Ski Bumming, 2017

Yesterday, a juvenile moose was munching away near the RV Park!

In keeping with the tradition to avoid skiing on the weekends, we pulled out our snowshoes and hit the trail for a Saturday stroll to Phelps Lake, the sixth largest lake in Grand Teton National Park.

On Moose-Wilson Road, we headed north of Teton Village to just past the entrance of Grand Teton National Park. We were greeted by huge walls of snow that blocked any further advancement up the road.

We parked Beastie and examined our options to find the trail. In case you're wondering about a GPS, remember: we're in the middle of winter, so unless a trail is clearly defined through heavy use or a deep track, even with a GPS, routes are not easily discernible in double-digits depths of snow.

The options: a) I wanted to climb up the snowbank to what appeared to be a very established route and follow a couple people who were carrying cross-country skis. b) 1der wanted to go the opposite direction to the normal trailhead sign and embark from there. Guess who won?

Unfortunately, once we were a little past a buried trail distance sign, no real trails were visible, so it was a crap shoot to know which way to go.

We decided to follow one set of tracks that became the main / only tracks to follow.  After snowshoeing in out of the little-used tracks for about an hour, we appeared to be on a direct route to the lake. But then there was one "little" problem: there was (and still is! 😆) a huge mountain between where we were and the lake. Uh oh...

Luckily, the tracks took a turn to the right. Shortly after that, the tracks ended. Just like that. We followed tracks to no where.  Oops!

We backtracked for about 20 minutes and got to a point where there was a fork in the trail. We took a hard left. Within 15 minutes of "bushwhacking" (I love this word, but of course we weren't bushwhacking), we were on the trail that would have taken us directly to the lake (ahem: where I wanted to start...).

And look what we found along the way. Signs of civilization!

It was really cold, so we had to keep moving to stay warm.

1der looked like a freak with this full (too tight, ya think?) balaclava.

Unfortunately it was too late to make it to the lake, so we had to turn around at this point.

My advice to anyone snowshoeing this trail: do not go to the official trailhead (as shown above). Walk in the direction opposite the parking lot entrance and look for the ski tracks. You may have to climb up a snowbank to get to this area. Depending on the time of year and snow conditions, there will be a wide, clearly established, defined ski-track trail that is well-used. By going this way, you will be able to find the lake and not get lost like us. If you're snowshoeing, be sure to stay to the side of the tracks and not walk on them. Hope this all helps!

We made it back to Beastie in time to defrost (it was COLD!) and drove to the Village / Mangey Moose to meet up with A & B, a really cool couple we met last October.  A & B live in Jackson and had flown to San Francisco to attend the wedding of B's cousin, a city-slicker all the way who has the self-appointed persona of a Cowboy. The Cowboy and his truly awesome bride T had a fantastic wedding, and we thank the newlyweds for the strategic seating arrangements which found us next to A &B. Of course our mutual love of skiing / Jackson / Jackson Hole, the mountains and all things adventures gave us lots to talk about that memorable night.

It was great to see them again, and we LOVED their twin girls.  The red-headed and freckled girls are absolutely adorable, and their matching stripped union suits and ski jackets were too cute! My heart melted when I saw them interact and snuggle with each other, happily sharing their Mom's iphone to watch movies.  I was particularly delighted when one of the girls snuggled into my lap to warm up.  I gave her the fleece owl hat I made to keep her warm, and it was so adorable on her, I just had to give it to her.  I will make her sister a matching hat before next winter.

At the end or our time together, the girls, who at this point weren't wearing any shoes, were happily bouncing little superballs in the entrance while their Daddy went to get their truck. When B pulled up, he picked up one of the girls, and 1der the other.  It was SOOO cute to see them get transported and buckled safely into their seats, and then watch them slip on their warm and comfy matching little ugg boots.

We can't wait to see them next year and meet their new son / brother!

1. From Google: "The Presidio, a 1,500-acre park on a former military post, is a major outdoor recreation hub. It has forested areas, miles of trails, a golf course and scenic overlooks. Other highlights include grassy Crissy Field with Golden Gate Bridge views, Civil War–era Fort Point and sandy Baker Beach. Historic buildings house the Walt Disney Family Museum, eateries, homes and businesses like Lucasfilm, with its Yoda Fountain." ↩

It's a very easy walk (especially when you're not in ski boots and carrying skis and poles) from the Fireside RV park to the bus stop in front of Calico pizza. From here, we catch the bus to the mountain, and since Calico is the last stop on the way to Teton Village, it's super easy and quick. Driving is not an option; it costs $25 / day to park (!)

The view from the mountain is spectacular. Luckily the storm cleared overnight, and we were gifted with about eight inches of fresh snow.

Because of our ski bumming days here last year, we are very familiar with the mountain and headed straight over to our favorite run: the trees to the skier-right of Bivouac. To get there, we dropped into to Cheyenne bowl with the hopes of hitting some fresh powder. Not! Instead we found ourselves in “Sierra Cement,” aka heavy, thick mash potatoes that make it very difficult to navigate and turn. This crud is really hard on the legs. Thigh-burn City. We were anxious to get into the trees where we hoped the snow would be lighter.

Luckily, we were rewarded with better snow in the trees, and we ran the pitch over and over to practice all the great tips given to us by our ski instructor friends in Telluride. But the pitch is steeper, the space between the trees is more narrow, and the bumps are a lot bigger than what we hit in Telluride, so it was really great to be able to navigate them a little easier than last year.

There is one downside to skiing Jackson: arriving any time after (what we think to be) mid-January means icy conditions on the entire lower part of the mountain. This is a bummer, because this means skiing the Hobacks would suck, and the Hobacks are definitely a place I want to explore (especially since they are Ron and Patsy's favorite). Our next trip to JH will be planned around a stop-over in January. Hobacks, here we come!

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One of the really cool things we love about traveling is meeting new friends along the way. One of the really cool things about ski bumming in 2017 is reuniting with friends we met while ski bumming in 2016.

Case in point:

Last year while in Jackson, we took a day off from skiing and spent the day exploring Victor, Idaho and the surrounding area. We stopped for dinner at a very highly rated rib joint, and while looking at the menu, I was checking out the ribs being consumed by a couple at a nearby table. After asking if the ribs were good, we continued to chat and learned the hubby used to live in the Presidio^[1] years ago while serving in the Army. L and F were super nice, and we were fascinated by their story of how they met while working as contractors in Iraq.

I especially loved the part when L said she fell in love with F after he saved her life: they were hanging out one night when a bomb went off nearby. He jumped up and covered her body with his in order to protect her from the explosion. Now how romantic is that? Luckily neither of them were hurt.

L and F were so gracious, they even invited us to stay at their house if we didn't have accommodations (we were already set). Virtual complete strangers inviting us into their homes. They were super nice, and clearly they have no idea how crazy we are...

Fast-forward to 2017:

About two weeks ago, Jackson was hit with a massive storm that had us really worried. The storm was epic – the mountain was closed for five days, 17 (!) huge power lines went down, and the town was literally falling apart (the Sheriff's office building was collapsing, and the Sears building is toast). Were the residents okay? How was this going to affect our stay? How did this impact L and F, especially since they had to navigate the Teton pass every day to go to work?

