seated.
We assumed we saw Brian on the other side of the noisy table. There were a dozen people crowded around. We were sitting next to this girlfriend. She was from Boulder, and we got to talking about Colorado. Edwin got up to get more beers.
Eventually Brain worked his way over to us. He started to hold out his hand. I thought at last we would finally meet. But he brushed past us. Extended his hand to his girlfriend. She had her back against the wall. The loud music was pounding, I wasn’t clear on what exactly was said, but in Brian’s had there was no mistake.
A large, clean, sparkling, white diamond in a ring of gold.
This was it! Perhaps the most import moment of his life. His long dinner didn’t produce the right moment. Somehow now, the moment tiptoed right past everyone and into the pub. It was hiding in the evening’s soiree. Everyone was completely caught off guard. Even the older brother looked absolutely shocked.
Soon champagne was flowing. Tall thin glasses were being clinked together. There were toasts to new engagements, new horizons, and new friends. By the way, "I’m Brain." He finally introduced himself.
It seemed Brian had to literally tape the ring to his leg to avoid ‘pat downs’ from his prospective bride during dinner. She thought she knew what was coming. But when it hadn’t, she had all but given up. The element of surprise was all his.
And Edwin’s. When he got back from getting the round of beers, the whole thing was over.
Being witness, first hand, to such a intimate moment in two people’s lives, was remarkable. Even though I’m certain we’ll get to know Brian better in the months to come, his initial introduction made quiet an impression. Sharing a young couples’ engagement was a interesting way to spend a Saturday night.
Jay was correct, never a dull moment.
Sunday we hit the slopes again. Down the mountains in Denver I heard the high temperature reached 78 degrees. Seventy Eight Degrees in November! Los Angles wasn’t that warm this weekend. And in the mountains it was another bright sunny day.
Edwin rented a board, Jen and I strapped into ours, and we shredded around Breckenridge another day under perfect skies. The weather couldn’t have been better.
Today is Monday. I’m sitting in the Trident Café in Boulder. Since ending my contract last week, I’ve a few days off. It feels great. My face in tan, my legs are soar, and my fingers are flying across the keyboard.
I’m updating my web page, writing down the memories, and editing my novel. Perhaps I’ll even look for a job this afternoon. Nah, there’s always tomorrow!
unemployed & liking it
After finishing my month contract at Time Warner, what am I doing with the other month in Colorado?
Easy.
I’m filling my days with sleeping in, mid afternoon sipping coffee, long writing, and a little e-mail.
I sleep in most mornings. Waking up when it feels right, not when some little noisy instrument of annoyance dictates. I get up gradually. In a room filled with warm sunlight. By the time I rise, the stock markets have been busily at work for hours on the east coast. I get up and check trends. Who’s up, who’s down. Whether my stock watch internet program has already sold, or bought that day. While I’m online, I send a little e-mail and keep in touch with my friends across the country. Sometimes I even chat voice on the phone. Or watch a little CNBC, or even MTV, as the morning gradually turns to afternoon.
Then, usually about the time my stomach starts asking for lunch, I drive the couple miles Boulder. Recently those drives has been under wonderful sunny skies with the windows rolled down. Last weekend, Denver set another record for the warmest day in history. It feels more like September than December. I never wear a coat.
I walk around Pearl Street and grab a bite of lunch at one of my favorite places. Pizza some days, tacos another. Whatever I want. I’m the king of my destiny. Then I walk to a café. I’ve been frequenting several different ones. The historic Trident; favorite of the Greenpeace gang. Or a brighter, lighter, café a few blocks down called Bookend; quickly becoming one of my favorites. Or still another one up on The Hill called Buchans, right across from the university; usually busier, and always more collegiate.
Nevertheless, wherever, I sip a mocha, or latte, or even an ice tea in the recent heat, and flip open my little Toshiba canvas. I spend a few hours painting the words that will come to define my history, my life. The words that I publish, and will go back and read. The words that remind me how I felt in different stages and places in my life.
What was I really thinking those cold nights camping in Crested Butte? What did I find exploring those remote islands in the Caribbean? How bad did I dislike Michigan winters and corporate plight? And what did I do, all those days off in Boulder, not working between Portland and San Diego.
The journals and web essays that add up to all those hundreds of thousands of words. Some good, some bad, some awe inspiring, some mundane & boring. But all mine. All the words that make up my life; exciting and relaxing -- working and playing -- employed and unemployed.
At last - Crested Butte 12.5.98
It was one degree above zero when we pulled out of the parking lot at 10 p.m. The Colorado sun had slipped behind the mountains many hours ago. But at Keystone that didn’t matter we’d been out all evening.
