Another Slice of our Pie...Eaten

The last few days I've spent with the dogs in and around the doghouse as Miki attended her conference.  On the first day I was a bit worried I would go stir crazy without a car, but I found much to do.  

The first morning was spent setting up the TV (priorities!).  Every time we pull into a new RV park or campground, the televisions have to do their "channel search", which will pick up any stations that are available.  With any luck, there are some!  Here in the Longmont area, the search came up with numerous choices.  Since they are new to us, rather than flip through each one every time, I made a list of the channels.  Once that was done, since I had the time, I went through the list and deleted the plethora of spanish speaking and religious channels.  By the way, if you are bored, which I am not saying I was, but trying to watch a television show in a foreign language and trying to figure out what is going on is interesting fun.

I have never considered myself a fisherman, even though I have fun trying.  Since our gated accommodations came with waterfront property, I was drawn to try my luck with fishing for fish other than a trout (bass in this case).  The surface of the water seems active all the time.  What I didn't take the time to realize, was that those ripples that dotted each pond can be made from any size fish.  I quickly found out that most of them were created by hungry little ones.  I found that with each cast there was great interest in my fly, as it was nudged with interest and sometimes taken under by a zealous minnow.  As much as those little babies wanted to get that fly in their mouth, it was just too big.  You could see the water swirl around my line where the fly was attached and you could see their attempts to latch on to the smaller parts of the fly...the legs, the antennae, they wanted it bad. It must be kind of like going to get a Dairy Queen Blizzard and getting there 2 minutes after the "Closed" sign goes up, making it just out of reach.  (It has been a few days since Miki has wanted one.)

Other than getting outside, there is always cleaning and eating at hand inside and believe it or not, the time went by relatively quickly.  Oh, and of course there is always the computer to eat up some time.

Soon we'll be home, but we're not there yet.  660 miles will get us there.  Out of approximately 2300 miles we've experienced with this piece of our pie, both the miles on and off the road have been memorable.  It's been exciting, frustrating, fun, emotional...a whole spectrum of adjectives have followed us on this month long trip and we are happy you chose to come along with us.  Let us get the doghouse back in shape, get inspiration for the next slice of pie, and we'll invite you out again.  Peace Out!



My Zen from the Road:  Tips I picked up from the boys (dogs) these last few days...  Rest when you can, be ready for anything, pay attention to all of your senses, and every scent you pick up is special for a reason.

New Scenery, New Wildlife

Who says advertising doesn't work? (not advertisers)  It worked on us.  On a local channel we had viewed this restaurant numerous times, so what did we do on our last morning...we ate there!

Miki took this shadow of a man to breakfast!
(lower left corner!...me taking pic...get it?)

Moving day was yesterday (Wednesday, September 25) from Dillon to Longmont, CO.  We only had a few hours of travel time, so we were in no rush to break camp.  After eating breakfast, hitting the city recycling yard, and one last visit to Safeway, we packed it up.

Miki captured this aspen leaf on her last dog walk.

Going up into the mountains is not a big deal.  The truck does a very good job of pulling us and the doghouse up to wherever we have tried to go.  It's the DOWN that gets me.  As well as the truck pulls up, gravity pulls down!  I use to wonder what the big deal was about the big semi trucks and the big yellow warning signs about Steep Grade Ahead...Use Lower Gear...blah, blah, blah.  This is the third time coming down out of the mountains in Colorado into Denver.  It is not so much scary as stressful.  Yes, we have brakes, but I would not want to be going too fast and trying to stop...I will leave it at that.  Excuse me while I need to go change my pants, having just thought about it again...stress does funny things to people.

Our reservation for the next 4 nights is at St. Vrain State Park, on the east side of Longmont, practically sitting on I-25.  A relatively new gated community, about 25 minutes from Miki's conference.

The gate house and walking trail at St. Vrain State Park.

We are at the tip of the arrow.

The park, besides being a campground, is a wild bird sanctuary.  So far all I have seen are geese.  These are not the geese from behind our house in the park geese that will eat popcorn out of your hand geese.  These are more of the wild variety.  After observing them this morning, I saw some behaviors I should have shielded my eyes from, that our nice geese back home don't display in public.  No pictures here.  You're welcome.