Luckily, all turned out okay for them, the town, the mountain and... our scheduled arrival.

Last night we had dinner together (this time sitting together at the same table 😊, and it was great to see them again and meet their newest addition – F's "mini me." Their son is SUPER cute, and it was wonderful to see L so, so happy. We look forward to getting together next year and seeing how much their son will have grown and changed.

The mini-me. What a cutie!

Since joining the Sportsmobile forum (aka “the forum”) a few years ago, 1der has met some really cool people (he has several bromances with a few members), and we've enjoyed meeting up with these fellow cult members.

Before leaving on our trip, 1der posted our plans on the forum and set the "bait:" if anyone happens to be in the same areas at the same time, it would be great to meet up." Well on our second day here, we got a tug on the line.

It was great to meet danhtran1143 and his family, who drove about 18 hours in his rig to get here. We skied a couple runs with him / them, and 1der met up with them for some after dinner beers.

Two days ago, we went up with them – via the famed tram – to the top.

We wanted to ski Corbet's Coulior, but unfortunately it was closed, so we were super bummed we couldn't conquer it. Yeah right – taking that "run" would mean instant death, and I'm not kidding.

We skied over to a ledge which enabled us to see the initial descent from a side-view. In case you're wondering why I didn't ski over to the actual entry and peer over the edge, it's because it was roped off. Otherwise I would have. Wadda think I am, insane?

Check out the entry into Corbet's Couloir. It's nearly vertical, and you can see it's a total cruiser with plenty of room to make multiple turns without having to contend with any obstacles. Haha!

Ah.... can we say pure insanity? Anyone who is remotely thinking about skiing that “run” better have phenomenal health insurance and a high-payout life insurance policy in place. I'm totally serious. Google this if you think I'm haha'ing or just kidding.

The official statement from Jackson Hole: Corbet's degree of steepness is nearly vertical at the top, thus creating the need to jump into the couloir. The slope then 'flattens' to 50 degrees. The overall average steepness is 40 degrees."

From Wikipedia: It is about ten feet wide at the entrance with rock faces on three sides, but opens up quickly. Entrance into the couloir requires dropping off a cornice with a free fall ranging from 10 to 20 feet (6.1 m) depending upon snow conditions and exactly where the skier chooses to drop in, landing in the fairly narrow couloir with rock walls on either side.

After our incredible brave display of courage (by whimping out and hiking up an incline to get the side-view), we turned around from our vantage-point and made our way to the main run.

Those little dots that look like people (wearing a blue jacket) are actually 1der and the others.

We skied from the top to the bottom, and unfortunately, our day and time with danhtran1143 was too short, as they were at the tail-end of their trip and wanted to leave Jackson a half a day earlier than planned to get a head start on their very long drive back to the Bay Area. We hope to meet up with them next time.

And ski Corbet's. NOT!

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Online dating leads to a bromance...

Last year while we were in Jackson Hole, we got together with shenrie (one of 1ders online bromances from the forum) and his long-time friends who live in Boise and other areas of Idaho. They have gathered every year for the past several decades to free-ride the terrain off the Teton Pass. They rent a house for the weekend in Victor, ID and spend their days piling into shenrie's rig (and another pickup truck) and taking turns being the shuttle driver while everyone else jumps off and rides to the bottom.

These guys look as tough as nails, but they're all sweethearts. This pic is from last year's "boys weekend."

It was luck that last year our schedules overlapped, and we had the pleasure of spending time with shenrie and his buds, who are all super nice guys. And it just so happened that this year, our schedules overlapped again, and since we are hanging out in Jackson for several days, we took a day off.

Instead of skiing, I broke out my snowshoes and went for a nice stroll up the same road that serves as the exit route for the guys after they ride the hill.

Trailhead for the Teton Pass Trail

It was a beautiful jaunt, and except for a few walkers and an occasional boarder or skier who passed me, I was all alone. On a side-note, one could simply walk up the path a short distance, but it wasn't long before the snow was too deep to navigate without snowshoes.

At one point, I saw some boarders coming down the "road." One of them enthusiastically said hello. It was one of the guys!

The guys ready to shuttle back up the hill after making a run. 1der offered to be their chauffeur so they could all ride at once.

I loved to see the light and shadows on the snow. The simple and elegant beauty of the winter shadows of barren trees reminded me of under-stated Japanese woodblock prints. The imagery was a stamp in time: when the clouds came, the shadows disappeared, and when it cleared, the shadows were different from before. Standing in one place for two minutes provided a unique window into the ever-changing winter.

I was snowshoeing along when I randomly stopped to look around. Prior to this stop, I always looked forward and down, but this time, I decided to look up.

What is this?

It's a bird's nest with snow on the roof! So cool...

I could not have planned this, nor could I have found it again, for when I turned around much further down the path and made my way back, I was not able to see nor find this again. I love it when happenstance events like this occur.

The turn-around point.

The lesson here: always remember to look up!

1. We met Heidi at our prior stop (Boulder). There's an outside chance 1der's Mom and uncle may know her Daddy as he grew up in the same hood as them. We're hoping that's the case.↩
2. 3/3/21: I was very happy when I read this article about coal-country Rawlins leveraging all that wind and moving away from coal. Yes!!! ↩
3. From my prior post about driving to Taos from Telluride, none of the nav apps, GPS or Google maps showed a major road was closed. This meant a long, out-of-the way detour. Argh!↩

We spent yesterday hanging out at Colorado Camper Van, and it was good for 1der to see Derek (the owner) and check out the new shop. Derek recently moved his operations to a new location, and it is really nice. And big! All the bays were filled with vans in various stages of production, and the parking lot was filled with vans, in the queue, awaiting pop-tops. These guys are busy!

Derek is a really nice guy; very easy going, calm and friendly. The shop has a good vibe, and Derek's demeanor sets the tone. Derek is the mechanical, engineering, production guy, and Matt, who joined the company a couple years ago, is the operations and sales manager and a great addition to the team. Like Derek, he's genuine and sincere, and he helps the business grow with his no-nonsense, process-oriented, systems-minded approach.

They made us feel comfortable all day and let us take showers (the shop has a nice shower - thank you Derek!) before hitting the road early evening for the 90-minute drive to Laramie, Wyoming, a good stopping / boondocking point on our way to Jackson.

We stopped at the Pilot Travel Center, a truck stop not known for it's cinnamon buns. One thing we're always cognizant about is our safety, and truck stops are usually good because typically, other trucks are stopped for the night, which means safety in numbers. But no matter who's around, we are very careful about where we park, and we do not exit Beastie unless we have to. Thank goodness for the Port-a-Potty, our sink and hot water!

Two really bad things about being around trucks: a) many of them idle their diesel engines for hours. Not only is this very noisy, it's really fume-y and horrible for the environment, and b) many of them leave early in the morning, so you get all kinds of trucks idling and accelerating all around you. Highly undesirable. We drove around the block and thankfully found a nice, quiet area to sleep.

