Local Surprises...

Throughout the happenings of each day, I am usually surprised by at least a few things, if not more, on a pretty regular basis.  Below are some pics I snapped of these surprises with a little explanation.

The bike trail we ride from where we are enjoying our time here in Colorado,
is just a few minutes away.  On our first attempt to hit the trail, heading up to
stretch our legs, this surprise was waiting for us.  With all the snowmelt, the
streams are bulging and in this case overflowing their banks a bit.  In this case,
covering up part of the bike trail.

For whatever reason, I kinda enjoy these poor
trees that recover after something in their young
lives cramp their growth.  They persevere and
this one looks as if it were as straight as the next one.

I'm a little surprised at what Beth will do
when asked (especially with a camera at the
ready).  Here she is pointing with her head
to the surprises left on the trail by a moose.
I do love a good a good scat pile...it's the
science teacher in me...I hope!

I was surprised and attracted to the warm,
honey-rich color of this dead standing pine
we came across on a hike

A surprise appearance by the first Indian
Paintbrush I've seen this spring, hiding
behind some logs, just off the trail.

I veered off the path to check out the swollen stream below the trail and ran
across this great boulder, covered with some kind of rusty-colored lichen...
I think.  In that setting, the color surprised me.  I just kept staring at it.

On a scattered shower kind of day, I was surprised I was able to get out to bike
between showers.  The downpour (right-center) is right where I came from 15
minutes earlier.  By the time I made it back, it looked as if it never happened.

Now this was a SURPRISE.  We were eating dinner with Beth's aunt and uncle,
when I turned around to look out the window and WHAM...my eyes filled with
the most vibrant rainbow I may have ever seen.  People talked about it for days.

On a relatively difficult hike, we were approaching our destination, but you
had to pick your way through a small snow field to get to the top.  We were
sticking close to any rocky areas, where there was less snow to tromp through,
and our surprise was this unusually passive ptarmigan.  There was no zoom on
this shot, as it hung out among the rocks.

A surprisingly colorful sunset outside our door.

The first weekend of our stay here in Summit County, we were surprised with
"The Highest Air Show" in the country.  These are a few pics from that event.

It was a surprise to me to be in the right place at the right time to catch this
amazing sunset.  Surprising that I took it while driving (actually Beth had the
wheel).  But not so surprising is a great sunset, there seems to be no shortage of
them here in the high country.

And that is just the first week of our stay!  Like someone's blog I follow entitled, "Willing To Be Surprised," I am willing and ready to be surprised some more!

My Zen from the Road:  Even though the license plate on our car says, "B STLL," I have a hard time exhibiting that thought when driving (which is kinda funny to me).  Today we drove to Kremmling to check out a saw mill, as a source for wood to finish our murphy bed wall back home.  The road leading to Kremmling is a two lane, 65 mph "highway," on which you find a variety of drivers...me being one of them.  I soon found myself behind a few cars that had two strikes against them...driving under the speed limit more than driving over it and inconsistent speed.  There...those are my pet peeves, for those of you I may sneak up behind while driving.  You already know where this is heading, so as I pass one of the cars in my way (ha), I begin to slip back into the right lane and I notice that the previous car I was passing had sped up a bit to make my slot to pull into a bit smaller.  They honked as I more/less squeezed in front of them and I never looked over to see whom I've offended.  As luck would have it, there were way more cars ahead of me, with the same M.O. and to make it even better, we were approaching some road work that narrowed down to one lane and to expect "45 minute delays."  NICE!  We soon coasted to our "delayed" position in line, turned the car off, and I tried to find some form of meditation to get me through this.  As I was focusing on my blood pressure, I noticed the car behind me was of course the one that I may or may not have "cutoff" a few miles back (cuz I was goin' places).  A minute later, I caught a quick glimpse in my side view mirror of a man approaching along the side of the car and then a tap on my window.  My blood pressure may or may not have spiked at that moment.  My thought process was...the driver from the car I had disrespected had something to share with me.  He was an older man.  Slender, with a pleasant enough look to his face.  I'm thinking I am going to get dragged out of my car and get an ass whoopin' by someone's grandpa.  I rolled my window down, expecting to get an earful of driving advice, when he opened his mouth and told me my right-rear brake light was out and I out to have it replaced before I get stopped and ticketed.  I unclenched my sphincter muscles, thanked the man (for not kicking my butt), and resumed my blood pressure monitoring.  What can I say?  That was a surprise.

