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Colorado Trip
Okay, I complied my whole trip into one stupidly long entry. This way it reads chronologically. If you've read all the entries, don't bother with this one. There's nothing new.
---Day I---
Holy crap is this a nice fucking hotel. I'm totally, fully, completely impressed. And that's saying something, considering how many nice hotels my job has taken me to. This one beats all. I'm right on the mountain - the view out the window is fucking gorgeous. And the room is fabulous! I have a gas fireplace in here! And, obviously, a little computer with free internet access. How cool is that?? It's really a romantic little room, which means it's pretty wasted on me being here alone. Ah well. Maybe I'll pick up that hot guy with the accent down at the registration desk.
And yeah, it's nice here. Temperature is fantastic. Won't use the A/C at all. Will need the blankets on the bed. I saw snow on the way to the hotel! SNOW! Can you believe that?? Totally tripped me out. This morning I was in the Devil's backyard and on the way here I was looking at patches of snow. I wanted the van driver to pull over so I could go bury myself in it like sand. Haven't seen any here at the resort yet, but I haven't really gone exploring. Will do that tomorrow after work.
So much stuff to do here! I need to investigate tomorrow. I want to look into the cost of the 1/2 day and full day rafting trips. I imagine they're all booked, but I'm going to see anyway. If so, I may just go take an hour or two horseback ride and then take the high-speed chairlift up to the slopes to hike. Ahhhhh Monday should be a good day. Shame I only have one down day. ::frown:: But strike isn't until 1 on Tuesday, so I could get some morning stuff in. Think I'll hit the pool for some early morning laps.
But I must get through load-in and install tomorrow. And I'm beat to death tired from travelling. But seeing my bro and sis-in-law was cool. No screaming, yelling, or crying. Some not-so-great pasta at a place they'll never go back to, but that's about it.
And now I must to shower and to bed. Stupid day tomorrow. Will post afterward.
I wish to the gods my friends could be here!!!
---Day II---
Whew. What a day.
I'm back in my room, finally, with a class of red wine. It's so nice out!! But I didn't get to spend any time in it today. I have to call in and touch base with my client at 11 tomorrow, but am free until then. I was going to go for a horseback ride, but if I wait until Tuesday I'll be able to schedule a two hour one, and that will be awesome. I may take the chairlift up to the top of the mountain for lunch tomorrow instead, but will have to wait and see what my client says in the morning. So I think I'll just sleep in and then bum around the pool or something.
I would go hiking in the morning, but I was attacked by an insane rabid 5' piece of truss first thing this morning. It leapt off the ground and clubbed me in the back of the ankle when I wasn't looking. Hurt like FUCK and made my whole foot go numb for a second. It was one of those pains where you can't say anything, can't even really breathe, and everyone is asking if you're okay. I just had to set the flat down, and sit down on the stage, gasping for air. Scared the crap out of everyone. I had lots of offers for people to go outside and swear for me. I think the fact that I wasn’t cussing a blue streak kind of made people nervous.
It's doesn't hurt quite so much anymore (unless I bend it wrong or brush it against something) but it is still hugely swollen and bruised. I think I may have chipped a bone in my ankle. If it's still bothering me when I get home I'll get it x-rayed. But okay, so I ask the hotel for an ACE bandage and, get this, they don't have any. A resort where, even off season, people mountain bike, hike, ice skate, in-line skate, etc. and they don't have ace bandages. How cracked is that? But they tell me they think they can find some off-season Ski Patrol guys to come help me out. All right, whatever, as long as they have a frickin' bandage!
After a little while, 3 of them show up. Helllllooooooo Ski Patrol! Nothing like having 3 hot, buff, sexy young guys fawn all over you and your poor wounded foot. Was rather nice. They stopped in later to check on me. We have a group hot tub date for tomorow night. (Bad 70s porno music playing in background.)
Tired though. Must shower, ice foot, and sleep. It doesn't throb, but does still ache. Will be good to get off it for a while.
---Day 3---
I'm free until 4:00!!! I'm outta here! Made reservations for a two-hour ride tomorrow and now I'm headed for the chair lift. My foot is better (though still swollen) and I was able to get another spare bandage from the Ski Patrol boys (thanks guys!) who agreed I shouldn't hike on it, but weren't surpised that I was going to. I'm only going to hike down, not that that's any better. Actually harder on your ankles. Ah well. I can't not hike here - it'd be so wrong.