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Today started out bright and sunny, and instead of going the way we went last year via Rawlins / Rock Springs, we wanted to go a different route as suggested by Heidi^[1], who was very familiar with the area. She recommended going by way of Rawlins / Landers and coming through the Bridger - Teton National Forest. This looked like a great route and would be even more beautiful than our "normal" route.

Last year, when we drove to Rawlins, it was SUPER windy. So windy that there was a high wind alert (gusts to 70 mph) and no travel for small vehicles and light-weight trailers. Even though we are not a small vehicle, we chose to stop at a rest stop for the night, and along with so many other cars and trucks, waited for the winds to die down the next morning.

This year was no different in terms of the wind^[2]. It was BLOWING super hard, and it was freezing. When we stopped at the same rest stop (as last time) for a bathroom break, 1der opened the door, and it was literally ripped out of his hand from the wind. At the same time, the lumbar support thingy flew out and went flying across the walkway. He yelled at me (actually scared the you-know-what out of me) just in time for me to turn around and catch the thing before it blew away for good.

This is the view pulling into the rest stop on the way to Rawlins, WY. This is a perfect example of the never-ending vistas prevalent throughout this landscape. It's vastly beautiful, but extremely harsh during the winter. Both times we've been here in the winter, it's been super cold with blasting winds.

This is the sign at the rest stop. Take a moment to read it. I felt good after I read it, because I was happy the animals could survive in this harsh environment during their migration (here) for the winter.

We passed the Continental Divide along the way. Busted! Is that a Johnson's Corner cinnamon bun hanging out and warming up on the dashboard???

Here are some beautiful cloudscapes. No matter how cold, windy and miserable it is outside, we have the best front row seats, all cozy, warm and comfy while moving along in Beastie.

Thank goodness for cellular technology so we could monitor the weather. It wasn't looking good at all.

Based on what happened on the way to Taos^[3], we were skeptical about the roads staying open. I checked the Wyoming highway website (don't rely on map apps, GPS and Google Maps if you want 100% accuracy, and it showed no road closures.

Luckily, we were able to connect with Heidi, and as our expert advisor, she confirmed our thinking — better to go via Rock Springs. Thank you, Heidi, for being available at the perfect time, for we were just pulling into Rawlins (the decision-making junction) when we got your text

Within an hour or so, it started to snow. It was blowing snow, and visibility started to diminish.

And then it snowed even harder. And harder. We were going very slow. It got so bad, we could barely see out of the window, and we had to pull over so 1der could clear all the ice from the windshield.>

Notice how I didn't say "we" got out to clear the windshield? I'm not taking credit for 1der's bravery and snow-clearing heroics. But don't think I didn't help out. Oh yes I did indeed! I stayed inside and blasted the defroster so the ice would melt. Someone had to stay inside to appreciate all the heat, and it might as well be me, right? Without my integral role, there would be no ice melting / windshield clearing. I was also making sure that cinnamon bun was getting nice and warm for 1der. Oh wait, he already ate it hours ago!

Long story short, we made it safely to Jackson, checked into the campground (Fireside, specifically the campground behind those cute, expensive cabins; we camped here last year), and it finally stopped snowing.

Total travel time was nearly eight hours, so we're very tired and need to get to sleep. Lot's of freshies tomorrow on the slopes. WOO-HOO!!!

1. Have I told you how I really feel about Krispy Kremes?😆 ↩

1derGirl's sourdough cinnamon rolls.

After dinner and gelato in Boulder, we drove an hour's north to Loveland, the hometown of Colorado Camper Van (CCV), the company that manufacturers and installs / installed Beastie's poptop (they also make all kinds of must-have bling for your rig).

It was pretty late, but there was one critical stop we had to make along the way: Johnson's Corner, the truck stop truly famous for its cinnamon rolls. We weren't buying them for ourselves; we were getting them for the CCV crew so they had some hot buns (hehheh) to greet them early on a Monday morning. You know, like donuts at the office on Friday. I personally think treats on Monday, especially not-too-sweet, gluten-free goodies, preferably home-made, are better to kick off the week, versus totally gross, super sweet, disgusting Krispy Kreme donuts on a Friday. I hate Krispy Kremes^[1]. If you really want an awesome donut, go to Schats Bakery in Mammoth or Bishop, CA (we always go to the one in Mammoth).

Shrekkie told us to go to LaMars donuts in Denver. You would think a cop would know what is a good donut. Sorry Shrekkie, in our humble opinions, we think LaMars donuts suck (we still love ya, though). But I digress...

I have to tell you a crazy story about Johnson's Corner. Flashback to many years ago... I traveled to Fort Collins to be the Maid-of-Honor at my friend's wedding. I flew into Denver (arriving at night) and was greeted at the gate by a 30-something-year-old guy holding up a sign with my name on it. I felt so important! Not really.

I was actually quite hesitant, for even though I knew my friend was sending a driver to pick me up and transport me 70 miles north, I had my sh*t detector in high alert mode. I'll spell it out: a single woman is going to get into a complete stranger's / unknown male's car, at night, in an unknown city and go on an unknown route. Alone. Right... For all I knew, this guy could be an axe murderer.

I figured if this guy was going to pull anything, I wanted to be the first to know and see what was coming. So as we approached the “town car,” (it was actually some generic, dark-colored four-door sedan), I said to him, “hey, do you mind if I sit up front?” He gave me a very strange look like, “no one's ever asked me that before, and why?” I immediately followed up with, “cause you never know, you might be an axe murderer.” He was mortified, and I cracked up. I rode shotgun.

Turns out he was a nice, polite guy, born and raised in Longmont, Colorado, the biggest town (population at that time was under 100,000) south of Loveland. We “got talk'n,” and if you know me, you'll know that eventually I'll start talking about my favorite “F” word – FOOD. It's one of my favorite subjects, after skiing, of course... Somehow the conversation naturally made its way to cinnamon buns.

Driver (very enthusiastically): “Why, the best cinnamon buns anywhere are on the way to Fort Collins.”

Now ya got my attention. Dude, slam on the brakes!

Me: “Really! How far, and what's the name of the place?

Driver: “Just up the road. A truck stop called Johnson's Corner.”

Me: “Are you able to make a stop? If so, let's get some. I'm buying.”

Driver: “Ok, thank you.”

A few minutes later, we pulled up to a nondescript truck stop, one just like out of a scene from a movie. If you go to Johnson's Corner today, the place is huge and really built up. It wasn't like that back then.

The deal was I would get the buns from the food counter / restaurant; he would get the beverages from the gas station mini-mart in the adjacent room. I wanted milk, he wanted soda. Milk and cinnamon buns are a great match, just like me and 1der. Cinnamon buns and soda are not a great match, just like diabetes and having a toe amputated as a result are not a good match. Enough said.

I walk into the restaurant. Mind you, I was producer from Los Angeles. An “ornamental,” as I've been called. Wearing a tank top and a floor-length, beautiful, batiked sarong (skirt) from Indonesia. Translation: I was a freak in those parts. Now a few sentences ago, I mentioned the truck stop was just like one in a movie. Well remember this scene from “Animal House?” You have to watch the clip before reading further...

