And that's a wrap!

House sit Number 7 is in the books!  Thank you Colorado for being such an awesome place.  But before we close the book on this one, here are a number of things we did and saw that you don't know about...be jealous!

A hike to McCullough Gulch, just south of Breckenridge, was a moderate hike and then you add in the snow that has not melted yet factor and you get more than your money's worth! (A gulch is a deep V-shaped valley formed by erosion. It may contain a small stream or dry creek bed and is usually larger in size than a gully...I didn't know what one was exactly)  It was a great hike with a great destination, with a little wildlife smattered about that made it worth every shoe full of snow.  2.7 miles up and in, produced a great alpine lake to view, surrounded by walls of granite.

Beth maneuvers a log bridge with technical ease!

We kept getting advice from hikers coming
back down, to stay close to the rock when
there is snow, to avoid "post holing"...
sinking up to your knee in snow.  Didn't help,
I post holed plenty.

White Falls, full of spring snowmelt.

This Ptarmigan was hard to find with his coloring, if you took your eye off of it.

The reward!  A beautiful lake and a hug!

Sometimes excitement comes from nowhere!

So after a long hike, what do you do...celebrate with cheese and "ritas."

Local restaurant, celebrating their 30th B-Day.
So we helped!

One Day, Beth and I drove over to Leadville to ride our bikes on a trail I had read about.  It is a paved trail, like the Summit County rec. path, but it went up into the mining area of Leadville and had signage to educate tourists on its mining history.  Very nice trail and informative as well.  Highly recommend it.  If you do it, ride clock-wise...a little easier!

Bike trail in Leadville trailhead.

Slight uphill grade for 5 and a half miles, then down about 7!  I loved the down.

Each day usually began with me walking up the street to retrieve the local newspaper, the Summit Daily News.  Besides the local news, it has all the activities in the area and a must read for tourists or wannabe locals!  One day I saw in the paper they were advertising for people to send in photos of local events and activities they participated in.  So I started sending in photos of stuff we did or saw.  Our neighbors (and couple we sat for in February) are photographers and saw they sent in interesting shots, so we sent in a few of our own.    We first made the paper through someone else's lens.  It was a picture of us and Beth's aunt and uncle, who spend a couple of months each year in Frisco.  We were strolling through the 1st Farmer's Market of the season in Dillon.  It was taken by a woman that approached us and said she was with the newspaper and asked permission to take our photo.  A few days later it shows up in the Summit Daily.  Then the photo of the "rock man" I had in a previous post, I sent in and it got published.  What better way to be a local than to participate in their newspaper.  I'm afraid that if I lived their, they would get tired of my endless stream of photos filling their "Inbox."

My daily morning read.

Beth's aunt and uncle and us at the farmer's market.

My credit listed under the picture in the corner says I'm special!

The Dillon Amphitheater hosts summer outdoor concerts on Friday and Saturday nights all summer.  Such a picturesque setting, truly unique.

A tribute band for the Allman Brothers Band heats up the cool mountain air.

One hike Beth and I went on revealed some small Brook Trout clustering up in a small feeder stream.  I got one there, but a hike Greg and I went on did not give us even a look, but the surroundings made up for us striking out.

Up North Ten Mile Creek trail, I found some friends in a feeder stream,
but not very friendly..  So close but yet, so far...from my fly!  No Takers...

...except this one that did not get the memo!

Greg and I hiked around Lower Cataract Lake
as part of a fly fishing trial by fire attempt to let
Greg experience fly fishing.  We were great at
the fishing, just not the catching.  Didn't even see
one cruising the shore.  We did happen to see a
few doing flips out of the water in the middle
of the lake though.  The white area (top middle
left of center) is Cataract Falls.

Cataract Falls.

Along the trail around the lake...swarms of
some kind of bug made breathing a challenge
...look a little closer...

I kept hearing Greg spitting behind me as
we walked.  I chose not to breathe while
walking through these living clouds.

Once again, the surrounding beauty makes up for things like no fish and
and abundance of bugs!