Got a camera, so am throwing that in a bag with some Gatorade and water. Mountain trails here I come!
(I heard foxes barking last night. Cooooooooooooooooool.)
---later---
Home from hiking. Wow. I ache all over, but it was totally worth it. The ride up in the chair-lift was awesome. What a view!! It took me a little bit of wandering around to find the right trailhead, including a distracting few minutes talking to some mountain bikers, but I found it and set off. Twisty, narrow, and steep at parts, there was a lot of watch-where-you-put-your-feet. Since Overlook Trail is a hiking only trail, there are rocks and roots and logs and stuff. But I found a good stick and set out. Didn't have to go far before I saw a deer (elk?). Of course I didn't have my camera ready. I came around a bend and there he was, looking at me. He didn't move and I fumbled madly with my camera, but by the time I had it out and wound he was walking away. "Look, chick, you had your chance. I'm not going to stand here all day." He stuck to the trail, though, and was only walking so I followed close behind, trying to get a good shot. He stopped at one point and I was gaining, the picture was mere steps away, but then two hikers came out of the trees the other way and *poof* I got a good view of his backside. Damn damn damn. They apologized, we exchanged pleasentries and distance-to-go, and set off in our relative directions.
Took lots of pictures. Lots of wildflowers. Trees, pine and aspen (I think) mostly. Very pretty. Perfect weather. Down was tough on the body, but up would have killed me. Not in good enough shape cardio-vascularly, especially at over 10,000 feet.
A little past halfway or so, Allied Trail (a multi-use hiking & biking trail) cut across Overlook. Due to some maintenece further down the mountain, Overlook was closed the rest of the way and the detour down was Allied Trail to Cinch. I was bummed. I liked Overlook. So I stopped at the crossed paths, though still actually on Overlook, and pulled out my map. As I was frowing over it, I heard a bike coming. I looked up just in time to see a hot young guy whip by on a mountain bike. He smiled as he passed and tossed me a "Hey there, hot stuff!" Hot stuff? Who says that? I mean, I was flattered, don't get me wrong, it was just weird. And I totally didn't feel like hot stuff. Dusty, sweaty, gimping along on a sore ankle. But it was nice, nonetheless.
I plod on, accepting Allied Trail as my fate. The path was easier going with no roots or anything, but there was less wildlife. The mountain was pretty devoid of people, but I did see a few more sexy guys on bikes. If I have to lose my animals, I'll take sexy guys on bikes.
So I eventually came to Cinch and was even more disappointed. It's a dirt road and, as you probably guessed by the name, the easiest way down the mountain. I frowned and tromped my way down, though it was really just as well. My right calf and knee had begun to really hurt, as a result of them both compensating for my ankle, I assume. As I passed one of the currently-non-operating lifts, though, I remembered I wanted to hike Aspen Glade, a little one-hour hike with promises of wildflowers. I pull out my map. DAMN. Aspen Glade's trailhead was back up where Allied Trail met Cinch! Balls. I sighed, turned around, and tromped back up.
Cinch was easy going down, yes. NOT EASY GOING UP. I thought I was going to die. My knee ached and my lungs were about to explode. I couldn't stop - knew if I would I'd never make it. It was a long, exhausting hike up to Aspen Glade trailhead. I got there, though, and leaned on the trailhead sign and gasped for breath. What a wuss.
Okay, onward to Aspen Glade. Very pretty. Very steep. Lots of pain in the knee. Agonizing pain in the knee actually, like someone was hitting it with a ball peen hammer each time I took a step. Ow ow ow ow ow. But what can you do? I'm on a frickin' trail in the mountains. You just shrug, call yourself a total idiot for hiking on bad ankle, promise your complaining body tequlia in the hot tub with the Ski Patrol later, and tromp onward. Lots of pretty wildflowers. Another deer (elk?). I lost my t-shirt somewhere, which sucked. I had it tucked into the waistband of my shorts, but it vanished. I don't so much mind the loss, but I feel bad about unintentionally littering.
(Sidenote - in my 3 hours of hiking, I did not see one piece of litter or one spot of vandelism. It was fantastic.)