I go up to the counter, and by now all the patrons have stopped eating and they, and the waitresses, are all staring at me. “I would like two cinnamon buns to go, please,” I calmly asked. I was so tempted to say this in my over-the-top, FOB (“Fresh Off the Boat”) accent I've come to perfect because I've been told one too many times by some frikk'n ignoramus, “you sure speak English good!” 🤬

I met Mr. Driver back at the car. We chowed down the buns, and I have to say, they were pretty darn good then and still darned good now ((I guess, since I can't eat them anymore due to a gluten intolerance). I slowly eased into my next question...

Me: “So... are there any minorities around here?”

Driver: “Yes! (Pause) We have Eye...Talians.”

He was dead serious. I'm thinking "Eye-talians? Is he really saying that, and does he really classify Italians as 'minorities?' " After a long pause...

Me: “Well, actually I was thinking more along the lines, of, you know, Asians, African Americans and Hispanics.”

Driver: “Oh, you mean those kind of minorities. (pauses) Hmmmm, let me think... (pauses) Actually we do! I've eaten at a Mexican restaurant once before.”

Before I knew it, we were in Fort Collins, and I bid farewell to my driver and expressed my gratitude for getting me safely to my destination. I genuinely liked the guy. He was very sweet and gentle. He wasn't racist at all; he just didn't have much exposure to all the colors in the rainbow.

Longmont and Loveland have changed so much since that time, and I bet there are plenty more Eye-talians now than there were all those years ago.

These are not the truck stop buns. I didn't take any pictures of anything Johnson's Corner, so you're stuck with MY buns. Heehee! These are my hot-out-of-the-oven sourdough cinnamon rolls I always bake for 1der and our house guests.

After our Dunes hike, we headed to Leadville, CO to spend the night and look around. Shrekkie loves Leadville, so we wanted to check it out and experience the "Two-Mile-High City" / "Cloud City." Leadville's elevation is 10,152 ft (3,094 m), which makes it the highest city in the US. It's a pretty small town, and it's actually a statutory city.

The drive to Leadville from the Dunes was super easy, which is so unusual for a drive to such a high elevation. In fact, 1der was amazed the roads were straight! We've never driven to 10,000+ ft (let alone 6,000+ ft) on a straight road.

Jim so graciously allowed us to park in his driveway to boondock and shower for the night. Shrekkie is our shower dude. A friend with benefits. Haha!

We pulled up around 10pm and were greeted by a total sweetheart — his son's girlfriend who recently moved to Leadville. I had a very nice visit with her, and I loved her response to some of my first words: "What's a nice girl from Arizona doing in Leadville, living at such a high altitude?" "Trying to breathe," she replied with a smile. Classic.

We woke up the next morning and were treated to the cheerfulness of the home's exterior. Since it was dark upon arrival, we couldn't see the house. It was so cute. The paint colors made you smile; actually giggle! A great choice for the environment, for I can only imagine how bleak it could be during a long, dark and snowy winter at that altitude. But it was a beautiful sunny day, so the purple / gum ball-colored house screamed SPRING is coming!

We drove through "downtown" Leadville and saw the sites. Translation: we didn't blink for 30 seconds. 😆

Leadville is an old mining town that flourished in the mid to late 1800's to become the most famous silver mining camp in the world at that time. Historians estimate that by 1890, nearly 30,000 fortune hunters came here to get a piece of the action. Some of them did really well, including H. A. W. Tabor, who built the opera house that still stands today and serves as the stage for current-day productions.

Across the street and kitty-corner to the Opera House is the Silver Dollar Saloon, which has a huge sign on the side of the building boasting in all caps “BEST WILD WEST SALOON IN AMERICA.”

Ok, knowing the history of Leadville, one might be convinced...

Until you examine the details and see that it's actually an... Irish Pub!

We left Leadville late morning and made the beautiful drive down the Tennessee pass, which gave us many spectacular views of the peaks (sorry, no pics), including Mount Massive, which stands at 14,428 ft (4,398 m), making it the second highest summit in the Rocky Mountains / state of Colorado, and the third highest summit in the contiguous United States. The drive was smooth and easy, and we eventually intersected with I-70, the heavily traveled and heavy traffic corridor for Vail, Breckenridge, etc. Luckily it was early in the afternoon, so we didn't get stuck in an end-of-day, ski-resort traffic jam.

Next stop, Costco! Normally I would not write about a trip to Costco, but something really funny happened there...

As usual, we parked Beastie at the back of the lot, and I took a few moments to gather the shopping bags before stepping out. When I finally got out, a couple was staring at me / us, and at first I thought they were upset with us because they had very serious looks on their faces. And then their outer fanboy / fangirl-ness came out in full force.

This is what we've come to expect, and we get a big kick out of it. As you might of have seen from our The Who page, this is the norm, and this day was no exception. I headed into the store while 1der continued to talk with them. Upon my return, he was anxious to tell me:

After I left, the man told 1der he didn't want to offend me, so he waited until I left to say that when he saw Beastie, he got so excited, he “got a woody!” OMG, how Hi-Larious is that! I am laughing just writing about this!

They want their own rig. They should name it Woody!!!

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In Denver, we met Shrekkie, his wife and one of their sons for dinner. It was so great to finally meet Shrekkie's bride (no, her name is not Fiona). Like Shrekkie, she is super nice, and they have a great dynamic and are clearly very happy together. We thanked her for letting us borrow her hubby for these past two weeks; hopefully she'll join the tour next time.

Their son was a cool dude, and I loved seeing how they all interacted. This is a close family, and throughout our time all together, I reflected on how wondrous it was for their relationships to evolve from parental to friends. Nonetheless, the comfort and nurturing their son still subtly receives from his parents was touching. Shrekkie often skis with his sons, and when they go, it's call the “man trip.”

We said our goodbyes and hopped in Beastie for Boulder, where we spent the weekend with friends we met through 1der's “online dating” site, the Sportsmobile Forum. Easy now, it's not what you think...

We met R, A and their son (L) two and half years ago at a Forum meetup over the holidays at Anza Borrego State Park. They drove all the way from Colorado to east of San Diego, and when they pulled up in their blinged rig, everyone kind of went nuts because of their Colorado Camper Van (CCV) pop-top. It's partially because of them that we went with the CCV top versus a Sportsmobile top. And if there's ever any question / contemplation, always go for the CCV top. End of story. Enough said.

They have a beautiful home in Boulder, and we hung with them for the weekend. The boys continued with their bromance, spending 24/7 talking about, you guessed it, vans! Beastie and his buddy got baths from their Daddys.

I was excited to spend time with A and get to know her better. She and their son L were out of town when we swung by on last year's tour, so we needed to make up for lost time.

We were also looking forward to connecting again with Scott, whom if you recall, we met on the gondola at Ajax. We had dinner with him and his friend, Heidi, and it was great to see him again and meet her. She's a cool lady: rock climber, mountain biker, skier. Intelligent, beautiful and super nice too; definitely ready for Prime Time.

There's an outside chance 1der's Mom and uncle may know her Daddy as he grew up in the same hood as them. Now how amazing would that be if that's the case?