Besides the steady drone of I-25, where the speed limit is 75 m.p.h., the campground is very peaceful looking and has trails for observing the many ponds in the park.  We woke up to dense fog that quickly burned off after last nights passing thunderstorms and after breakfast we went exploring.

There is a pond we overlook there somewhere.

The dogs took me around the pond for this photo.  Haven't seen the foothills yet.

Interruption... I just saw this lady walk by with her dog, she looks like the woman Hallmark used for the model of Maxine.  This might be autograph worthy.

Maxine is camping next door!

Back to regularly scheduled blog...

Miki packed up her day pack for her first day at the conference and headed out.  Me and the dogs are hanging out together today.  She has a long day, ending around 9 tonight, so she has the truck and I hope some No Doz.

Besides the geese, the ants are pretty impressive residents here.  The little ones create little architectural structures, while the bigger red ones (that scare me) seem to show signs of past work experience of working at a quarry, just piling stuff wherever.

Seems as though they place each grain of sand to code.

These little red devils appear to simply excavate and pile where convenient.

That is it for now, as I watch my neighbors pack up and head out (do they know something I don't?).  The geese seemed to have made themselves scarce, so it might be safe to go back out and see what other wild life wildlife abounds here at St. Vrain State Park (and Gentleman's Club).


My Zen from the Road:  Don't judge animals by their behavior.  If those animals are people, then judge away.


Bonus... Received an equally creative thank you from Grace's sister, Callie (see previous posting).  I would like to also share my equally creative response.

A college care package "Thank you."  Love it!

It is hard responding to a photo with a photo, but I am up to it.

Okay, this is the next contest.  What am I doing? (in the photo)
1st Prize... Knowing we are on the same wavelength!
2nd Prize... Your own ASL How-To textbook.

Another Chance

I went for a bike ride today and during that ride I thought about the title to yesterday's blog posting..."Last Chance".  

The forecast was to be rainy today and it got there, but was a dry, cool beautiful start to our last full day here at Heaton Bay campground.  All of a sudden we could do some outdoor things we did not think would be possible.  Our window of opportunity was mostly the morning to early afternoon before the rain would come.  I hit the bike path and Miki reached for her sketch pad.

At 45 degrees, it was a bit chilly, but not much wind.  Dressed in layers, it was nice to ride one more time.  As I started my ride, I did question my timing.  Would it not be more comfortable to let it warm up a bit?  I second guess myself a fair amount, but I was ready to ride.  I created my own wind chill as I rode to keep the heat I was generating fairly balanced.  I didn't cross paths with another cyclist until I got back to town on the other side of Swan Mountain.  It was a perfect ride.  I was alone, enjoying the aspen, the quiet, overlooking the lake, and the ride.  Even working hard, going up the mountain (really big hill) felt good.

At the top of Swan Mountain, the bike path connects to the road, so you share the ride down with motorists in their vehicles, thank goodness it is not a busy road (or at least when I've been on it).  After spending a good 30 minutes on a steady climb in a low gear, the 3 minute coast down was refreshing (along with the wind chill at 35 m.p.h.).  With the hard part out of the way, you wind your way back to town (Frisco) through trees of color and eventually back to the lake, that takes me home.

On Swan Mountain, looking back towards the doghouse.

These two trees made me stop and get off my bike.
The photo does not do them justice, they were on FIRE!

The bike path as I head back to town.  Unbefreakinlievable!

Once back into town, I crossed paths with a dozen plus other cyclists, each on a mission.  I usually try to wave and say hi to oncoming bikers, but today I'm not sure any of them returned the hospitality.  I wasn't dreaming this ride and I did see my reflection in some windows, so I know I was there.  After a while it started bumming me out.  Why are they so serious?  By this time the temperature had warmed a bit, the trees were awesome, and it wasn't raining.  I kept my greetings flowing.