When the sun goes down in summit county, the lights come up on the slopes of Keystone. The mountains glow a fiery white that can be seen for miles. Tom, Nancy, and I had come to play.
We sat down on the high speed chairlifts about the time most people sat down for dinner. Our weekday commute wasn’t through rush hour traffic, it was through mountain passes.
We spent last Thursday night skiing.
There’s something unique to the sport of skiing when the sun sets. The air turns very cold. The wind dies down to almost nothing. People go indoors, and coyotes come out.
But if you stay
out with the big dogs, you’ll be rewarded. First the snowcats churn up, then smooth out the runs. The freezing temperatures keeps the snow perfectly cold, groomed, and fast. Can you say, "need for speed." Additionally, there is an absence of other skiers in which to share the slopes. The only downside is how cold the air feels on your face as you push it out of your way. But overall, the performance reward is divine.My shaped skiers grabbed onto the turns and wouldn’t let go. At any speed! They held fast and furious to the cold snow. I could do no wrong. Tom and I counted off turns to make sure we weren’t getting sloppy in the later runs. Fifty here, a hundred there. We pounded them out, down the long cold runs, hour after hour.
There were no lift lines. No skiers getting in one’s way. And when it was time to warm up, there were also no lines at the bar.
We had the resort to ourselves. Night skiing in another world.
We were the kings of our dark land. Vail & Brek & Frisco 12.12.98I spoke into the radio, "Affirmative Ghost-rider, we have acquired the
payload." 
"10-4. We are in position, proceed to rendezvous." I head the radio crackle back as Jen shot me a strange look. I don’t think she liked being called the payload. And she didn’t know it was Mitch on the other end.
It was Friday afternoon. I had picked up Molly at the airport first and then picked up Jen after work.
The radio I held was one of Mitch’s pair. He, Roxy, Floyd, and Paul were in a rented 4 wheel drive a mile away at the Cherry Cricket Bar. We were all heading up to the mountains for a weekend of skiing. Everyone had landed within the hour. They were of course, thirsty.
We all sipped our beers together at the
rendezvous. We were waiting out the Friday after work traffic.
Just after 6pm we were back in our vehicles when I heard the radio exclaim, "I-70 West, visual confirmed, break right." I followed the white 4wd toward the mountains and into the sleepy little town of Golden.
In the shadow of the Coors brewing plant a sign stretched across the small main street read; Where the West Lives. We stopped in a local watering hole for another beer. In the foothills of the Great Rocky Mountains, we toasted to the beginning of their vacation.
We snapped some photos and soon were back on the road. But only a few miles into the mountains I heard the walkie-talkie crackle again. It was time to pull over once more. This time in Idaho Springs at the TommyKnockers Brewery. Again we toasted to the Rocky Mountain State. By now, Jen was driving.
We continued through the Eisenhower Tunnel and into Summit county. In Frisco, we found our condo and dumped off our gear. The tiny mountain town only had a few watering holes, and in the hours that followed, we found each and every one.
Saturday morning came as it does too
quickly, too loudly, and too brilliant. But after a few glasses of water, and a hearty
breakfast, we were on the high speed quads of Breckenridge. We had added to our crew by
hooking up with Tom, Nancy, Megan, and Leslie. 
The light snow cover didn’t afford us the full terrain of the mountain, but we skied what was open. Everyone hung tough through the afternoon after coming up from sea level only a day before. But the thin air, late night, and recent exercise caught up to everyone during in the apre ski. We sat down a little weary back in town after the lifts closed. Everyone attempted to refuel. We needed something to fire us back up. We needed a parade!
How perfect; one just happened to be starting at 6pm. So we climbed back up to street level from the downstairs bar. The quaint Breckenridge’s streets of only a few blocks were suddenly jammed with people.
The annual holiday lighting of the town was just getting underway. We readied the cameras and sent out a century.
The parade was supposed to march through town then end in the park with Christmas caroling. We stood on the crowded street combating the cold and waiting. Jen slipped off to the bathroom.
By the time she had gotten back, the parade was over. Well, not completely, but it mainly consisted of the Brekenridege police Land Rovers, a few horse drawn carriages, and several pickups with hot air balloon baskets in the back.
She saw the baskets. How could anyone miss them?
The baskets were rigged up with all the fuel and igniters that were required to propel
several stories of hot air balloons high into the air. Yet tonight, there were no
balloons. Instead, only the flare throwing, fire blasting, loud ignition systems that were
spewing flames twenty feet into the starry cold sky. 
The blaring noise of the blasts could be heard several blocks away. It was quite a wild spectacle. But basically, that was it. That was the show.