The evening wound down with a walk from the restaurant to a gelato shop. L, who is 9 years old, put his jacket on backwards, and his father pulled his hat down over his face. With his arms crossed behind him, it looked like L was facing you (but his feet were pointed in the wrong direction!).

We crossed several blocks with L walking backwards, I mean forwards, or was it actually backwards??? ? Everyone passing did a double take, and we all got a kick out of watching their reactions. We were all amazed how well L was able to walk backwards, step off and up the curbs, and pull off this stunt. It was really funny when we got to the gelato place and his father took L's arm and broadly waved about stating, “I'll have one of those...” We all laughed, and then L finally revealed his true self for gelato. Yumsters.

Our stay in Boulder was great, and we appreciate all the material gifts given to us by R, A and L. But the best gift of all, we told them when hugging goodbye, was their friendship. Thank you guys!

Last night we stayed in the town of Taos, and in the morning, we said our goodbyes to Shrekkie.

We've had a great time hanging and skiing with Shrekkie the past (nearly) two weeks. We were all hoping to do more of the tour together, but he had to cut the trip short to attend to some business back home.

We will miss Shrekkie with his positive attitude and hilarious one-liners. He always kept us laughing, even in the heavy moments. The first time I got really emotional when talking about my Daddy, he was really quiet. When he finally spoke, he was very serious. “Hey, sorry guys. I'm a cop. I can't go there with the emotions unless I'm trying to get a confession.” Man, did that crack us up!

Shrekkie's been a vegetarian for many years, and he's in good shape and eats well. When 1der and I were chowing down on a hunk of animal protein after a hard day of skiing at Telluride, he comes out with this one when asked if he misses meat: “yeah, sometimes I think about sinking my teeth into a pig's ass, but it won't happen.” I'm laughing just writing this!!!

Shrekkie's the kind of guy you want to have as a friend: positive and upbeat, easy-going, gracious, kind, reliable, funny, a great person, and most importantly, he loves to ski! Sharing the last couple weeks with him has made the trip extra special, and we look forward to seeing him again and meeting his wife and one of his sons in a few days on our way to Boulder.

Thank you, Shrekkie, for your friendship, and most especially for letting us use your shower at every place you've stayed. Much appreciate it!

*************************

We cut our stay in Taos short by a day as the snow just wasn't compelling enough for 1der to ski another day. I would have gone, but 1der needed a much deserved break after yesterday's harrowing fall.

We looked at the map and decided to stop at Great Sand Dunes National Park and Preserve on our way to Boulder.

We've never been here — the tallest dunes in North America that lie in the San Luis Valley, just west of the Sangre De Cristo Mountains. The park is located in Southern Colorado, and it's such a unique and diverse landscape with amazing sand dunes that abut right up against majestic, snow-covered mountain peaks. It actually snows on the dunes, but it was dry during our visit.

The drive from New Mexico to Colorado was stunning, and the long views of Taos Ski Valley tugged at my soul.

Bananas Chimpos wanted to get in on the sign action.

Beastie wanted in too!

And so did Bananas Chimpos' “Gnome,” which was brought all the way, actually as part of a cereal box (with cereal!), to Alta from North Carolina by Mike. The "Gnome" might look familiar if you've ever eaten Choco Chimps (gluten free, Baby!) And if you don't find this to be Hi-Larious, well then I guess you “had to be there.”

About eight miles before entering the Park, we drove 3.5 miles up a dirt road to the Zapata Falls campground to hike to the Falls and camp for the night.

This was a real treat, as we had a spectacular campsite all to ourselves (almost... more on that later) with amazing views of the San Luis Valley.

The spectacular, frozen Zapata Falls. The image on the left is entry / rock crevasse into the falls.

We donned our snowboots and did a short hike in the snow to Zapata Falls. Outside of winter, one has to wade into a stream and navigate slippery rocks into a rock crevasse to see / access the Falls. For us, we just had to very carefully walk on ice. 😱

We had a wonderful, quiet evening at the campsite and went to bed early. In other words, a peaceful slumber in Nowhere's-Ville. NOT!!!

It was well after midnight when suddenly, a vehicle pulled right up to Beastie. We shot up from a deep, dreamy sleep and looked out the poptop window, shocked to see an SUV backing right up into Beastie's rear. Within seconds, the driver floored the gas and took off down the dirt road.

Our hearts were racing. What the you-know-what was that all about? Were we going to get ambushed by a bunch of drunken heathens who drove nearly four miles up a dirt road in the middle of the night to rob us or do much worse? We were now wide awake and extremely concerned. This is the first time, at least for me, I have feared for our safety while in Beastie.

We listened intently as we heard them re-enter the campground. We weren't sure what to think. Were they coming back? Did they have friends coming to join them? They stopped at the lower part of the campground and pulled into a site. Music was blaring from their car, and two people, a man and a woman, were talking loudly. Their dog was running around and barking. Great. Not exactly what you would classify as considerate, classy people.

1der got out the binoculars and was able to see them unloading their car. We were concerned more people were coming, and if their friends behaved the same, this could mean trouble. For 30 minutes, we laid awake, listening and watching. Eventually they settled in for the evening and we went back to sleep. What a bunch of freak'n inconsiderate, rude jerks. They ruined what would've been a super peaceful, serene evening. They also ruined the morning, as they were back at it, making a bunch of noise when they woke up.

1der took a walk down to them to find out what the heck happened. Turns out they didn't see us — were they that freak'n drunk??? And blind??? COULDN'T SEE US? Seriously? With the top popped up and all? It's not like we're running around / camping in a Smart Car!!! Helllooooo!!! 

When they backed up into our site and finally saw us, they got scared and hit the gas. Yet after all the commotion they caused, you'd think they would be considerate enough to speak in quiet voices and not disturb the serenity of the campground and their neighbors that they clearly knew were present. Like I said, freak'n inconsiderate, rude jerks. 1der was very nice to them; it would have been a different story if it were me who spoke with them...

*************************

We drove to the park and set off for a 3.5 to four mile round trip hike up to High Dune, the first dune on the ridge. In some ways, hiking these dunes are like hiking in the Grand Canyon. In the summer, you want to start your hike very early in morning or in the evening to avoid the deadly 150° F /66° C temperature of the dunes. Since it was in the mid 40's, we didn't have to worry about heat.

There are no trails, so you can go anywhere you want. This is a good thing and a very bad thing, especially for this guy, who was lost for five days in the Dunes and was extremely lucky to be rescued. They just found him yesterday!

We took our own route and trudged up the 700 feet of elevation gain and made it to the summit of High Dune in about an hour or so. It was tough to hike up the sand as one has to deal with slippage and sinkage with every step.

Getting to the top was so cool, figuratively and literally, as the wind was blowing and it was cooold. The 360 degree views from the top were spectacular.

We actually delayed the hike's start time to later in the day so we could get "magic hour" lighting.

Here's the view coming down the dune.

We had tons of fun coming down. Some people brought snowboards and others who rented sandboards to glide down the hill. We brought our own equipment...

Great Sand Dunes is a SUPER cool place, and we highly recommend a visit for everyone of all ages. We loved it and learned so much about this truly unique and extremely diverse landscape.