By this time, the rain could be seen off in the distant mountains, but looked fairly mild and in no rush to chase me inside, so off I went to wet a line.  I got 4-5 good bites, but no takers.  I kept my eye on the approaching showers, just daring them to soak me.  Every time I was ready to call it quits, I would get a strike.  That was good for another 30 minutes of pushing my meteorological prediction skills.  Finally, I saw the drops hitting the surface of the water before i could feel them on my jacket.  They were not your regular raindrops.  It was as if raindrops had babies, that is what was coming down from the sky.  Very light, delicate droplets.  It was apparent that the fish went in to get out of the rain, so did I.

Later, we drove up to Copper Mountain to get our discount lift tickets for this winter.  The lonely gentleman that helped us was from Traverse City, MI.  Having been there last summer, we were able to carry on a fairly coherent conversation with him while he took care of our needs.  He had obviously had some birth defects.  His fingers and general features were not "normal."  He was very nice, took care of us, and were happy to have his help today.  It was his first time away from home in this capacity and seemed to be enjoying the change.

We hit the movies late afternoon for "Trouble With The Curve," with Clint Eastwood (really good).  A nice way to end our stint here in Summit County.

So, back to my "Last Chance" theme from yesterday.  It occurred to me on my ride today that there aren't really "last chances," but just chances.  Today I got another chance to ride my bike and experience the excellent views from the trail, even though others tried to dampen my exuberance (I think I know what that word means!).  I got another chance to fish, but really it gave me the chance to watch the incredible sight of the impending rain showers move in over the mountains.  I had the chance to not be "turned off" by the lift ticket guy and see he was just as normal as you and I, well maybe you anyway.  That reminds me...I met up with my toothless friend from the other day as I was walking out to fish and he was coming back from gathering wood, carrying it in his backpack.  From our short conversation, it appears he is homeless and seems to be on an endless journey at this point.  His next stop was to be Lake Mead.  Clint's movie too, was in a way about taking chances.

No more last chances here, we'll be back for another chance at the things we like to do in Summit County.


My Zen from the Road:  Not to be philosophical (I think) or anything, but no more last chances, just chances.  Last seems so final!

Bonus...Miki's twin nieces are back in school for their second year at Clemson and we happened to send them a little welcome back package last week.  Here, Grace sends her thanks and we send our reply.

Little animal socks from the Tetons, amongst the junk food care package.

Our cleverly inspired photo reply.  Notice the orange Clemson hat!

Last Chance

So the joke starts...A guy walks into a bar and says that he just saw 3 dogs driving an SUV..., well I am that guy, not in a bar, but on Main Street in Frisco and this really wasn't a joke.  These 4 dogs were in this vehicle and every time we came out of the laundromat they were in different positions.  This time it looked like they were tired of waiting for their daddy and were taking off without him.

"Where's the poker game?"

Today was a day of last chances before we pull up stakes and head to Denver on Wednesday.  I saw a commercial on the local TV channel for "The lost Cajun."  It is not a person, but a restaurant in Frisco and something on the menu with the name gumbo or etouffee sounded good for lunch.  We split an order of red beans and rice, along with crayfish etouffee...both really good, followed by a beignet chaser.  We had it all but the Mardi Gras beads.

We let our cajun food babies rest while we drove towards Boreas Pass to see more fall colors.  Last year we drove the road to the pass and saw incredible aspen at their peak.  This time it was a bit past their prime, but there were some exceptions.

At this vantage point above Breckenridge we looked over at the ski resort and the area we hiked to yesterday, which was freshly dusted with a couple of inches of snow.

The hike yesterday took us to the valley to the left of the ski runs.

The alpine lake we hiked to is just below center and to the right, behind
the foreground ridge.

With our tummies full and our eyes full, it was time to go to the dogs!  We went for a short hike above Dillon Lake.  The dogs had their bellies full and now their eyes were full too.

The campground is just right of center.

With rain moving in for tomorrow, it was our last chance to do a little me time.  Miki spent some time sketching and I did something fishy (ha!).  I caught two little rainbows which kept me there until dusk.  I could barely make out my fly (not my zipper) floating in the sky's reflection on the water when I heard some noises in the nearby woods.  Since I was surrounded by coyote tracks, the noise was enough to send me packing.  