The tutor indulges in a selfie, with the tutee wetting his line in the background.

And the evening sky always shows up with a surprise, here are a few...

On one evening walk (out of many) the sky puts on a color show.

As the sun sets, a full moon rises.

Besides the mountain goat on the bike trail, we were visited by a fox beside the deck of some friends while eating breakfast...

Yes, that close!

Lastly, Beth and I have been looking for just the right wood to finish off our room at home with a murphy bed in it.  At a Home Depot in Golden, CO, we found they carried the "beetle kill" pine or "blue stain" pine that is the result of a certain kind of beetle that is responsible for killing a bazillion pines in the Rockies and now is affecting the west coast as well.  One result of the beetles and their dirty work is the grayish blue tint to the wood they cause that sets it a part from regular pine.  You can't get it at just any Home Depot because it is locally sourced.  After securing our prized pine, we loaded it in the car for its special delivery ride home.

25 beautiful 1x6x10, tongue and groove pieces
of blue stain pine, headed to Missouri.  Each
individually hand picked and lovingly placed on
the cart to go.

It just fits!  Now, where is Beth going to sit?

As we end this visit, we thank our friends, both new and old, for another great Rocky Mountain experience.  

My Zen from the Road:  After my finger drilling learning experience, I had my last doctors visit after returning home.  In a little over a months time, my finger had repaired itself to a better than I had anticipated result.  There is even some fingerprint replaced on the damaged area.  The doc was pleased, as was I.  I always knew we are incredible beings, capable of incredible things, and even as small as this injury was compared with larger catastrophic ones that result in even more unbelievable recoveries, its a reminder I will always have and will help hold things in perspective for me, as I try to make decisions that will not land me in such a painful learning situation again.  It's best to learn from your mistakes, not to reproduce them and see if there is a different outcome!  I love my new finger!

May 19th...

June 30!

Careful who you ride with…

Some friends of ours from Blue Springs, Greg and Susi, share the same playground here in Colorado as us.  Beth and I have been here a few weeks doing our housesit gig and have been socializing a bit with the better half of that duo, when Greg makes his way here for the summer.  He had travel commitments elsewhere, but is now well into acclimating to the altitude.  This is the same Greg from a series of postings beginning with the title of “On The Road Again,” from last year (but since I’ve consolidated my two blogs, it is under June of 2016…for what it’s worth).  Anyhoo…

A few days after he and Susi wrapped up a fireplace facelift at their condo, with friends from Iowa, he and I decide to ride together.  I’d been riding a little bit since being here in Colorado, but Greg has been absent from his saddle for about a month or so.  I love the rec. path around Lake Dillon, all 18 miles of it, and we decided to start there.  Starting in Dillon, we ride towards Keystone and take the cutoff to head up and over Swan Mountain.  After arriving in Frisco, Greg suggests we take a dirt road leading away from the rec. path, up away from town.  I’m along for the ride and Greg has traveled many more miles in this area than I have and I want to see more of what the area has to offer my two wheels, so I follow.

Now when I say it is a dirt road, I don’t mean the midwestern version of primarily a road of dirt, I mean it has rock embedded in it of all sizes.  This is good, because I haven’t had a lot of “off road” experience here in the mountains or in the midwest.  We crank up about a ½ mile, while Greg looks for a trail that will take us back down to the rec. path he’d done before.  He finds one that looks like it may be it, so we turn our wheels in its direction, ride about 10-15 yards and we stop as the trail heads DOWN. 

Now I’ve known Greg for a long time and good decision-making has been iffy at best at times for him, but that was a long time ago.  So when he says this trail might not be the best one for me to cut my “single track” teeth on, I was good with that, especially after peering down the hill and internalizing his comment having something to do with losing my life on my first Colorado single track.  So we retraced our trail back down the “dirt road” to the smooth asphalt trail that would take us home.

Nineteen miles after we first rolled onto the lake rec. path, give or take, we stopped to part ways, where I would ride another 4ish miles home and he headed back to his place.  Before we parted ways, he said he’d like to ride again in another day or so.  We’d be in touch and make plans.