One of the things we love about our Beastie Adventures is the freedom to go exploring. We've discovered the coolest places "by accident."

Hurry! Pack, Bling Your Rig, and get here as fast as you can!

1. Dubie was one of the first responders who worked so hard to save my Daddy's life. ↩

Yesterday was another day of pure magic, and it wasn't just because it was Valentine's day.

Although it was a sunny day, the weather was less than ideal — very cold and very windy following a warm day. Translation: very slick conditions and blowing snow, which further translates into a free microdermabrasion facial treatment you don't want. Enough said.

So what to do? Hang out in the Mountain Collective office, that's what. Now what is that, one asks? Turns out Taos, in their revitalization rebuild, created a dedicated office for season pass holders and us Mountain Collective (MC) pass holders.

It's a really nice room with a fantastic staff who issues passes and creates an awesome customer experience. The best part? At the end of every day, they provide delicious fresh cookies, coffee, tea and hot cocoa for us MC people so we can meet, socialize and share our travels with other pass holders. Now how cool is that!

Taos' Mountain Collective Room

Shrekkie stayed in town as it made no sense for him to make the 18-mile drive to the mountain just to hang out in a room and have cookies. He had a great day exploring town, reading and relaxing at his hotel.

We used the room as an office and got caught up on some work. It was very comfortable and fun to talk to the awesome staff: Anee, Ross, Elle and Marsha. 1der met Marsha over the prior day's cookies and cocoa and told her about my Daddy. When I had a chance to meet her, her heartfelt hug and tears were so kind and sweet.

Marsha told me to check out the amazing artwork in the lobby and restaurant of the newly opened (The) Blake Hotel across the breezeway; museum-quality pieces, along with works from some significant Taos artists of their times. Marsha's husband is the Hotel's Director of Hospitality, so she was very familiar with the extent, quality and curation expertise put into the art pieces. I took advantage of the down day to have a visual feast.

I walked into the lobby and was immediately enveloped in beautiful Native American and pure vintage Taos artistry. Just as I was mentioning to the staff how my interest in the art was fueled by the Director of Hospitality's wife, a man walked in. "That's me!," he said, "I'm the Director of Hospitality." I explained why I was there, and he knew about me as Marsha had shared with him details about our encounter the day before.

Mr. Rose proceeded to give me an incredible, knowledge-filled tour of the lobby, spa (amazing and utterly beautiful) and the restaurant. The interior design was impeccable; a perfect blend of European design with Native American and Taos influences and textures.

I didn't take any photos because I didn't want to take even more of Mr. Rose's valuable time. I will have to come back, and when I do, I'll take lots of images and update this post. In the meantime, I hope my words paint vivid pictures.

With each turn and opened door, he explained the artists, the pieces and their significance. He described the incredible photos on the walls, some documenting historical, rare occasions when leaders of various Native American tribes gathered. I was fascinated and loved how the visages of these images were transferred onto the elevator doors in sepia.

The tour included explanations of the resort's evolution and development by Ernie Blake, and how several runs were named after some of Mr. Blake's World War II heros — Stauffenberg, Oster, Fabian, Tresckow — key members of the World War II German resistance.

When we were in the spa, my eyes welled with tears, and for a moment, I involuntarily stopped listening to Mr. Rose talk about the representation of the earth's elements in the design. My brain was too focused on the pure magic of this happenstance meeting, Mr. Rose's graciousness, and his gift of time and knowledge. I explained to him with a hug that all this was truly Life's Magic Dance.

After the tour, I brought him down to meet 1der. I was so excited to tell him all that had just transpired. My Daddy made this all happen. I'm certain of it.

**********************

We had another great day of skiing today, though 1der took a really frightening fall down the last third of Pollux. We came in through the trees of upper Castor, and as usual, we took our own lines. I came around a corner with a pretty big drop-off and saw a ski sticking straight up from the snow. I thought it really odd that ski patrol would mark a drop-off with a ski versus the usual bamboo pole. I skied a bit further and saw another ski and a nearby pole laying on the snow.

Wait a minute! These look like 1der's skis! I looked down and saw Shrekkie and 1der standing at the bottom of Pollux. Everything looked normal, but I was so far up, I couldn't tell if 1der had his skis on. “Are these your skis,” I yelled? “Yes,” he said, “and both my poles.” Yikes. That was a long, scary fall, and a full yard-sale at that.

I then had to pick up his equipment (truly a struggle) and side-slip down the rest of the run carrying his skis in one hand and his poles slipped onto the wrists of my other hand. Did I mention the run was very steep? A double diamond? With moguls? I can't imagine how scary it must have been for 1der to slide, on his back, head first, down a super steep run with trees all around. It truly is a miracle he did not get seriously injured or killed! We were all so thankful he was okay, though understandably, he was very shaken up and called it day.

Shrekkie and I skied the rest of the day with the plan to congregate in town for dinner with Dubie[1] after 1der and I paid a visit to Dubie's home.

If you had a chance to read the article (see page 51 here) about Dubie, you'll know he's a master plasterer. His home is his showcase, and what an artisan he is. He built every aspect of his home, and it's a beautiful labor of love. It was so cool to be in the place he's described in our many phone calls over the years, and I especially enjoyed being in and seeing the fantastic sun room containing all his plants and colorful, fragrant blooms.

I loved leaning against one of the walls, just as he had done for so many years after a hard day's work on the slopes. It was so warm after spending the day absorbing heat from the sun that illuminated his magnificent view of the mountains from his front door and living room windows.

Another delicious meal and the pleasure of Dubie's company. It was our last night with him, and I told him just how special it was to see and be with him. To put this into perspective, how would you feel about spending time with someone who did everything they could to save your most beloved father's life? The same hands that beautifully plastered those walls pumped my Daddy's chest to bring him back to life.

When I shared this with Dubie, he got choked up. “Your father,” he said slowly, gently, and with a pause to wipe a tear, “came off that mountain... with a pulse. ...And it's with all of us too.”

We look forward to the day when we meet again, our dear and precious Dubie.

1. You can read about Dubie (Dave Dubinsky) on page 51 here. ↩

The first thing we saw when got to the top of the mountain was the ski patrol headquarters. I had to go inside to pay my respects, because after what happened with my Daddy, I gained a deep respect and reverence for all ski patrollers on all mountains. They didn't ask any questions when they worked on my Daddy, they just did what they were trained to do.

The year after my Daddy died, 1der and I went to Taos Ski Valley and gave the entire ski patrol a big pizza party to say thank you for all they did to save the life of a man they knew nothing about. It was important for me to tell them how much I appreciated all they did, and equally important for them to know just who was this anonymous man and how much he meant to me and others. That was a very special and emotional evening, and I'm still in touch with one of the first responders.

When I went into the headquarters, I asked to speak to all of them. Of course they looked at me like what the heck does she want with all of us ??? Nonetheless, the dozen or so who were present gave me the floor, and I cried when I told them the story and how much I appreciate what they do. They were moved and relayed their deep appreciation for my words and sentiments. I ended by saying I would be honored if any of them could accompany us down the run where my Daddy went down. Two of them said they were going that way.