Finally, our last chance for a fire.  Miki likes her campfires and a few days earlier, another site was vacated and they left their unused firewood.  I am not above recycling what others discarded, so pilfering I went.  So now the question was what kind of fire would the weather permit.

Faux fire?

Real fire?

REAL FIRE!

Last chance?  Not really, cause we will be back, probably in this same campsite.  Hopefully the lake will be a little higher, the leaves will be spec-tac-u-lar again, and I'll fish Crystal Lake with a whole fly rod.  If for some reason we don't return, as Miki would say, everything was perfect this time.



My Zen from the Road:  Nothing takes the place of the real thing.  A campfire, fishing an alpine lake with half a fly rod, or seeing three dogs ready to drive away...they were all real to me.

NIL DESPERANDVM (nothing is to be despaired of)

Today was a hike day with the goal (my goal) of fishing a new alpine lake.  Crystal Lakes, comes with an upper and lower lake.  The upper was an additional two miles one way and wasn't really in plan A (B or C...).  The lakes sit below Mt. Crystal, which rises to 13,852 ft.  

With the weather looking sketchy for the next several days for precipitation, today was our best shot at a good hike.  We packed up our day packs, Miki with our food and me with my fishing gear (priorities you know).  Our trail is just south of Breckenridge, so we arrived at our turnoff within 30 minutes from our campground.  Spruce Creek Rd. turned us into a subdivision of sorts, if you can call a bunch of houses (very nice mountain getaway homes) scattered throughout the forest, a subdivision.  Our road now transitioned from asphalt to groomed gravel.  After the last home on the smooth like road, the road transitions to crap.  I guess you would call this a somewhat maintained borderline 4-wheel drive road.  Most any car would be fine to the trail head.  The road does not stop at the first trailhead, this is Colorado, where ground clearance ranks up there with engine size in the midwest.  If you choose to continue on, you find the road deteriorates further (crap+) in smoothness and steepness.  Of course we continued on...we have a Chevy 4x4 diesel!  The only problem with this picture, is our truck's suspension is so stiff (to handle the 5th wheel) that every bump is magnified.  So up the trail we crept, occasionally letting other 4x4s pass us with normal cushy suspension.  We were only going slightly faster than someone walking beside us, but we reached our parking area in good shape and all four tires still inflated.

The joy of taking the truck that extra distance was a difference of additional miles to our trail.  We were now down to a little over 2 miles.  We grabbed our packs and headed up.  We had a choice...a trail or FWD (4 wheel drive) road.  Both got you to the same place, but not sure where the trail was.  The road was more obvious.  Up the road we went.  It was pretty cool in temperature and we were layered up for the day.  Not far up the trail we started peeling off the first layer...the road had a pretty good incline (thus the FWD).  About an hour after we left the truck, we arrived at the lake.  It was a welcome sight because the wind had picked up a bit.

As far as we could tell, we had the lake to ourselves.  There is just something special about a body of water in the shadow of a mountain peak.  The colors, being above tree line, the remoteness...pretty special.  

Down to business.  Miki found a good place to get prone while I strung up a new fly rod I had to have, just for such an occasion (hiking).  I chose what looked like a delicious fly from my case and before I knew it, I was casting for trout that I hadn't met yet.  They were cruising the shore and were what I thought were pretty good size for an alpine lake.  My experience in the next mountain valley over, the Mohawk Lakes, only gave up smaller sized cutthroats, but some of these were easily 15" or so.  I was jazzed.  If Tooga were me, he'd be drooling.

I quickly tried a number of different flies, trying to decipher their appetite.  They spared no time in meeting my flies, but turned their noses up and cruised away.  As I was casting, there was only low willowy brush about waist high to stay clear of and was very manageable. I had just changed flies and was casting out to where there was some surface action, when I noticed the last foot and a half of my NEW rod was missing from the rest of it and was floating out in the water.  Let me put this another way.  I had somehow just broken the only fly rod with me within the first 15 minutes of arriving at nirvana.  I collected the tangled mess and assessed my situation.