After the fire breathing pickups, resembling monster dragstrip cars, thundered through the town, there wasn’t much left. Just a few more land rovers followed behind as cleanup. Some townspeople marched toward the end. But who could hear any caroling with their ear drums temporary ringing from the rocket blasting balloon baskets?!
What I did hear was someone mention the hot tub back at the condo. Soon the only noise we noticed was the gentle humming of the hot tub bubbles massaging and kneading our cold sore muscles.
"Water World to base. Water World to
base. Come in. We need more beers." I called into the radio. "10-4." The
blue Motorola cooed back.
So we reclined in the frosty air, sipping frosty beers, and relaxing in gurgling warm water.
Then I heard, "Ground control to Major Tom. - The door is open, and the shower is turned on."
The dash back up to the condo from the hot tub was freezing. We fired up the shower inside, and at strict intervals of 90 seconds, one by one, ran the gauntlet of cold, back into the condo, through the constantly running steaming shower, and into our clothes for the night.
Sufficiently warmed up from the tub we went into Frisco to grab a late dinner and a few
more beers. We took it a little easier Saturday night because tomorrow was Vail.
At the base of the Nations largest ski resort, we again snapped into our gear. The sun was even warmer on Sunday and the snow even thinner. It was amazing how light the coverage was in mid December. But we took advantage of the lifts that were open. And when we got tired, we decided to do a little deck surfing at mid Vail.
Sipping expensive beers we waited out the end of the day watching the sun slip behind the mountains. Instead of skiing, Mitch and Roxy decided to shop around Vail Village and go on happy hour reconnaissance.
"One dollar drafts near the river, mid
village. What’s your twenty?" The little blue box squawked on my shoulder.
"Downloading main chair, we’ll be on the ground in less than 3 minutes." I
said.
"10-4. See ya on the ground."
Outside, over looking the river, we sipped our last beers in summit county. Two days of skiing and two nights of drinking was all coming to an end. We toasted our achievement.
Driving down the mountain we avoided hostel bogies and glided into Denver in record time. We made a quick stop in
LODO (Lower Downtown) for dinner and a final libation. We packed Molly into the San Francisco transport and they raced on toward airport with just minutes to spare.
Back at Tom’s that night, Jen and I sank deeply into the soft sofa. We knew the rest of the crew was airborne. They were on their way home. When they landed late Sunday night, they would be tired, soar, and yearning for sleep from a worthy experience. Mission accomplished. 10-4. Over and out.
Aspen 12.18
We pulled into Aspen just after 9 pm on Friday night. It was warm. There was no snow in town. We discovered our hotel was next to the ice rink, and only a block from the main gondola downtown.
This was our last weekend in Colorado. We had no idea what was going to happen on Sunday.
So we went out Friday night. We stopped through all the watering holes Diana had alerted us to. We found a live band at the Wolf and grooved late into the night.
On Saturday we woke up to warm temperatures. There was NO SNOWBOARDING on Ajax, the main Aspen Ski Mountain. One of only a few mountains left in the United States to remain true to the alpine purist pursuit. So Jen decided to ski.
We rented her some gear and I patiently gave her a few pointers. She picked it up in no time. Before teaching her to snowboard that wonderful Sunday almost two years ago, she had only skied a few times. Yet having spent time on the slopes naturally transferred to her skiing ability.
Ajax Mountain is no beginners slope. They don’t even have greens (beginner runs). And less than 25% of the whole place is blue (medium level). That means almost everything is black and double black. The expert terrain is what makes the mountain world class.
But Jen jumped right in. After a few runs under the main chair, we rode all the way to the summit. We looked down Aspen Valley and then skied back to the base. She did excellent, I was very impressed.
That night we found a huge roaring fire in one on the base lodges and snuggled up to several drinks and chatting with some Lear jet pilots that had just flown in. We skied hard that day, took a long hot tub, ate a big meal, drank by the fire, and were quickly relaxing into comatose. We made it back to the hotel early Saturday night. And it’s a good thing that we did.
Confessions of a powder day!Aspen Highlands
Lazily we woke up Sunday morning. I peaked my head out the window to check out the weather. To my surprise there was half a foot of new snow!. And it was still falling!
I jumped out of bed and woke Jen up in a whistle! We were all grins and giggles as we got ready for the day. We walked a block downtown and grabbed a healthy breakfast. We knew we were going to need the energy today.
We loaded up the car and drove down valley. With snow flying everywhere, we drove past Aspen Highlands. Huge snowflakes were pouring out of the sky. We continued beyond Buttermilk. The snow was still falling, but the runs were to easy for us here. The last resort was Snowmass. Only today it wasn’t; a mass of snow. In the l0 minute drive down valley the snow had all but stopped.