It was extremely hard to ski the very run where my Daddy basically died. Through my sobs, I could imagine an entire crew of patrollers, working assiduously and indefatigably, using a defibrillator and other life-saving techniques on his chest. The two patrollers, Shrekkie and 1der all quietly stood by as I wept. Even after all these years, I still pine for my Daddy. The black hole in my heart never healed; time has just enabled me to put the sorrow behind a door which rarely opens this wide.

***************************

The new snow was a real blessing as it has been weeks since the last storm and it's been really warm. But even with eight inches of freshies, the snow isn't so great. Thick on top, slick underneath. Nonetheless, we had a blast on our first day, skiing through the trees and discovering the mountain.

It's so cool to traverse into the trees. We enter all together, then separate to find our own lines. When we stop a bit below, we call out since we can't see one another. Shrekkie! “Yep, I'm here!” 1der! “Over here!” I particularly loved the one time when Shrekkie yelled out while skiing, “man, is this fun!!!” Indeed it is.

Later in the day I saw Leland (one of the patrollers who accompanied us on the run) outside another patrol hut. “Come on up,” he said. I was so happy to see Ralph (aka Raf), one of Daddy's first responders whom I vividly remembered from the pizza party.

“I remember that day,” he said quietly.

“Hopefully that was the last time you had a day like that,” I replied.

“Unfortunately there were two other times after your Dad. The third time was a charm.”

That was absolutely someone's lucky day.

Today was a special day in so many ways, and the evening was the best: we were able to see Dubie ^[1], another first responder who worked on my Daddy.

I've stayed in touch with Dubie all these years. Nearly every year on the anniversary of my Daddy's passing, I call Dubie to let him know I'm thinking of him and to thank him for all he did all those years ago. I haven't seen Dubie since that pizza party, and to give him a giant hug and share a meal today was awesome.

Taos is known to be a powerful, spiritual place, and for me, it's exactly that. It's hard to explain how being here is a homecoming, but it is, because I take comfort knowing it's where my Daddy took his last breaths, where my brothers and I came to say goodbye, and where he simply skied right out of his body.

1. My Daddy, who didn't speak a word of English when he came to the US when he was nine-years-old, overcame poverty by learning a new language, studying super hard (working three jobs while going to college) and eventually becoming an Anesthesiologist. He gave up that practice to move to the mountains / Lake Tahoe and be a General Practitioner / Family Doctor.↩
2. ... though I have been told that as much as I loved my Daddy, he loved me so much more. While it's incomprehensible to me that there is even deeper love than what I feel for him, I know this is the profound love a parent has for their child. ↩

I knew coming to Taos again would be extremely difficult.

Years ago, my beloved Daddy passed away on this mountain after experiencing sudden cardiac arrest while skiing. It was a beautiful bluebird day, and he was so happy to be back at Taos. He loved everything about being here.

It was his first run of the day, and he went down while warming up. Within minutes, ski patrol was on him, doing everything they could for 45 minutes to revive him. It was considered a successful, live rescue as they got him off the mountain with a heartbeat. But it was too late for his brain, and hours after being transported to the hospital in town, my brilliant, wonderful, amazing, awesome, incredible Daddy and best friend passed away.

I got the call when he got to the hospital. One can only imagine the shock. It was less than 24 hours prior that I took him to the airport, kissed him goodbye and told him how much I loved him. I spoke to him by phone after he arrived in Taos, and I was relieved to know he got in safely and was all settled in for the night. He was so excited to get on the slopes first thing the next morning.

When they told me he was in a coma, it was hard to comprehend what that meant. My naïve self thought he was peacefully sleeping, just like how they show it on TV (I assure you it was the supreme opposite), but I knew the situation was dire. I called our family and told them the news. How bad is it, they asked? In order to comfort me, they responded with all would be okay. My response: “no, you don't understand. This is the day I've dreaded my entire life.”

You see, words cannot describe the relationship between me and my Daddy. We were beyond close. He was my rock, and I was his baby. We spent so many wonderful times laughing, teasing each other, being super silly, and of course, skiing together. And this is when I was a young adult!

It's because of him that I can ski, and my love to ski is truly in my DNA. It's because of him that I can do so many things.

He was a great teacher, both on how to do things right, and what not to do in order to live a happy life. He never vocalized the lessons for the latter.

My Daddy had a hard life, born into an immigrant family and abject poverty. He sure knew what it meant be poor, cold and hungry, all while watching his first cousins residing nearby with lives full of luxury, full stomachs and warm, comfortable, soft beds. His grandmother could have provided his immediate family with the same luxuries, but due to belief in superstitions and pure cruelty, she refused. He was just nine-years-old when he learned what it was like to be on the receiving end of heartlessness.

Throughout his life he experienced inequality, prejudice and injustice. Unfortunately, the indignation and difficulties embittered him, expressed to those with whom he was closest.

When I was mature enough to understand this, it made / makes me profoundly sad, but his hardened heart taught me one of the greatest lessons in my life. He always would tell me “Carpe Diem” and “Don't let the turkeys get you down.” His motto was “To be in the mainstream is to mire in mediocrity.” These words are embedded in my soul, and I refuse to succumb to one of the greatest cancers in life — bitterness.

My brothers and I dropped everything and flew to the town of Taos, and we were all there when he took his last breath in the wee hours of the morning. This could not be real; this could not be happening. But this was the unfortunate reality.

I was so exhausted, but my mind and heart would not allow me to sleep. Finally, when I could no longer keep my eyes open, I fell asleep, completely confused and not able to comprehend that I would wake up and my Daddy was gone. I must be having the most horrible dream, I thought, and when I wake up, I will see it was just the Worst. Nightmare. Ever.

*************************

Flashback to a few months prior to that fateful day...

My Daddy wanted to go ice skating with me. He took up the sport just a few months prior and was so giddy about this new way of feeling the wind in his hair.

We arrived at the rink around noon and had the place to ourselves. He was like a little kid, showing me his adeptness while helping me un-cling from the wall.

I was very preoccupied and distracted by all the things I had to do at home and for work, and I wasn't present in the moment. After about an hour, I asked him if we could wrap it up and come back another day. While I could see the disappointment in his eyes, he lovingly said yes.

When I returned my rental skates, the guy behind the counter, who was familiar with my Daddy, said with a very puzzled tone, "Going home already? You just got here!" I explained I had too much work to do and couldn't stay. "Tell you what," he said. "I'm giving you a rain check so you can come back for free and skate with your Dad."

He gave me the rain check, and I tucked it away for the next time, which never came.

*************************

I would never again hear the hilarious jokes he would make up and deliver with his crooked smile breaking through only after he wryly delivered the punch line. I would never again get his advice on so many things. I would never again witness his deep compassion for his patients, whom he would often treat with so much care (he was a physician)^[1] without cashing their checks because he knew they had to choose between paying for his services or putting food on the table for their families.

Slowly I had to learn to live without him and my new reality, and in time, I was comforted knowing my Daddy died doing what he loved most. If he had written a script on how his life would end, I truly believed what transpired was that script.

