Preparation is Key

How to drive in the winter?  "Just don't get overly confident. Carl's constant advice was be prepared, be preventative." - My Mother

Dark clouds seen while entering a Mountainous Highway

The thing about weather is … it can be unpredictable (see Chaos Theory).  Except when you’re caught off guard by weather, it’s more like diarrhea-unpredictable than, say, winning-the-lottery-unpredictable.  You might have seen the storm coming, but thought, “We’ll get out early enough and I’ll miss the bad stuff.”  And you might be right.  Or your boss can be a total d-bag and keep you until its dark and there’s six inches on the ground and the governor has declared a state of emergency.  You’re probably S.O.L. but it doesn’t have to be that way.

The prior description isn’t my most recent experience, but it’s not far from reality.  Thankfully I was prepared and my car preformed well.  I’ll try to write this PSA loosely using my experiences for example and only as sparsely as I quote my mother from an email she recently wrote in response to my experience.  And which she strictly forbade me to share in my writing.  Sorry, Ma.

Day Pack Essentials for any day in Colorado (they forgot sun screen and lip balm)

One thing that I took away from camp is that there’s no need to know what the weather will do, if you are prepared for whatever the weather can do.  In other words, if it went from sunny to rainy and the temperature dropped 30 degrees – not an unlikely scenario in the Rockies in the summer or El Nino spring – you’re fine if you have a rain jacket and a warm layer.  Any outdoor enthusiast will tell you about their gear and how it takes the unpleasantness out of the unforeseen circumstances that inevitably arise during any adventure.  But how many of us take care in our daily circumstances well enough to insure a worst case scenario danger is taken out of a miserable, wintry commute.

This is our Interstate System that we all complain about.

The following is a quote from my mother describing how my grandfather, Carl Mershon, would prepare his 1950’s GMC Suburban when he drove to Vermont in the winter to hunt and adventure.  This was a time before the Eisenhower Interstate System, so the trek to Vermont included a few hundred miles on two-lane, dark, country road.  Also, a time before high tech Doppler RADAR, satellite, iphone weather app prediction.  He probably read the weather in the same newspaper sitting next to him in the truck.

This is what I was taught by my father about travel and winter, i.e., Vermont.  

Always have the following in your vehicle:  

Wool blankets

Wool socks 

Extra pair of pants 

Boots 

Gloves 

Hat 

Snacks [Carl was a diabetic] 

Water 

Extra jacket 

Salt and Sand [both for weight and use]

My mother is loving and caring and simply trying to remind me of the wonderful things Carl taught us. If it sounds like I’m a little preachy about this Carl guy, it’s probably because he’s the guy who drove to Vermont and built the house that is now my family cabin. He did it on the weekends with his buddy throughout the summer of 1979. And proceeded to take me there for the first 17 years of my life and was the man who introduced me to nature. This man was the definition of wisdom and I will be sure to have other writings on his bad ass knowledge, but for now he can remain our model.

Vermont in Autumn

In Winter

My lovely mother is forgetting a few more things that are crucial to have in your car, not just during the winter, but at anytime. A box Carl always kept behind the driver’s seat:
Jumper Cables
Windshield Fluid
Oil
U.S. Road Atlas
Flash Light
Lighter

You can buy this Snow Car Kit at Home Depot for $70

So, anyway, I’m driving from Denver to Vail on Monday, November, 23rd and it’s a beautiful blue ski day. Colorado: 300 days of sunshine! It snowed the entire previous week to the point that Vail opened on Friday with the most acres (1000+) in decades. But it hadn’t snowed since Friday.

At the foot of 14er Longs Peak

I sleep in late, about seven, because Dr. Wang and I climbed, or attempted to climb Longs Peak the day prior and I was tired as hell. This way I would miss the Denver traffic. I was on I-70 by 9:30 and Denver was clear. But of course Google maps showed plenty of red before the Loveland Pass. More traffic; typical I-70 through theRockies. Google then re routes my trip off I-70 and around the mess and says I can make Vail (about 100 miles) in two hours. That's good time! The sunny slopes are calling!

The Bipass

Route

The first indication that something was amiss with the route occurred as the Computer Lady instructed me to turn on Squaw Pass Road and proceed for nine miles. But I was in a caravan of half a dozen cars clearly all following the voice of the almighty Google God. We climbed the pass, covering switch backs that kept our speed below 20 mph on roads that were questionable, yet still passable. Then at the top of the Pass, CDOT work trucks and a road closed sign.