We looked at each other confused. We pulled into the parking lot and spoke with the attendant. He confirmed a few new inches and said something like it looks like it might be heading our way. Might be heading out way?!?
We turned around and surely headed back up valley. Almost as soon as we pulled onto the main road, the snow started again.
Back at Aspen Highlands the snow had never let up. It was falling relentlessly. It had dumped all night. It wasn’t heading anywhere but straight down.
Soon enough, we were on the chairlift speeding over it, through it, in it, and to the top of the mountain.
Jen skied very well yesterday on Ajax. But now she had her snowboard strapped on her feet. And truthfully, I’ve skied my whole life, skied power years and years while living in Colorado and California. It’s great! It’s like sex! It’s out of this world. But it is all that & more on a snowboard! Guess what was strapped to my feet?
At the top of the mountain there was a whiteout. The snow was flying in every direction. We made our way over to the steep runs on the far side. Jen was a little nervous about riding blacks, but after two easy turns in the powdery white stuff, those fears disappeared.
Aspen Highlands was strangely deserted for such a great snow day. We had huge long snowy fresh untracked runs to share with only a handful of other boarders. Everyone was screaming! Yahoo! Wo-whew! The yells of the excited were coming from every direction, and even from Jen.
When I caught up to her she was covered in snow. She had gone down a few times, as had I. But between wool and caked snow, was one of the biggest smiles I’d ever seen on her. She was having a blast!
We boarded through fresh knee deep snow that whole run. When we got to bottom, I knew we had gone down some steeps, but the deeps always made the hard runs must easier to ski. What I didn’t know was that parts of that run we had just completed were considered double black diamonds. I thought I’d better not tell Jen just yet.
We glided down a few more runs. They took forever. The snow was holding up great, few people were tracking through it, and more was falling every second.
There was no lunch. There was not warm up break. There was no stopping on a powder day. We just kept snowboarding until our legs burned. On our last run, we talked to a lift op who told us they had just opened up another bowl only moments ago. If we loaded his chair now and kept left, we’d still find some fresheys.
Ok, one more time.
Yellow caution ropes ran along the top of the ridge that marked the entrance to the run. A sign that read "experts only, hazardous conditions" marked the entrance. I was used to seeing these signs, translation, "Kick ass run ahead!"
Jen was a little more concerned. Yet, she was having the best day of her life. She was turning and riding out of her mind. The best I’d ever seen her do. And only one day after she skied great! She read the sign in stride and dropped into the run with me.
There were only a couple other people that knew about the bowl and I heard their yells of excitement from below. Another girl told us halfway down that this was the most extreme run on the mountain. (BTW - this wasn’t easy Buttermilk Mountain, this was the Highlands!) Jen’s confidence soared even more.
We made it to the bottom of the steeps and still had several miles of cat tracks to get out. We spent the next hour pushing and walking back to the run to the base. The bowl had been the steepest hill Jen had ever been on. The walk out was exhausting, but well worth the price.
Finally at the parking lot, we unclipped our feet from our boards for the first time all day. Our day was over but the confidence and memories were only just beginning. Jen gave me a high five. She told me she thoroughly enjoyed the day and couldn’t wait to do it again. Finally she was realizing the joy of the sport I had loved my whole life. And now, so did she. We grew much closer as that day.
She thanked me for teaching her how to snowboard that first time in Tahoe. Our first real date. And for purposing to her a year later in Tahoe after another day of boarding. For being a good teacher, a patient person, and a loving man.
The last run in Colorado Jen wasn’t snowboarding for me. She wasn’t doing a sport that I loved because she love me. She was snowboarding for herself. She hugged me as she spoke. I was so happy I almost cried.
Breckenridge Brewing Co. – final entry 12.21.98
Battling the still raging blizzard, we dove out of Aspen Valley Sunday night. Once we made the turn toward Vail I thought the snow would lighten up. But it didn’t. It took us four hours to move the 100 miles to Breckenridge. We finally pulled through Frisco in end of the snowstorm to meet Jeff and his friends for dinner.
We swilled a couple beers to relax my muscles from all that tense driving. We ate a big meal and kicked back talking for awhile. We were thinking about staying the night up in Summit County, but Jen had to work the next day. She was almost done. Only two days left in Colorado. We knew the temperature was already way below freezing along the Front Range and in Denver, but we decided to head down anyway.
We spent the last day & half in Denver in freezing temperatures under a blanket of snow. But we didn’t mind. We had enjoyed our months in the Rocky Mountain State with no regrets.
We packed up the last day and a half and then drove to California for Christmas.
Our Colorado life was over.
At least for now.