Pre-catastrophe, I knew they wanted me.

Fishing poles (rods) work because they flip the lure due to their flexibility or whippiness.  I lost most of my whippiness when the last foot and a half of my rod decided to break (still not sure how).  Since I figured I still had a good few hours to fish, I was going to fish, even if it meant that I hiked back down to tree line and found a suitable branch from a tree and did it Huck Finn style.  I removed the broken piece and pretended it never happened.  I am sure my elbow and rotator cuff will never be the same, but as if I were Bear Grylls, I found a way to keep going.  My learning curve with my new rod was pretty intense, but I was able to cast out far enough to tease the fish into thinking I was still a fisherman.

Post-catastrophe, I was hoping they weren't laughing at me.

I only brought a small selection of flies to keep the weight and bulk down for the hike.  I had worked through most of them and almost 3 hours had passed without accomplishing my goal to catch at least one fish.  I stopped to eat lunch, rest, and regroup for a few minutes, then back at it.  The water was very clear and was easy to see them as they saw me.  I was about ready to call it quits when I made a Hail Mary cast.  No sooner than the fly hit the water, it was gone.  I had to shake the moment of disbelief to raise what was left of my rod to set the hook, so as to not lose this wayward fish that found its way onto my fly.  I would chalk this miraculous event up to my skill and adeptness at this sport, but I taught long enough to know that in a classroom of students, abilities vary...are you getting my drift?  I figured that I found the one fish in the lake that rode a different length bus than most of the other fish and I don't mean that in a derogatory sense.  

One little fish, one big goal.

It was AWESOME!  It fought, I laughed in amazement.  I really had put the day's attempts to rest and was ready to pack it in, when this magnificent cutthroat trout had a weak moment and made my day.  With half a rod and my last fly, goal accomplished.  It sure beat sending Miki in to catch them with her bare hands.

One happy fisherman, and one dry Miki.

I floated down the trail to the truck and we rock and rolled (literally) down the rough road we arrived on, back to pavement that took us home.

Back down the way we came, memories in mind.

My Zend from the Road (trail):  NIL DESPERANDVM (nothing is to be despaired of)... ...Never say die.

Blending In With The Locals

Miki gets up around 7-7:30 (I know, can you believe she is sleeping in like that?) and walks the dogs.  I roll out of bed, maybe around 8ish and we do breakfast.  Then..."What do you wanna do today? ...  I don't know, what do you wanna do?" ... and the day unfolds from that.  

Today, I rode around Dillon Lake on one of the many paved bike paths around the area.  It is relatively flat around the lake until you get to Swan Mountain, the opposite side of the lake from where we are.  From there it takes about 30 minutes for me to get to the top, through the help of switch backs and gentle inclines through wooded and open areas.  From the top down, you join the regular road, which takes you 3 minutes to coast down.  Overall it is about an hour and a half ride to circle the lake and back to the campground and adds up to about 19 miles.  I do okay until I have to breath hard and my lungs search for oxygen that apparently isn't there.  I thought I was doing pretty well until I was passed by a young woman on what appeared to be a one-speed bike.  I caught her at the top, where we both took a break, but I beat her down the other side (more mass was on my side!).  From our window we can see the bike trail as it asses the campground.  There were a crazy number of people out riding today.  A fair amount of bike rentals...you could tell by the difference in speed.

We ran errands in the middle of the day.  You would think that being on vacation (as extended as it may be) errands would not overshadow activities like hiking and fishing, but they do.  Especially when Miki suggested hitting DQ again for their BOGO on Blizzards...yes, I said MIKI.  It kind of went like this... Staples...DQ (too busy, very slow with two people running the place)...Target... WalMart... Safeway... DQ (busier than before)... post office... home.  We like our BOGO Blizzards, but not that much, I am sure she will suggest it another day.