One more look at Squaw Pass. Note: Somewhere west of Squaw Mt. we left CO-103

Before I could read and assess the situation, the Voice re-routed me to the right and down the hill. Steep, yet passable. Surely as we descended the snow would dissipate. But we fell into shadows and the switches got tight to the point they were hairpins carefully navigating down a steep slope. The road now had the distinct feel of a mountain driveway in mid febrauary. Snow packed and glazed. 15% grade at least, but probably closer to 20%. For those ofyou who are unfamiliar with road grades, a 5% grade is a fairly standard hill. This means that over 100 feet of travel you will descend 5 feet, like walking up a step ladder from home plate to first base. A 10% would be walking up a high dive in the same span. 15% would be a second story roof, and so on.

 

(Not to scale)

The delivery truck two cars ahead of me stops while rounding a bend moments after I hit the brakes and slid for the first time. I only slid for a split second, but it was enough of a siren to alert me that this situation was very unexpected and the outcome was no longer clear.

I put my truck in park and engaged the emergency brake. It felt like I was on level ground compared to the last hairpin turn, but there’s no need to take a chance. The truck wasn’t moving and it was time to see what the hell was up. A quick look behind me showed a Subaru Forester and two sedans, one of which was wedged against the snow bank like he just barely made it around the turn.

How to install snow chains

The man in the Honda Pilot (large, AWD SUV) got out and agreed to go see what was going on down below. I put work gloves on and prepared to put my chains on. See I drive a FWD vehicle, that handles fine in the snow until it slips. Then it stops or doesn’t stop at all.

Mr. Honda returns to inform me that there’s a sedan equipped with summer tires, turned sideways below and another commercial van between the truck and it. No one has a shovel, which brings me to my first amendment to Carl’s Laws of Winter Travel:

Carry a Shovel in your vehicle.

 

Walking in snow will quickly freeze any non water proof clothing

I keep my backcountry avalanche shovel in my truck. It’s about a square foot and the handle (only another foot long at best) retracts. This is the shovel which I handed to Mr. Honda and instructed him to give to Mr. Stuckinthesnow. I have also dug cars out that were blocking traffic back east on Roosevelt Boulevard and a minivan full of maids on an I-70 entrance ramp on my first day in Vail Valley. A shovel, and one that is particularly sturdy with which you can break ice, can be a practical item to keep in your car during the winter months. Remember you are probably not shoveling snow so much with this shovel as you are clearing hard packed banks and chipping away road ice in case of an emergency.

My Baby

So Mr. Stuckinthesnow digs his way out and scoots down the hill and in the mean time the Forester backed its way up the hill and retreated back to I-70 to sit in park. The truck in front doesn’t want to move. The hairpin turn he stopped in the midst of is tight and the next turn is the steepest of them all. By the looks maybe 40 feet over 200 feet. I have only one way out and that’s down. FWD cars don’t climb as well as they descend. The truck driver moves over as far as he can and Mr. Honda agrees to squeeze around and try his luck first. He’s successful and with my chains this drive is cake.

But what about the sedan behind me stuck in a snow bank? His tires are bald and I’m not even sure if the car is recent enough to have ABS. However, Mr. Brokeasscar has several valuable items. For one he has two 50 lbs bags of sand and stone mix. He also has a massive car blanket. Together with Mr. Civicwithnewtires, the sedans decide they will spread the sand and bumper-car-slide (see :56) down the hill. With the blanket quandrupled over the Civic’s bumper, Mr. Brokeasscar tail gates the civic down the hill, occasionally sliding and striking the bumper, causing both cars to momentarily slide before equalizing the direction of their momentum. They did this through the next three turns and disappeared down the road.

We all made it out, but it could have been worse. I was lucky to only have a few hours delay and not a serious incident. I was prepared with adventure gear/clothing appropriate to climb a 14,200’ mountain in -11 temperatures as well as my ski gear. While I was low on food, I still had left over granola bars and peanut butter crackers from the hike. I also stopped at the store and bought oranges and apples, just before I filled up my gas tank. Yes I did these things because gas is 75 cents cheaper in Denver compared to Vail, but still they came in super handy. A good rule of thumb is to fill up before you get below a half tank when traveling. A five minute fill up is infinitely better than hours in the freezing cold waiting for a tow truck or help or worse. If it’s going to snow, top off. Would you rather run out of gas in a blizzard or be warm as hell in a running car (yeah I know idling is bad for the earth, but so is my death!)