Take a Hike

One of our goals when traveling/house sitting is to try and fit in or experience where we are as a “local”.  Being somewhere for a week or more allows us to not feel rushed, so we don’t have to cram in all the sights before packing up and rushing off to the next destination.  My priorities, while here visiting my mountain playground, are hiking, biking, fishing, and participating in local events, and it’s all done with relatively easy access here.

For example, Beth and I want to use this time away from our recent remodeling at home to try and become more active, without tearing a wall down, hammering, or painting.  In other words, make a more conscience effort to exercise vs. random household projects that work you out randomly.  So here we are, back in Colorado.  What should we do?  Let’s take a hike.

Experience reminds us to take it easy, so our lungs won’t fail us.  Something short and not too much elevation gain.  I scoured a number of trails sites on the web and decided on Mayflower Gulch.  With the trailhead located not too far from Copper Mountain, the trail leads to a picturesque setting of an old mining area, where there are a few cabin remnants left from back in the day.  There were as many as 2000 folks living in this area when the mining was good.  It’s hard to imagine how that many people filled this valley with their cabins, equipment, livestock, brothels…, but the day we hiked, we were the only ones parked at the trailhead.  With 2 miles ahead of us, we grabbed our gear and set out.

The sign comes with the jacket and daypack.

The trail is also a “road” used by 4 wheel drive vehicles, so it’s wide and easy to follow.  As we began our ascent, we could still see patches of snow near the ridgeline of the surrounding mountains.  And around the first bend in the road, we realized that there was still plenty of snow to maneuver at our elevation as well.  There was enough to make us wonder if we should consider this hike, another day.  There had been enough melting that exposed the edges of the road that we decided to press on and take our chances. 

If that's the speed limit, it's not rough enough for 4-wheelin'.

The sound of the cars humming by on 91, were soon replaced by the wind in the trees and the babbling of small impromptu streams of snowmelt crossing the trail.  There was evidence that we were not the only ones that had the urge to get out and get our mountain legs under us, as we followed melting footprints through the snow.  Where the snow was compressed by nature or previous trailblazers, it was relatively easy going, but stray too far one side or the other and it was easy to find your leg knee deep in a cold wet hole. 

What difference does a little snow make?

The incline persisted all the way to where the trail opened up to the amphitheater-like valley, where the cabin remnants remained standing, with one more winter under their belts.  The “road” continued upwards and off to our right, as we proceeded left across a stream and toward the structures of the past.  Once again, placing each step carefully made the difference of easy progress or a shoe full of snow.  We did both.

Not there yet, but this view reinvigorated us to trudge on.

Made it!

The setting is picturesque if not breathtaking, but you have to wonder if the miners of the day even noticed the beauty that surrounded them, once they started swinging their pick axes for hours on end, hoping to find what they had come for.  For some reason, I don’t picture myself being very successful in this environment over 100 years ago, freezing at night, probably eating very little, and beating on rocks.  I’m good where I am!

Even though there was action in the valley as late as the 1980’s, it is now a destination for hikers to view the past, soak up summer wildflower displays, and appreciate its return to it’s wild status. 

We paid our respects to the valley’s past by entering the cabins (with and without roofs) and tried to imagine all those that had entered through the same doorway or looked out the same window.  The wildflowers seemed weeks away, as the snow gives way to the bare ground below, so we click some pictures and head back.  Now, where was that packed snow to walk on?

Maybe with a view like that, I could have been a miner...
nah!

My ceilings would have needed to have been a bit taller.