Crashed late afternoon until dinner.  Afterwards we headed over to the Frisco Marina for a summer send off celebration of sorts.  They did not get to shoot off their city fireworks this summer due to high fire danger, so they put it off until now.  A blues/jazz band played for a couple of hours before the fireworks.  They played earlier in the summer here and were invited back for this occasion.  They were good, but it was like each song bled into the next and you didn't even need to change the speed of your head bob to go with the beat...they all sounded very similar.  It helped pass the time and we people watched until dark, while sipping on hot chocolate (me) and cafe mocha (Miki).  We were surrounded by dogs, a cowboy, a breast feeding momma, dogs, badly dressed women, crazed kids, dogs, a woman that sat in dog poo, and kids wondering why they were there.

Old school bikes seemed to be the thing, we saw many.

Bad fashion sense was overflowing according to me and
thank goodness, otherwise I would have fallen asleep.

The early crowd, but they kept coming and easily filled the park by the marina.

The younger crowd came prepared for the long haul.

One of many big dogs.  This one was better behaved than his owner.

Dog in stroller, not sure where the baby ended up.

Almost more interesting than the people watching was the pet watching.
And how bad the owners were at controlling their dogs.  There were dozens
and dozens of dogs with many, many bad owners.

Coors was abundant.

The band we could see.  A large speaker blocked out whatever else was there.

The finale!

Good day.



My Zen from the Road:  People watching is fun and it is easy to pick targets out to entertain yourself.  More importantly it makes me appreciate me for me and Miki for Miki, if you know what I mean and I think you do.

It's hard being perfect!

A Diverse Day Indeed

The Dillon Farmer's Market.  A mix of food, homemade products, and odd things to buy.  A good people watching place we started enjoying a few years ago on a previous trip.  We've had some excellent Colorado peaches and some tasty smoked wild salmon from Alaska.  We were in search of those items once again.  Along the way, Miki found a pretty blue scarf that found it's way back to camp with us.  We did find the smoked salmon.  It was just as good as I remembered, as I found out for dinner, but the peaches were a disappointment.  We'll try again on the peaches, because last year they were that good!  Miki passed on the organic skin care products, the guy was a hard sell.  The goat cheese booth was a hit and also became part of Miki's dinner...the two words, goat and cheese, don't go with one another to me, so why would I put either one in my mouth.  We could have purchased a down pillow, roasted jalapeno peppers (right!), or homemade horseradish sauce...this time a compound word made of two words that don't belong together either.  A guitar and bass player were providing some background tunes in the vein of James Taylor and the people just kept coming.

Selling summer's bounty.

This afternoon, the dogs said enough of being stuck in the trailer while we go out and do stuff without them, so they demanded a walk.  Not just a walk around the campground, but a dog hike.  Miki picked a good, local trail to try we had not done previously called Peak Trail.  It began rather auspiciously, due to the fact we were supposed to drive on one of the many paved bicycle trails to get to our trailhead.  She had copied the directions and we were in the right place, but it just seemed wrong to turn onto a "bike path," when there is so much emphasis to watch out and yield to cyclists.  After turing onto the path and backing up, thinking this is not right, a minimum of 3 times, we finally saw another vehicle coming at us on the trail.  Either we were both wrong or both right...we got to the trailhead.  It was a great day and the dogs were thrilled to be out in it.  The trail followed a small stream they could have jumped over in many places and they stopped for numerous drinks.  Tooga found a number of pools to lay in to cool off his belly while Tuck saw every squirrel and chipmunk as part of a shish kabob for him.  Two hours later, we made it back to the truck with some tired pups.

Uphill

Downhill

Finally, I met a guy today with not very many teeth.  It was after dinner and I wanted to try a different technique called nymphing with my fly rod.  It was suggested by my brotha from anotha motha.  I was on my way to the lake, about a 5 minute walk through the campground and across some dried up lake bed, when I saw a guy with a fishing pole and small backpack walking towards me on the edge of the campground, I assumed he was on the way back to his campsite.  We passed while acknowledging each other and then I heard behind me, something about  a fishing pole and I turned around.  He had not noticed my fly rod initially as he approached, but then spoke up to talk a little shop as he was just coming back from the lake.  He looked like he had been out fishing a good part of the day with his spinning reel and rod.  He asked where I was headed and it was all I could do to pay attention to our conversation while noticing he was missing a good 4-6 teeth in the front left portion of his smile.  I was amazed he was as easy to understand as he was, so he must have lost them long enough ago to compensate for their loss.  I think I was caught up in the stereotype of this guy and just wanted to get to fishin'.  I nodded politely to most of his advice as to where he was catching the big ones and the fact he was Angler Of The Year somewhere not disclosed.  He spoke of the color he chose for his lure and suggested I do the same, cause they jump on it.  When he started repeating some of his advice and locations to try, I figured it was time to go.  I started backing away and  thanked him for what he had shared with me.  We were just two fisherman crossing paths, but I had a problem with it.