On the way back to where Beth and I were staying, I felt pretty good about the ride.  I’d only ridden 6-7 miles a few times previously to this ride.  My legs were good, lungs recovered relatively quickly, and I didn’t puke on or near Greg during our time on the trail.  So a big day…twenty-three or so miles total…all was good.

We met up a few days later for a second ride.  I liked what we did the first time.  So we retraced the rec. path from Dillon to Frisco again.  One small deviation this time, rather than putting more “dirt” experience under my belt, Greg suggested we ride a ways up Ten Mile Canyon.  I’d ridden down it, but not up it.

Ten Mile Canyon is a continuation of the paved rec. path system in the area.  If you’ve ever driven on I-70 from Frisco to Copper Mountain, it’s the trail that parallels the highway.  It is also up hill, or should I say up mountain, all the way to Copper, from Frisco.  Up is a relative thing.  For this path, it was a steady incline that kept you pedaling, but nothing steep, so we grinded away for 4 miles.  We stopped for a break, saw a mountain goat that saw as much entertainment in us as we did in him as he crossed the path.  He perched himself above the trail on an old rockslide and began to watch riders go by, many of which had no clue they were being watched.  We turned out bikes back downhill and headed back to Dillon.

Scruffy lookin' goat that let us enjoy his company, while he apparently
enjoyed ours.

We stopped once again before parting ways and again Greg suggested we ride again in a couple of days.  This time he said I was ready to tackle the ride to Vail Pass.  The same path we were on that was being guarded by our mountain goat acquaintance, but we would just keep going…UP!  I had the same reaction after we split as the day before.  Legs…check…lungs…check…no pukin’…check.  I thought, ”Let’s do this pass thing.”

Now if your experience in the mountains is minimal, a pass is a low point between two mountains, where you can “pass” over them with minimum altitude gain.  It’s not the highest point, but the highest passable point. 

I’m feeling pretty good about this new goal, because I don’t think Greg would suggest such a move without the confidence in my ability to do so…or maybe he just wanted to feel better about his own little biker self, as I struggle up the pass, sucking the little air I could find while he breaks wind in front of me.  Ooo, that didn’t sound good. 

A few days later, Beth drops me off in Frisco, where I meet up with Greg before heading for the Ten Mile Canyon rec. path and Vail Pass.  Now most tourists rent bikes in town, catch the 12-mile shuttle to the pass, and let gravity escort them back to the rental shop.  But what good is that?  No sucking air, no muscle fatigue…who would do that?  So up we go.

Greg leads the way, setting the pace past the 4 mile mark, where the goat was holding court the other day, and at the 7 mile mark we are already wheeling our way through Copper Mountain Ski Resort.  On the other side of the resort we pick up the path again with Vail Pass as our goal and the next stop.

Making our way through Copper Village.

Traffic on the bike path picks up as the day gets warmer and we still occasionally chitchat between huffs of air as the path now winds between the west and eastbound lanes of I-70.  For those in their vehicles passing by above, they may not even notice the paved bike lane below them, but on the trail it is easy to get lost in the sound of the stream beside you or wrapped up in the view before you, as the mountains help pull you up towards their peaks (figuratively speaking, damn it!).  With a few steeper than normal stretches of path added to the steady climb, we arrive at the pass.  A rest area for truckers, tourists, and gravity seeking bikers, complete with restroom facilities and a sign designating you are at Vail Pass, which yields photo proof that at least you were there, even though there is no proof of how you got there!  Besides having Greg capture my proof of having made it to Vail Pass, I celebrated with a burst of energy, thanking my bike for getting me to the top.

Made it!

We have a snack, some water, some talk of the trip up and then it happens… Greg says, “I think you are ready for Shrine Pass next time.”  I think I may have gagged between bites on a handful of peanut butter pretzel bites at that moment, but hid it well, as though it was the pretzel bite I was gagging on.  Shrine Pass was a mere 500 more feet in elevation gain that continued on a “dirt road” to the south of the rest stop at Vail Pass we were occupying.  Good thing I hadn’t just taken a giant swig off my water bottle!  But after a few seconds of perspective seeking, I realized it was a good thing.  Actually two good thing…Greg had the confidence in me I could make it and we were heading back to Missouri in 36 hours, so I could postpone the idea until my next visit to this playground.