To Recap:

Heavy blanket(s)
Extra pair of pants, socks, gloves, hat, jacket
Boots
Snacks
Water (Keep a gallon of water in your car. Even if it freezes, you can always thaw it using your car.)
Salt, Sand, and/or Kitty Litter (for weight and use)

Jumper Cables
Fluids: Windshield, Anti-freeze, Oil
U.S. Road Atlas
Flash Light
Lighter

Full tank of gas

Shovel
Chains
First Aid Kit

Fuel? Stove Kit? (If you're stranded on the side of the road with a stove and a back country meal or two, you are probably going to be the most popular guy after a few hours).

Anything else that makes the back country more comfortable will more than likely make a stranded front country emergency more comfortable. 

"You never know ... Just think about if you'd gotten stuck yesterday. And keep your gas tank full!"

Vermont in the Summer

This is Carl.  And that's me standing on the tailgate of his truck

That Camp Lyfe

Red Creek Valley

So the first thing I should probably do is explain my absence over the last few months.  I essentially lived under a rock all summer.  Or, more appropriately, between two large rocks in a valley of no reception.   From the beginning of June until mid August I lived in the Red Creek Valley where cell reception is less available than bears and mountain lions.  What the hell was I doing hunkered down for 72 days?  Good question. A question I asked myself and co workers that several times in late July.  What I was supposed to be doing was taking early high school aged kids into the wilderness and instructing them on how to live and explore appropriately and safely.  I did that and it was awesome.  I’ll go into more of that later.  But first, what else was I doing?  I mean, really how the hell did I end up in a summer camp making two bucks an hour, eating meat, cheese, and potatoes, and not communicating with my loved ones?

Red Creek Valley

I guess I should start with where I heard about this camp.  Mr. Nitrous’ brother, Mr. Dinosaur, discovered the camp in college and thought it’d be sweet to go work in Colorado for the summer.  He was right.  He would enjoy his time so much he’d return.  Mr. Dinosaur would also meet his wife, LJ, who was an administrator at the camp and move to Durango, CO.  So naturally, as I planned my move to Colorado, it seemed only right to go work with kids in a setting that was wild and full of adventure.  Beta, I thought, I would collect beta for all of my own personal adventures.  And get paid!  So what I guess I’m getting at is, was it worth it?  What I’m battling with is whether servant wages and impossible energy demands were worth the opportunity to live and walk around one of the most beautiful places on earth.

Goat

To be clear:  I hiked about 200 miles, saw snow atop a mountain in the Utah desert, walked along the Continental Divide and Colorado Trails, slept out under the Colorado stars a dozen nights, mountain biked for the first time, got back into rock climbing, summited two fourteen thousand foot mountains, saw an insane amount of shooting stars, and played a whole lot of Gaga.  It was a pretty damn good summer.  Of the 72 days I was employed at camp, I spent 35 in the backcountry.  This is the most adventure I’ve had the opportunity of doing and every one of those 35 days offered some special moment of outdoor experience I will not soon forget.  

Adventuresome Counselors

There are a lot of stories I would like to share, and I haven’t exactly been prolific in writing of late, so I want to start somewhere particularly easy.  My favorite trip(s) of the summer: one of which could be considered a failure and the other a total success, both of which occurred in one of Colorado’s most popular backcountry destination.  Chicago Basin is a beautiful area in the Waminuche Wilderness of the San Juan NF.  Situated between the Needle Mountains, Chicago Basin is home to three 14ers and Colombine Pass.  

The Peaks of Chicago Basin viewed from the North

We started our hike across from Purgatory Ski Resort and quickly descended into the Purgatory Flats where we hiked for a few miles along the Cascade Creek enjoying beautiful views of treacherous cascade hundreds of feet below.  The spring and early summer had been abnormally rainy and the creeks and rivers in southwest Colorado were raging with snowmelt and rain runoff.  This made Cascade Creek look far more like a flooded river than any creek I’d ever seen on the east coast.