He died with so many wonderful years left on the calendar, leaving all of us without the pleasure of his company or the gift to experience with him so many milestones that have occurred since his passing. And speaking of gifts, my Daddy got a 4x4 Pathfinder Van way, way back in the day. When he knew 1der and I were meant to be, he told me he wanted to give us the van as our future wedding present. Unfortunately he left us before we exchanged our vows, but his wedding present, our first Beastie, is truly the gift that keeps on giving.

As 1der so beautifully said, “he skied right out of his body.” I have always said his passing was so poetic, for the greatest gift that life could have given him was the way he died.

I've come to revise that statement: the greatest gift that life gave him, and me, is the profound, deep love we had for each other. Me and My Daddy — a bond so deep and so rare. He knew exactly how I felt about him, and I knew exactly how he felt about me^[2]. No thoughts were left on the table when he passed; no regrets for words never said. The only regret is not enough time on this earth together.

I wear my heart on my sleeve and live knowing life is truly short. I am not shy about professing my love for others and my love for life.

It brings me to my knees when I think about all the amazing experiences and adventures I've had, walking through so many journeys with the love of my life by my side. My Daddy never had any of this. And I have it because he gave me life and worked so hard so I wouldn't suffer like him. His passing continually inspires me to live life and love to the fullest.

I now choose my priorities wisely, and I relish equivalent ice skating moments. Sometimes things can wait, and sometimes they can't. While it's great to get rain checks, my Daddy's passing taught me just how much they can really cost...

The rain check, which I carry with me in my heart at all times.

Carpe Diem

Don't let the turkeys get you down

To be in the mainstream is to mire in mediocrity

Follow your dreams, and go forth always with love, kindness, respect, and passion (Oxford comma intentionally included!!! 😁)

❤️,

1derGirl

1. So far, we've hit Nevada, Utah and Colorado ↩
2. Unfortunately, some a-hole(s) always end up ruining a good thing. Perfect case in point was what happened at Squaw Valley. Their head of security told me they had to shut down camping in the back-lot because some campers were defecating in nearby Squaw Creek. WTF. Thanks a lot, a-holes... ↩

After a late morning, we left Ron and Patsy's beautiful home and made our way through the stormy weather to Taos, New Mexico. Visibility was poor and it was blowing, and just like they said last night, finding a place to camp for the night would have been a nightmare.

Just as we were approaching the very cute town of Rico, Beastie saw something and made us stop and take a picture. He also made us promise we would never put this in / on him: a chimney!

No need to worry, Beastie, we won't do this to you.

Now that's pretty funky, eh?

The journey to Taos would take us to our fourth state ^[1] on this trip. It's always fun to look for the welcome signs, and we always stop when we can. In this case, it was just a "drive-by shooting."

Welcome to New Mexico!

We planned our driving route with Shrekkie and figured it would take about six and half hours. He left a couple hours ahead of us and was making good time. Until he called to tell us one of the roads was closed. Ugh. The SNAFU was caused because every navigation app, the GPS and even Google maps - for us and Shrekkie - all showed the road was open. But the road has been closed since December! Arh.....).

The re-routing added another hour plus, so it ended up being a long drive. Moral of the story: don't rely on the apps, etc. Go to each state's traffic website and check the routes. If we had done that, we would've seen the road was closed from US 64 from mile marker 186 to mile marker 223 Tres Piedras.

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One of the great things about Taos is they allow "dry camping" in their parking lot. We really wish more resorts would allow this. Anybody listening??? But it's up to everyone to not ruin it for anyone else ^[2].

It was late and snowing pretty hard by the time we got up to Taos Valley Ski Village. A few inches were on the road, and we just made a guess on where we could park. Turns out we made a great guess, as one could not park any closer than our end spot next to a huge, long snow bank. We popped the top and hunkered down for the cold and snowy night.

One of the horrible things about dry camping in the parking lot of a ski resort is the noise. The propane heater of our next- door neighbor (translation: a camper parked two feet away) kept cycling on all night. That wasn't so bad, though it did require me to break out the earplugs. But then came the snow removal...

Imagine what it's like to be sound asleep, then be rudely awaken by numerous snow plows extremely loudly scraping the pavement with a snow plow just five feet from your bed / head. At four or five in the morning. Keep in mind the side of Beastie's poptop is canvas, so it's not like there's any insulation from the noise assault.

Snow plows were moving all the new snow and literally scraping the pavement all around us. In addition, every time they went in reverse, we were treated to the beeping sound just like a garbage truck. You know what I'm talking about. No ear plug or covering your head with a pillow can stop the torture.

After this was all finished, a stream of cars arrived, so there wasn't really a chance to go back to sleep (though somehow I was actually able to sleep through the back half of the snow plowing concert). Imagine our surprise when we woke up to find the plows removed that huge, long snow bank and created about 12 more parking spaces for the store merchants in the village. No wonder it was so freak'n loud!!!!

In spite of this, we were so happy with our spot and the ability to camp in the parking lot. A quick, short walk and we we're skiing on nearly eight inches of new snow!

This was taken at the spot affectionately known by the locals as "Joint Point." We're pretty confident you'll be able to figure out what used to happen at this intersection...

Christmas in February. The gifts and magic kept coming in Telluride.

We were all set to leave Telluride tonight to get a head start to our next ski-obsession destination, Taos Ski Valley, located in New Mexico's Southern Rocky Mountains. We wanted to knock off a couple hours of the 350 mile / seven hour drive, so the plan was to travel about 100 miles and find a place to camp for the night.

During our time in Telluride, the coverage was getting thin as it hadn't snowed in a couple weeks. How we wished for fresh snow! Unfortunately, timing wasn't on our side...

After another great evening with Ron, Patsy and Shrekkie, we said our goodbyes, and upon exiting the restaurant, the sky was puking big, wet flakes! For those who wish for more sophisticated language (engage British accent now): the sky released a profusion of stellar dendrites.

We rushed to Beastie to get on the road before it got too dangerous. A few minutes before our departure, a call came in from Patsy: the roads were quite slick, and it would not be a good idea to travel / drive over the Lizard Head Pass (elevation 10,222 feet / 3,116 m). Furthermore, finding a place to camp would be very difficult at night and in this weather, so please drive to their house and stay overnight. Ron would meet us down the road from their house so we could easily find their place in the dark. Needless to say, we were astonished by this incredibly kind offer and gesture of friendship.

We drove to meet Ron, and by the time we got to their house, there was already six inches of snow on the ground. Their long driveway was illuminated, and with the snowflakes coming down and the glow of amber lights emanating from the house, it was a winter wonderland. And then we stepped inside.

Simply beautiful. Stunning. Breathtaking.

We spent the next couple hours sitting and talking in front of a majestic, gorgeous floor to ceiling (spanning two floors) stone fireplace. The logs were popping and it was super cozy. I had to pinch myself several times to confirm all this magic was happening for real.

No words can describe just how special our days in Telluride have been. Thank you, thank you, thank you, Ron and Patsy, for all the gifts you've bestowed upon us. We look forward to many more awesome adventures camping, skiing and trekking with you two!