So as we headed downhill for the next 12 miles, back to Frisco, I realized I needed to be careful who I ride with in the future, because in the words of Greg’s friend, Hal Russell, who is participating in the Tour Divide…again…”There’ll be more.”

Back in Dillon, Greg and I again parted ways at the usual spot and I headed back to Beth.  In my excitement of the day, I was hoping Beth would be willing to let Greg shuttle us back up to Vail Pass, so she could experience the ride down…so fun.  She was up for it and within a couple of hours of my return; we had the wind in our helmets and enjoying the scenic ride down.  From the bottom of the trail in Frisco, we logged another 8 miles, as we made our way to Greg's to pick up the car.  All in all I logged about 55 miles that day, with about half that being actual pedaling.  Besides some parts of me that were voicing their concern with my time in the saddle that day, it was a good day all around.  Best weather, best riding partners, and best place to ride.  Since I know this has motivated many of you out there to ride your bike, be careful whom you ride with!

Seems like I was just here...Oh, I was!
But this time with Beth

Cruise control!

Top of Vail Pass celebratory dance with my bike.

My Zen from the rec. path:  Spending some time on the bike trails around here, you see a lot.  Ages from those barely able to touch the ground to balance and ride a straight line, to those whose lines on their face's show every mile they've biked.  The types of wheels seen on the path from inline skating, roller skiing, and the many kinds of two-wheeled bikes make the wheels as varied as their riders.  It reminds me of a phrase I heard from a friend that rode a Harley, but before I got my first one (I was riding a Honda)..."It's not what you ride, it's that you ride."  Just be careful who you ride with!

All Mine…

You just never know.

So Greg and I had all but finished riding our bikes on the Rec Path around Lake Dillon, when we were taking a short water break and a couple comes towards us with three Cocker Spaniels, heading out for a hike.  Some pleasantries were exchanged and before I knew it, we were invited on a hike (the next day), sponsored by the Summit County Community and Senior Center.  The woman we were talking to, Charlotte, was leading the hike and had written a book on many of the mines in the area, including this one.  It was a silver/lead mine, that over looks Frisco and back in the day, was a big deal.  During our short visit, it was clear that Charlotte had lived here a long time and was very involved with the community. 

Feeling like we had just fallen into a great opportunity to get some local expertise and a hike that is off the beaten trail, Greg and I decided to join them the next day for the hike to Surprise Mine.  At this point, I am sure that one or two of you (if there are that many of you that read this), might be chuckling just a bit, because this is a hike for “seniors.”  Am I a SENIOR?

Noun   1.  an elderly or aged person, especially one who is retired.

According to this definition, I fit the later part of the description, but I’m not feeling the first half.  Oh well, with a little contemplation, I’ve let go of this blip on the radar and will take it up with myself at a later date.  Maybe when I’m more of a senior.  Don’t get me wrong, I have nothing against being included amongst the ranks of my senior friends, but its a bit of a gray area at what point one becomes a senior…62 years of age for social security?…55 for my golf league?  Not sure what it is here for the SCSC, but I’m sure they would have easily welcomed any age to hike with them.  Lets just say, I think I was the youngest senior on the hike, but their legs could tromp mine, all day long.

The men outnumbered the women by one on hike day, as we met up at the Meadow Creek Trailhead.  The mosquitoes were letting their presence be known, but soon the upness of the trail took my mind off of any annoyance they caused while we were still on level ground.  It was also a “dog-friendly” hike and we were accompanied by 5 (give or take a few).  All of which were very friendly and trail experienced.  On these dog friendly hikes, it was obvious the trip leader had them in mind, making sure there were plenty of water sources for them along the way.

It is as steep as it looks.

After a quick dip and a shake and the hike continues.