Sunrise over Sunlight Peak

As I’ve already stated, I went into Chicago Basin twice this summer.  My first experience was grand and full of awe, but ultimately we ran into so much snow in Twin Lakes Basin that we had to turn back.  By so much snow I want to clarify that it was the 27th day of June and the first day of the year that 12,000’ had not gone below freezing temperatures (according to a passing group well prepared for the ascent with snow shoes, crampons, axes, helmets, etc).  Breaking trail meant post holing through crotch deep at 13,000’ for over a mile before starting the snow covered boulder hop ascent to the summit.  Turning back was a no brainer given the fact the expedition consisted of seven 15 year old kids and a co-counselor who wanted to kill me before we got paired for the trip.  I pushed the kids up as far as I could into Windom Basin and stopped to eat breakfast and watch the early morning sun rise over Sunlight Peak (14,058’).  With a clear view of both Windom Peak (14,088')and Sunlight Peak we took bets on the success of two climbers who ascended with us but pushed on due to higher level of gear preparation.  The climbers were prepared, but I was apprehensive of their success since we passed them on the initial ascent out of Chicago Basin up to Twin Lakes and one climber had a cotton Temple University Football shirt on.  As we sat in the warmth of the sun curiously watching the climbing stretch a few hundred yards ahead of us, we heard and felt a crack of thunder unrivaled by any storm and watched as a house-sized boulder cracked from the base of Sunlight Peak and tumbled towards Windom Basin bringing waves of snow in tail.  The morning was a success, but it was time to retreat to the warmth of a thousand feet below.  While I waited for the children and the inept counselor to gather their gear and prepare for the descent, I watched as the mountaineers of North Philadelphia began their retreat back towards Twin Lakes.  It was beautiful and powerful and I knew I’d return to tackle the first two 14ers I’d ever seen.

Photo Courtesy of Mr. Dinosaur

The rest of the summer came and went.  I failed in an attempt to summit a Centennial 13er yet again because of the unseasonable amounts of snow, but started climbing again and learned that mountain biking is just as fun or more fun than riding a street bike.  For the final trip of camp my good buddy Mr. Turtle and I wormed our way into an all boys trip back to Chicago Basin.  With a weather window and permission to climb North Eolus (the 14,039’ smaller brother of Eolus Peak that is not technically a peak) by the Camp Director, we set off on my second attempt.

About eight miles from our drop point, lunch already had, we were killing it moving at over 2 miles an hour.  Then it started to rain.  And Turtle could be heard in the rear of the hiking line laughing with joy.  See when you go on an adventure, or hope for an adventure, you are expecting “everything to go wrong” and hopefully you are prepared for it.  So rain on the first afternoon of a five day expedition is all part of the adventure.  Not to mention, if you love thunderstorms then there is nothing better than feeling the mountains shake under your feet as the thunder crack echoes laboriously through the valley you marching through.  Generally, or so I’m told since this summer was so abnormal, I have yet to experience the phenomenon of the true southwest monsoon rains -  it rains hard for 30-45 minutes between the hours of one and five in the afternoon everyday in Colorado.  This rain lasted for seven hours.  Letting up twice that I can recall and down pouring far more times.  We set up camp under an extra large tarp we were fortunate enough to be randomly given by the Expedition Coordinator Mr. Spoons, charged with preparing all the gear and food for the group.  As we all got dry and put on warm layers and fleece, it quickly became clear to Mr. Turtle and I that we needed to make a list of things these boys did wrong and publish it starting with #1 - Do not put anything you do not want to get wet outside of a waterproof area in your pack (ie. socks in your brain).

Anatomy of a Pack

It continued to rain through our tarped diner and into bed time, but we awoke to a sun warm enough to dry our shirts and enjoy breakfast.  Our second day was uneventful with the exception of running into a few other groups trekking in the vicinity of the Basin.  Nevertheless, 4,000’ over six plus miles is a tiring day and it wasn’t hard to put everyone in bed shortly after dark around nine.  My alarm rang us awake at 2:30 and we pushed for everyone to stuff their camp gear into backpacks and hang them in a tree out of the reach of munching mountain goats. After a hearty breakfast of granola, powdered milk, and cowboy coffee, we set forth by light of a full moon to the Basin to begin our ascent to Twin Lakes, where we would begin a summit attempt of Windom Peak and North Eolus.