I lost the trail somehow at one point and wound up on Corkscrew, which is a bike only trail. Makes ya nervous to know that at any point some crazy guy on a mountain bike could come whizzing your way. I stayed off the path where I could and kept an ear out. Only one guy passed me, but I heard him coming and was able to move way out of his way. And MAN was he moving! Crazy. Looked like fun, though.
I finally made it back to the resort and dragged my crippled self up to my room. Long hot shower felt good. At one point I was sitting down, carefully washing my hurt ankle. I kept looking at it thinking "wow did I get dirty" and wondering if I just wasn't scrubbing hard enough. Then I realized I was trying to wash off the bruise. Duh.
I got the ballroom and hung around there for about an hour. They really didn't need me. Kind-of bummmed me out, I would have liked to have taken the lift up and then back down again. It was a pretty ride. But they served dinner which means I don't have to buy any and that's good. They said I could stay and watch the show (I guess there's some talent there) but I politely declined. Are they crazy? I have a date with the Ski Patrol! (Bad 70s porno music again.)
My knee is killing me. I think I might have fucked it up hiking today, which would suck. The hike up to the stables tomorrow is going to be rough. But I'll do it! I refuse to take the shuttle - it's too nice out. I may take it back down, though, in the interest of time as I have to be in the ballroom at 1. 12:30 if I want lunch. The ride ends at 12 and I should take a shower so I don't come in smelling like horse and trail dust.
Fun fun! But I am off. Must call in hours and then grab a drink and hit the hot tub. Of course, I used up all my film on the trail and so there are no shots left for the guys. Damn. Though it was a flashless camera anyway so they probably wouldn't have come out. If any of the shops were still open I'd buy another one, but they all closed already for some stupid reason.
Oh, though I wanted to do this. Animals seen on the trail today (not counting my entourage of insects or people at the trailhead):
•2 elk (deer?)
•4 squirrels
•1 fox
•2 rabbits
•many birds including one bold robin
•countless butterflies, including one overly friendly black and white one that landed on my shoulder and rode with me for a while
• 6 people
• 14 centaurs - though those could have been people on horseback
Was nice.
I did spend time in the hot tub with the Ski Patrol boys on day 3. Jessie, Cobey and Tobias-not-Toby. All mid-20s, all incredibly sexy, all muscular, two with accents (Cobey & Tobias). We sat in the hot tub and drank tequlia sunburns and talked. Nice guys. Keep in mind now though, that they are all used to having a hot tub full of giggling snow-bunnies each. I was merely someone to sit and hang out with - this was never going to be some bad 70s porno, contrary to the background music. Really fun guys. I heard lots of stories of ski accidents and such. We stayed in the hot tub until we were wrinkled prune-people and then changed into sweats and moved over the fire to roast marshmallows with the pack of children there. Very low key, very nice. When it came out I was leaving on Wednesday, Tobias told me he had to drive into Denver to pick up his dirt-bike there anyway, did I want a ride? Are you kidding? Rather than sit in the 10 passenger van? Count me in! Around 10, the guy came and doused the fire, like he always does. We all had to be up somewhat early so we parted company, me making plans to catch up with Tobias Wednesday morning.
--Day IV--
Started out with a 2-hour horseback ride. The walk up to the stables wasn't bad at all. My knee was feeling a million times better. Walking uphill was much easier on it, too. There were nine of us in the trail ride, plus two "wranglers" both hot guys, one with an accent. (I think it's a law that you must be totally sexy to work at that resort.) Chris (with the accent - Canadian) was saddling up the horses while Cricket (good ol' American cowboy) looked over our paperwork and asked about levels of experience. I have tons. No one else had any. Chris and Cricket exchanged a look when this came out. Then Chris brought over a fiesty looking gledling that I'd been eyeing and waved me over. He introduced me to Harley (the horse) and held the reins while I swung into the saddle. Then I waited and waited and waited for them to get the other eight saddled up. Six of the eight required a step to stand on to get up on the horse. One of those six also needed a leg up. I tried not to be a snob about it or anything - you gotta start somewhere, right? I was a little disappointed. A trail ride composed of new riders won't hold anything wild and crazy riding-wise. Ah well. We went through a whole crash-course in riding (how to stop, turn, back up, go, etc) and set off. Cricket led, the other eight fell in behind, I follwed them, and Chris took hind-horse.