The difficulty of the trail was not easy.  More like killer semi strenuous.  But we took frequent breaks as needed, on the approximate 1400 ft elevation gain we would make during our 2-hour ascent.  We hiked for a while on the main Meadow Creek Trail before branching off onto what could be described as a game trail at times, at least for a while.  This trail, although known, is not well known; at least to the average tourist looking for a day hike.  The “game trail” gave way to the remains of the wagon road used during the mine's heyday.  The steepness made it hard to imagine a horse drawn wagon, most likely loaded down, attempting to go up to or down from the mine…in one piece.  

Charlotte points out a log structure (top-center), but not related to our mine.

The trail is littered with blow-down...
Beetle-kill trees that died and then
were blown down in heavy winds.

Soon, the trail is not much more than
tamped down vegetation.

Still as steep as it looks.

Maybe steeper than it looks!

Our first mine related stop, as we neared the Surprise Mine site, was a “boarding house” used to feed the miners.  A log structure, still recognizable as one, but having fallen in on itself, not to mention time and nature having its way with it.  A few relics were scattered around.  And you had to wonder, given the time and technology, or lack there of, how’d they do it?  And we hadn’t even gotten to the mine site yet!

Time and nature reclaims the "boarding house."

A once busy wood stove that fed hungry miners.

The mine was within striking distance now and we made it as lunchtime approached.  We were right on the edge of this mountain, with a view over Frisco and Lake Dillon that caught your attention.  The mouth of the mine had been long since covered over to keep anyone from entering it, but there were still two rusting steel rails exiting the mine, where the small cars would have brought debris from the inside to dump over the outside of the mountain.  The old air compressor and another machine of sorts, were still sitting there next to the opening of the mine, earning every speck of rust they were wearing, since the glory days.  Charlotte shared some of the mines history with us, we ate our lunches, and we visited with those that made it to Surprise Mine this day.

Almost there.

A visual appreciation for our elevation gain.

We posed for photo ops and then headed back dowwwwnn.  It took about half the time as it did going up.  And at the end of the trail, there is always that good feeling of making it back to the trailhead.  Beth picked us up and transported us back to the future, from the late 1800’s to early 1900’s.

Reaching the Surprise Mine, we were greeted by some relics of the past.

The air compressor (above) and some other
important piece of machinery...for sure.

We ate up some lunch and some mine facts.

Greg and I rested, restored, and ready to trail run down the mountain...
but we stayed with the group, cause that its the safe thing to do. 

Not a bad view.  Wonder if the miners thought so.

You never know whom you will meet when you say hello to a stranger or strike up a conversation.  In this case, we gained some new friends, some history, and a lot of elevation!  Say hello to a stranger or strike up a conversation.  Not a strong point for me, but I'm workin' on it.  And if this is what is up for this senior...I'm looking forward to it.

My new friends, that have legs like mountain goats.

My Zen from the Trail:  One of our rest stops was that of a small spring.  It was a good level rest stop for the humans and a great watering hole for the canines.  At this point in the hike, the dogs’ energy was waning.  As we drank from our water bottles, the dogs took advantage of the cool spring water, trickling down the mountain.  First, one of the Cocker Spaniels nestled into a low spot filled with spring water to cool off.  Then, I believe it was Willis that after lapping a good portion of water, seemed to have found a second wind comparable to that of a tornado!  This dog found the energy of a split atom and starting tearing around us, dodging trees and people, about as fast a “caninely” possible.  Mind you, above and below the trail we were standing on, the angle of the mountainside was steeeeep!  Of course the other dogs were drawn into the frenzy and it ignited a chase scene, worthy of Charlie Chaplin and the Keystone Cops.  Up, down, and around us humans…over and through the spring water.  They soon tired and returned to the spring for a soak and a drink.  Their energy, gave me the energy, to make the final push to the mine.  I will not soon forget those 5 dogs in that amazing display of sheer exuberance and joy, on the side of a mountain, in the middle of the woods.  Makes me want to lay in spring fed puddles…or just my feet!  You never know.