Making our way back down the trail, we didn’t seem to mind too much that even though our hiking shoes were waterproof, they were not impervious to the snow simply coming in around our ankles over the tops of our shoes.  We made good time heading down hill, until I noticed an unusual print in the snow that caught my attention.  It was the size of my hand, minus the last couple of knuckles.  And at the end were spaces that large claws would have filled.  The print didn’t seem to look to “melted” at the time and that gave us motivation to make even better time downhill.  There were no berries on the bushes as of yet for the bears, but Beth had on a berry-colored jacket (purplish) and the saying…”You don’t have to be the fastest, just not the slowest.”, came to mind.

So assimilating into being a “local” is not as easy as it may sound.  I’m pretty sure the locals new that there was still snow on that trail, thus the empty parking lot at the trailhead.  And the tracks we followed in the snow probably belonged to tourists rushing to get in a hike, so they could move on to their next destination.  In a nutshell, locals are smarter about their home turf than those of us that are temporary, but we are getting smarter with every decision we make.  The talks we share and beauty we take in are always worth the extra effort on the trail.

My Zen from the Trail:  It’s easy to think of all the “bad” what-ifs when you are out in nature, miles (in some cases) from real help.  With every step, there could be a misstep.  With every bear track, there is a bear that left it behind.  But it seems to be worth the adrenaline spikes.  The “good” what-ifs, like wild animal sightings, always lead the way on every trail I hike.  We visited with a couple on a trail that literally walked beside mountain goats on a previous hike.  As their paths crossed, a sense of respect was observed, and now they (the people and the goats) have that memory.  Don’t ignore the what-ifs, but don’t let them prohibit your experiences.

On our way to #7

From the Flint Hills to the windmills, post rock country to cattle country, and all the farmland between…guess what state we crossed to get to our go-to playground.  If you guessed the Czech Republic, I have no words for you.  But if you guessed Kansas, you would be right, cause we are back in Colorado for our another house sit opportunity.

First time I captured the Welcome to Colorful Colorado sign with my cell

phone camera, not blurry, and not swerving back on the road!

Numerous trips...numerous attempts...  Never say never!

Woo-Hoo!  (Don't tell Beth, she was asleep)

One year ago this month, Beth and I joined TrustedHousesitters to aid us in exploring fun and interesting places.  But up until now, we have landed in places and connected with people (and pets) that are in our comfort zone.  And Colorado is one of those places.  In return, we’ve cared for really loveable pets, met some interesting people, and have tried to feel and interact with the area we are visiting, as if we were locals.  In other words we are wandering wannabes. 

We are back where we started last August, upon landing our first house sit.  Summit County.  To respect the privacy of the pets and their owners, assume the names I refer to here in print have been changed.  But let’s backup a week to see what happened after crossing the Sunflower State.

With 6 days before our responsibilities begin for two personable cats at 9,035’, we are visiting some new territory for Beth in Colorado.  Our first stop took us to Salida, CO.  With a few stories from a ski bum friend of mine that spent time near Salida, from his “formative years,” we decided to visit the town to see if there was any residual damage to his reputation from his stay that we might repair in good conscience for him.  Fortunately there were no tattered wanted posters or faded bathroom wall poetry with his name attached, that we saw, so our job was easy.  We experienced some good food and a few shops, walked along the Arkansas River on their riverwalk, did some “rock climbing”, and enjoyed an abbreviated concert at their outdoor amphitheater, followed by a nights sleep.  With what I am guessing was a continental breakfast in our bellies, we then headed for Pagosa Springs.

This kayak strewn alley is actually a sought out photo destination for weddings
and other popularly photographed events.

We were so happy to be out of the car and at our first destination, we couldn't
help but show it on our faces!

Beth takes a moment to fulfill her dream of being on stage. Belting out Pat
Benatar's "Heartbreaker."

Climbing a rock wall, a full two and one
half feet off the ground.  Her technique was
something to behold.

With summer vacation traffic still light, the drive to Pagosa was easy on the nerves.  We passed through mountain valleys, where snow still tops the peaks and had a view of The Great Sand Dunes National Park and Preserve before swinging west and leaving it in our rear view mirror.  After stopping on the outskirts of South Fork for lunch, at Ramon’s Mexican Restaurant (recommended by a coffee barista where Beth got her morning fix), we made the final push over Wolf Creek Pass and down into the springs. 