It was a pretty ride, I must say. We wound through trees on horse-only paths. Very nice. Perfect weather too, of course. The horses plodded along at a stroll so I kicked my feet out of the stirrups and let them hang. Chris took no notice or, if he did, thankfully didn't chastize me, though I'm sure his boss would have wanted him to. I'm more comfortable that way - hate Western stirrups unless I'm doing some real cowboyin'. (Though I must say, it had been a long time since I'd been in a Western saddle and boy, do I feel it now.) About fifteen minutes into the ride, we came to a pretty steep dip in the trail. Cricket stopped everyone and explained how to handle it: hold your horse back so only one rider goes at a time. The horses may break into a trot, don't worry, they'll stop soon enough. Lean back. Hang onto the saddle-horn if you have to. Okay. Let's go.
Cricket goes, seven others follow with various laughs and cries of distress. The woman in front of me got all spaztic when she saw the horse in front of her take the dip and then fall into a little trot to get back up the other side. She started pulling back on the reins, signaling her horse to back up. It did, right into my horse whom I was letting get a snatch of grass at the time. Harley spooked and nipped her horse who kicked and leapt forward, his rider screaming like she was being hacked to death with a machete. When her horse kicked, Harley reared. So here I am, in the saddle, no feet in the stirrups, on a rearing horse. Thank the gods I'm an experienced rider. I had the reins in my right hand, directly in front of the horn so I was able to both leave Harley a slack rein and grab the pommel with that hand. Body responded before brain (thanks old riding teachers!): legs went up slightly and gripped horse tight, back stayed straight, body tilted foward and up over horse's shoulders. I managed not to send horse or rider crashing into the trees or down the mountain. Harley landed (crashing me back into the saddle - ow), shied a little, then settled down.
Now I'm shaking like Hell, adreneline pumping hard enough to almost short circuit my brain, and trying not to scream at the stupid bitch who caused the whole problem. Everyone is gasping, Cricket is calling back for a damage report, Chris is already off his horse and at my side, Stupid Bitch is in tears. I'm calming Harley down, trying to calm myself down, Chris is running his hands over Harley to check him out, Cricket is now off his horse and coming back to us. He stops to check on Stupid Bitch. I keep telling Chris that Harley's okay, I'm okay, it's all fine. Cricket and Chris exchange a look, then Cricket goes back to his horse, saddles up, and leads the others on down the path. Chris is still fussing with Harley and my saddle, I'm insitent that we're both fine. He finally looks at me and tells me to just hush for a second. I do, irritated. Finally, satsified, he mounts up, turns Scout around, and waves for me to follow. I'm thinking, What?? The horse is fine! Why the Hell are we going back to the stable! Godsdamnit!" I'm fuming, but silent. He says nothing either.
After a few minutes, we come to a side path I hadn't noticed on the ride out. He takes it. I'm confused. He looks at me and laughs then tells me he thinks I deserve a private ride after that. Says I'm obviously experienced, besides he thinks I might kill Stupid Bitch. I agree, laughing, and we set off. EXCELLENT! My own privately lead trail ride! How cool is that?!
The ride from then on was excellent. Chris has an incredible eye and pointed out two elk, a handful of foxes, a porcupine, and two bears(!) which was indescribebly cool. We didn't talk much at all, just rode along in silence, him pausing to point out some flora or fauna or tell a little story about some part of the trail. Most of the trail was rocky and close, so there wasn't much space for anything other than a steady walk. At a few points, though, we were able to break into a trot or gentle lope when crossing the flat streches of the grassier ski-slopes. So cool. So much fun. On the way back to the stable, I offered to buy Chris a drink at the hotel bar later as a thank-you. He agreed. We got back to the stables with just enough time for me to help unsaddle Harley, dash down to my room, change clothes, wipe off some of the trail dust, and beat feet to the ballroom to go to work. Whew!
Strike went flawlessly. Everything came down quick and easy, no one got hurt, the driver was there with the truck exactly, on time, everything fit, nothing got lost, it was great. Oonga - put stuff in truck, watch truck leave. I like it when it goes like that.