Immediately our weak link was determined as a 14 year old boy from Denver started to complain that his legs were burning, a common effect of climbing up a hill at altitude.  Mr. Turtle and I were aware that this would occur, but this was pretty early as we were just approaching 12,000’.  We slowly trudged with this kid’s inability to process the lactic acid accumulating in his thighs and blood stream, but we had plenty of time and no one was willing to turn around.  The sun came out as we approached the saddle of Windom Peak, but we continued to climb in the shadow of the peak.  The final push to the summit of Windom is a boulder hop with just a bit of hand over hand climbing (low class stuff that isn’t technical or exposed at all, but slows your pace for sure).  Altitude boy was struggling still, but so was I and everyone human at 13,000’.  With continued encouragement, homeboy didn’t stop and “put one foot in front of the other” and we made it to the summit at about eight am, four hours into our hike.

Panorama from Windom Peak

The summit was everything I expected out of a 14,089’ mountain in the middle of the Rocky Mountains and more.  Views of mountain tops spread for a radius of fifty miles with iconic geographic structures identifiable in every direction.  Nearby Sunlight, Eolus, Jupiter, and Kennedy peaks seemed so close and vivid you got the impression you could reach out and let the ant like people crawling on them scurry right onto your outstretched finger.   There was a summit log that Mr. Turtle filled out, we scarfed down some GORP and, while I could have spent the entire day sitting atop the rock, we began our slow descent back into Windom Basin where we would have to traverse Twin Lakes again to begin our summit push for North Eolus.

While climbing, your body maintains its core temperature quite easily and as long as you have the right materials on, any sweat is quickly lost to evaporation at altitude.  The exposed summit is a different story.  Winds holding steady above 50 mph and temperatures below freezing make for a very cold adventure: Turtle and Andy’s Tip #2 -  If you want to be warm on a mountain top, don’t forget your warm clothes.  But at this point our campers are cold, tired, and more than a little nauseous from the altitude and dreading the thought of climbing another big mountain.  Thankfully for those guys, they had Mr. Turtle and myself to inform them that fatigue and nausea are not reasons to turn around on a beautiful Colorado summer day, standing at the foot of a completely attainable 14er.  So we trudged on one foot in front of the other until about ten minutes to noon when we sat on the summit and enjoyed the last of the beef jerky and split some leftover candy bars.

Panorama from North Eolus

We would end that trip over the next two bright sunny days climbing over Columbine Pass down Johnson Creek and out Vallecito Creek with the braggadocio that comes with climbing two 14ers, your first 14ers that you once failed at, but returned and climbed both in one day.  The confidence that if you ever return, you’ll do Sunlight (Class 4) and Eolus (Class 3).  The last night of the trip I lay on a river beach chatting with Mr. Turtle about the future, plans and adventures, watching shooting stars fall from the sky one right after the other.  

This summer was hard at times and certainly didn’t pay enough to cover my student loans  or support a 401k, but it gave me the western mountain experience and adventure that I had been dreaming of for many years now.  I’m not sure what the future has in store, but I know that I can and will always find wild adventure in the Colorado Rockies. And I promise to post many more stories from the summer in the next few weeks.

The last month.

I recently had the epiphany (not all that remarkable though) that I have had a good month.  An adventurous month for sure.  To sum everything up, I took all of my Instagram photos, re-captioned them, and put them into a few paragraphs full of run on sentences and grammatical errors.  I hope this reads in a similar blur that my month seemed to have been. 

I left Jackson Hole, Wyoming and the erudite company of several college friends.  Took to the road to discover the Continental Divide from Montana to New Mexico.  Tried to find winter in Utah and succeeded.  Atop Mt. Reynolds in the Wasatch, I discovered what so many people have already seen in Utah: limitless ski potential.  Saw huge, red rocks for the first time in the Utah desert at Arches.  Arches is pretty much a jungle gym made of rock.  Also, Double O looks like a monkey punching a rock.  I entered Colorado and immediately there was a breath-taking NP.

I entered the Colorado Rockies.  Sending postcards from every adventure along the way.  Trying not to forget to communicate with the ones I love.  Saw my first 14er while on the first mountain I would climb in Colorado.  Chewie the dog climbed Green Mountain with me and the Wang brothers, too.  Went to my first baseball game of the season and saw Kyle Kendrick get shelled.  Sorry Rockies. Attempted to climb my first 14er.  Found out altitude is a game changer.  But found Hidden Valley, a self-propelled snow sliding resort within Rocky Mountain NP. 

Ate breakfast in the Black Canyon of the Gunnison NP on my first trip from Denver to Durango.  