But a sign on the road we’d observed a few times approaching the pass, about “No Wide Loads” except during a specified time each day, became more clear when we pulled onto the road after lunch.  Evidently they limit Wide Loads to a window of time on these narrow mountainous roads.  And this window opened minutes before our wheels pulled away from Ramon’s and toward the pass.  At 2:03 pm, we found ourselves right behind a Wide Load, that was traveling legally up the pass, starting at 2:00 pm.  It was as if he were a sailboat participating in a regatta, whose timing at the starting line was spot on!  Due to his width and narrowness of the road itself (no shoulders!), there was no passing anytime soon.  Instead of getting a little testy (like that ever happens to me), it was like watching a reality TV show, just waiting for something bad to happen.  The lead warning vehicle, with its yellow lights pulsing and red flags waving, evidently got oncoming traffic’s attention enough so they would pull over as much as they could and allowed the Wide Load to slip by, with not much room for error.  It was quite the experience to witness.  Assuming the truck driver was either wearing Depends or stopped frequently to clean out his pants, he earns every white-knuckle dollar he gets.  Hats off and clean pants to the driver of that rig, because he made a slow drive very exciting!

No room for error! Did I mention there was a tunnel too?  And there was a
was a semi truck and trailer coming in the opposite direction?  Thank
goodness, the tunnel was wider than the road.

We did, eventually, get to pass Mr. Wide Load (and I’m not referring to his pants) and Pagosa Springs soon came into view.  We were drawn to this area by word of mouth and we decided to splurge and spend a couple of nights at The Springs Spa & Resort.  With its 20+ named “pools,” like “Clouds in my Coffee” (what?) and “Lobster Pot” (very appropriate!), we checked in and began our first trip to the hot water buffet.  If you stay at the resort, you have access to the hot pools anytime of the day or night.  You have your own bathrobes to wear to and from the spa area, which comes in handy when you exit a pool. Especially if there is a slight breeze at all, let alone the cool mountain air.  It has an interesting and long history, along with tourists willing to drop a chunk of change to bask along the banks of the San Juan River year round.

The Springs Resort & Spa next to the San Juan River, looking upstream...

...and down stream.

With V.I.P. access, an evening dip, then
drying our tootsies by the fire as the sun sets.

A short hike the next day revealed a grove
of huge aspen.

This pose was for size comparison only.  Massive aspen (say that real fast 3 times)

Next stop…Crested Butte, CO.  Our route heading north took us through some of the most beautiful fall aspen viewing country I’d ever seen.  One of the first things on the list to see after retiring, were the fall colors in Colorado.  Places like Creede, Lake City, Gunnison, and all points in between were truly ablaze with yellows, oranges and reds on the aspen that year.  But this time of year, the leaves have literally just unwrapped themselves and the fall colors are a long way off.

After a short stop in Gunnison, to stretch our legs (shopping), we continued on to the Butte.  Our two nights there were spent at the Nordic Inn, one of the few places to stay, that was not a condo.  Known for its wildflower festival in July, CB is a mecca for mountain bikers in the summer and skiing in the winter.  Like other mountain towns, it has its share of good restaurants, shops to browse, and a list of festivals and concerts to keep the tourists coming all summer long.

First Farmer's Market of the season.

"Wild"flowers found on a trail! 

Our pre-house-sitting vacation waned as we said goodbye to Crested Butte and pointed towards Summit County and house sit #7, in a year’s time.  Leaving CB, we took a “short cut” through Cottonwood Pass (a gravel road going up to the pass and paved coming down the other side) that dumped us out of the mountains into Buena Vista.  This route saved about 45 miles, but literally no time.  We made a fuel stop there and proceeded on to Fairplay and lunch with some good friends, whom we’d house sat and watched their dog, Maxx, back home.  Refueled in a different way, we made our way to Greg and Susi’s place where we would hold up for the night before starting our responsibilities as trusted house sitters. 

Looking back down Cottonwood Pass from hence we came.