The days are warm and the nights are cool (chilly!) and evidently they are that way back home too.  So, why are we out here?  Cause we can!

My Zen from the Road:  After my Angler Of The Year encounter this evening, I started thinking of how I would have done things differently.  Spent more time, asked a few questions, or stared a little less at where teeth use to be.  I think next time I'm in a situation or I meet a character that seems safe enough, yet out there a bit from my perspective, I will not be in as much of a rush to distance myself from it or them.  I wonder what I missed out on.

Fore!

Before we get to Fore!, we rode our bikes to the store to get a few items this morning.  At a little under 2 miles, we picked up the trail right by the campground and headed in.  The bike trails out here are as busy as the side streets back home. More for exercise than mobility it appears, but people on bikes just the same.  We are not talking about adding a little extra asphalt to the shoulder, painting a line on it, and labeling it a bike lane...Blue Springs.  This is a separate "road" of the good asphalt stuff.  It is wide enough for bikes to pass one another in opposite directions and they have their own road signs...like a smaller version of the real thing, what a novel idea.  The day we drove to Denver to get our new water pump, we saw construction and maintenance being done on bike paths in many places.  I feel bad right now not being on my bike, their paths are so darn nice.  (Actually my eyes are starting to water because Miki just cut up some onions.  That activity doesn't belong in the confines of a trailer.  I feel like I have been at a demonstration and was tear gassed.)  Anyway, between bicycles and the free bus transportation around here, you could get away without a car.  Not me, but just saying.

Miki heading home from the grocery store with some of the goods.

FORE!  That's right, I hit a local course today and it felt good.  Didn't necessarily look good, the golfer's ability I mean, but the scenery and surrounding homes...awesome.  The Raven Golf Club in Silverthorne was the only course available for the amount of money I was willing to let go of.  I actually played this course a long time ago when it first opened under a different name...don't remember it, but probably enjoyed just as much.  The two things that stood out on this course, had nothing to do with the golf at all.  The fall colors and the homes surrounding the course.  In case I haven't mentioned the fall colors here in the mountains, it is fantabulous.  The houses, and when I say houses I mean logmansions, range from large-ish to arrogantly Lincoln Log-ish.  I just don't understand the kind of money it takes to have a second home on this spectrum, it hurts my brain.  Loved playing among them, but just... don't...get it!  So I will leave it at that.

FORE!  Actually it was a pretty good shot, just a little long.

Yes, I am aimed into the trees, cause this was posed for the camera.

Fantabulous fall foliage!

Some people enjoy a good cigar, others a fine wine, me... a nice hole.

Big day tomorrow.  The weekly farmer's market (AM) and the dogs go for a hike (PM).  Miki will buy stuff that makes me crazy and the dogs will recall instinctive behaviors that we have worked hard to stifle.  I think I will take some onions to chop just in case things go badly.  Hope this finds you healthy, happy, and safe.


My Zen from the Road:  Actually from the bike path.  Most of the other cyclists we have encountered are very friendly.  Waving, saying hi, passing with care...unlike driving our cars.  Is it because we all have on the same unattractive bike helmets on to protect us, making it a more level playing field, like wearing uniforms in school.  Whether you have spandex on or jeans tucked into your socks, those of us that ride bicycles seem to be a little more civil to one another.  When driving your car, act like you are riding your bike.  Wave a little more and put a little more care into your driving routine.  If you don't ride a bicycle, go sit somewhere where they do and watch them, you'll see what I mean.  Roll on!

Bonus picture of me golfing...FORE!