 

My parking spot at the BCGNP had a view to remember.  Wherever you see statues of bears fighting eagles, you can rest assured you are in a good place.  I got to have my first (and what I thought would be last) Colorado campfire.  No one wants to disappoint Smokey!  Then we climbed a few hills and slid down.  I truly enjoy sliding down mountains on snow.   I have also grown quite fond of the red rocks that make up a large part of the Colorado Rockies. Especially the volcanic SanJuans (ask me about their geology!)  Durango has such good views, one moment you're looking at the grocer and you turn around to see several layers of mountains.  If you're lucky, some are snow capped. 

I found some more turns that I could earn at Hoosier pass on my way back to Denver. Seeing tiny people on the broad mountain sides reminds me of the theme song to the Showtime series, Weeds. Tiny boxes on the hillside.  While camping in Pike NF before rafting the Royal Gorge with Dr. Wang and Henriquez, I had the revelation that car camping is thebest.  Also, my tent is awesome.  The three B's that make car camping great:  bathrooms, beer, and bacon!  I skied Loveland Pass because, as Mr. Nitrous so eloquently said, "[I] love skiing laps."  But it was $25 and they had a hut at the top of several lifts with a propane grill and they didn't care if you had your beer run before your last run.  To celebrate all my fun times in Denver I tried to burn it to the ground and cook steak and corn on its coals (I BBQ'd).

 I truly enjoy my room with a view in Durango.  I started work again.  It's pretty good so far, but I have to be nice to my coworkers or they'll spit on me.  My first week working at camp and I already fit right in.  I drove a van that distinctly reminded me of my grandfather's 1986 GMC Suburban.  I'm no cowboy, but I do enjoy working with horses in the mountains.

If that was too confusing, peruse these photos and hopefully the adventure will be clearer.

I left Jackson Hole, Wyoming and the erudite company of these lovely people.

Took to the road to discover the continental divide from Montana to New Mexico

Tried to find winter in Utah.  I succeeded.

Atop Mt Reynolds in Little Cottonwood Canyon, I discovered what so many people have already seen in Utah: limitless ski potential.

Saw huge, red rocks for the first time in Utah desert at Arches.

Arches is pretty much a jungle gym made of rock.  Also, Double O looks like a monkey punching a rock.

I entered Colorado and immediately there was a breath-taking NP.  Then I entered the Colorado Rockies.

Sending postcards from every adventure along the way.

Trying not to forget to communicate with the ones I love.

Saw my first 14er while on the first mountain I would climb in Colorado.

Chewie climbed the mountain with me.

Went to my first baseball game of the season and saw Kyle Kendrick get shelled.  Sorry Rockies.

Attempted to climb my first 14er.  Found out altitude is a game changer.

But discovered a self propelled snow sliding resort within Rocky Mountain NP

Ate breakfast in the Black Canyon of the Gunnison NP on my first trip from Denver to Durnago

My parking spot at the BCGNP had a view to remember.

Wherever you see statues of bears fighting eagles, you can rest assured you are in a good place.

I got to have my first (and what I thought would be last) Colorado campfire.  No one wants to disappoint Smokey!

Then we climbed a few hills and slid down. 

 I truly enjoy sliding down mountains on snow.

I have also grown quite found of the red rocks that make up a large part of the Colorado Rockies.  Especially the volcanic San Juans (ask me about their geology!)

Durango has such good views, one moment you're looking at the grocer and you turn around to see several layer of mountains.  If you're lucky, some are snow capped.

I found some more turns that I could earn at Hoosier pass on my way back to Denver.

Seeing tiny people on the broad mountain sides reminds me of the theme song to the Showtime series Weeds.  Tiny boxes on the hillside...

While camping in Pike NF before rafting the Royal Gorge with Dr. Wang and Henriquez, I had the revelation that car camping is the best.  Also, my tent is awesome.

The three B's that make car camping great:  Bathrooms, beer, and bacon!

I skied Loveland Pass because, as Mr. Nitrous so eloquently said it, "[I] love skiing laps."

But it was $25 and they had a hut at the top of several lifts with a propane grill and they didn't care if you had your beer run before last run.

To celebrate all my fun times in Denver I tried to burn it to the ground and cook steak and corn on its coals ( I BBQ'd)

I truly enjoy my room with a view in Durango.

I started work again.  It's pretty good so far, but I have to be nice to my coworkers or they'll spit on me.

My first week working at camp and I already fit right in.

I drove a van that distinctly reminded me of my grandfather's 1986 GMC Suburban.

I'm no cowboy, but I do enjoy working with horses in the mountains.