My Zen From the Road:  After arriving at Susi's, we walked to the lake where she shared with us a labor of love she discovered a few days earlier.  While walking her dog one morning, she came upon a man at the lake's edge, moving large river rock that was exposed at the waters edge while water levels are low.  She watched for awhile and it was apparent that he was creating something, as he carefully and thoughtfully placed each rock.  After inquiring what he was doing, he shared with her that the figure he was sculpting with the rock, was a man with his hands up in the air as if celebrating.  And indeed this man was celebrating six years of sobriety.  This was his way of giving thanks to God and the universe, he told her.   She never saw him after that day and as the snow melts in the higher elevations of the mountains and it makes its way to the reservoir, the celebrating man of rock is gradually covered by the snowmelt.  With any luck, next spring, as the lake is at lower levels again, maybe the rock man and his creator will be back to celebrate #7.

Each day more snowmelt covers the celebrating rock man.

“Oh, this might work…”

Disclaimer...Not for the faint of heart! If you don't like pictures of blood and exposed finger tissue and stuff like that.  (Dare you not to look!)

Somewhere between Beth and I walking through the townhome we bought last fall and signing on the dotted line to “pay for it,” for the next 30 years, I didn’t read anything about bodily harm in the fine print, when doing the remodeling we eventually talked ourselves into.  Over the last 6 months, I’ve inflicted small nicks, cuts, bruises, and other curse bearing moments, but in the final stages of the remodel, while working on the half bath…it happened.  A split second was the difference between stopping for a lunch break or a visit to the E.R.  That split second took off the “meaty” part at the end of my middle finger on my left hand.  I won’t get into the details, but this event involved the walnut plywood I was intending to join together to form a small box that would make up a “floating” vanity, with a vessel sink to top it off and a really sharp drill bit!

The vanity, as it sits in limbo.  Yes ,I did
work on it a few days after said incident.

In the ensuing moments after this woodworking faux pas, I am not sure if I was in shock, as in the complete medical sense of the word, but as time slipped by, it seemed as if I was watching it happen to someone else.  The pain was mine, and real, but I just kept thinking of how much worse it could have been.  That kept everything in perspective and doable, as I grabbed my finger, and my sister to drive me to the E.R.  Beth diverted the route she was on to join us at the hospital and we sat and waited to see what damage I had done.  That afternoon in the E.R., I could not stop thinking about how my wound, compared to real trauma, seemed so insignificant.  How do people with real “pain” get through it?

Somewhere between getting what I feared would become bedsores on my butt (from waiting) and the posing for the portable x-ray machine (which showed there was no damage to any bones or ligaments…yea!), my finger achieved a state of nirvana with the help of some awesome drug that locally numbed it, along with any plans to finish the vanity soon. 

Fast-forward two and a half weeks from that moment of pain and disbelief to now and I am writing about it.  This is not to share my pain and stupidity, but to bear witness to what an incredible vessel our souls reside in.  Yes, the pictures below are gross and should not be viewed while eating breakfast (disclaimer), but they are a timeline/pictorial of the healing process of what seemed at the time as such a ghastly wound.  I still have a ways to go and who knows about any numbness that may prolong, but each day I am amazed by what I see and some days feel.  The body is an incredible entity.  If only I had thought out a few more things in the moments leading up to the idea I had, thinking…”Oh, this might work…”

Below are a serious of finger photos that show the healing from a bad thought.

In the E.R.  30 minutes from rippage!

At home that evening, changing the bandage.

After week 1.

After week 2.

Today.  See how the skin has filled in from
the outside toward the center?

What? I'm just showing you my bandage.

Made ya look!

My Zen from the E.R.:    I'm not sure what constitutes an emergency in an Emergency Room.  While checking in, while holding my bloody finger, I gave my personal info 3 different times, to 3 different people, using 3 different computers.  Not sure how long it was before actual treatment was applied, but I'm sure it would not be described as..."within minutes." But you know what?  I was taken care of and I'm healing faster than was described to me.  And evidently emergencies are obviously relative!  I'll take this one any day...despite "the look" from the last photo.