Afterward, all the clients and techs (not local labor) went out for a quick celebratory drink, then back to rooms to shower and change, then down to the vilage to the Golden Eagle Inn for a fancy shmancy dinner. Was stupendously yummy. Most of the guys had elk, which I tasted for the first time. Tastes a lot like beef, just a little sharper flavor. Good though. I had the special which was some local, fresh-water fish. Excellent. We all shared a very nice bottle of $30 wine, then had lots of dessert. Expensive, but worth it.
(Sidenote - funny story from dinner. Peter, one of my client's clients, is a sweetheart of a guy. Really mild-mannered, just fantastic fellow. Can't say enough good things about him. Looks like he would be a very relaxed, non-threatening guy. Which he is. Anyway, he told us this story about this one flight he took cross-country. He had already sat down in his seat and this older woman of about 60 or so (Peter's in his 40s) gets on and sits next to him. They exchanged smiles. A few minutes later, a young woman came on with a baby that was screaming like a banshee and sat a few rows back. The older woman next to Peter turned to him and said "And now the flight is ruined for all of us." Peter sat there, not quite sure what to say, for after all, what do you say to that? So as not to be rude and not reply, he said the first thing that popped into his head which was "You're right. We should kill it." The woman stared at him wide-eyed, then turned away and didn't even look at him for the rest of the flight. I thought this was hilarious - about wet my pants.)
During the course of the show, I made pretty good friends with the guy from Masque Sound, Stephen, who was also up there from Phoenix. He moved to Phoenix recently (from Portland - foolish boy!) and doesn't know too many people yet, so we chatted rather a lot. Really nice guy. Like him lots. At dinner, we made plans to meet at the firepit for wine and s'mores at about 9:00. (Which was a good time for me, as that gave me about an hour and a half to hang out with Chris before Stephen came down.) When dinner was done and we were all sated, there was much hand-shaking, hugging, thank-yous, we-gotta-do-this-again, see-you-next-show, great-job kind of stuff, then we parted company. Everyone went to their rooms and what not, I wandered over to the lift-ticket office to meet Chris. We decided against the hotel bar and instead went to a little place down in the village by the ice rink.
(Sidenote: "The village" is basically part of the whole resort, though the property is not owned by the Hyatt. But it's right next door. I mean RIGHT there. You walk out of one door of the resort to the ice rink and the rest of the village rings that rink. It's all shops and restaurants and stuff. Cool little place.)
Chris and I had some beers there, mostly a locally brewed one called "Road Dog" that I highly recommend if you can get your hands on it. Very yummy. He's a fantastic guy. Adored him to pieces. Totally bummed out that he lives in frickin' Colorado. We sat outside on the patio even after it started to rain. Thunder, lightning, the works. I was thrilled to death at the rain, clapping my hands like a kid, and Chris was so amused at me that he put up with the stray drops that slipped in and splashed us from time to time. We hung out for about an hour until I said I should go meet Stephen and revise our fireside plans. Chris offered to walk me in. I accepted.
We paid and left and were walking back toward the hotel when Chris grabbed my hand and lead me over to the ice rink. Mind you, it's still raining and, in fact, beginning to sleet a little, and the rink has a layer of water across it. Chris smiled at me and we took a running start and slid across the ice, sending waves flying off our shoes. It was excellent. I felt like a kid, laughing like a fool, soaking wet, sliding across water-covered ice rink, getting absolutely pelted by rain and sleet. We ran and slid and fell and just generally had a good time of the whole thing until we were both shivering which is when we made our mad dash to the hotel. We got in the doors and stood there breathless, giggling, and dripping on the carpet. Since he had no change of clothes, we squished our way up to my room where he put on one of the big fluffy bathrobes in my closet. Thankfully, guest laundry was right across the hall so we threw his clothes in the drier. I put on sweats and the other bathrobe so Chris wouldn't feel silly, and we made our way not-so-squishingly down to the lobby bar. Normally they require proper attire, but I think the rain caused an exception. We got some hot chocolate and schapps and went back up to the room to wait for his clothes to dry. My room had a gas fireplace, so we lit that and sat on the couch and talked.
(Yes, just talked. Nothing happened, despite the romantic conditions, fluffy bathrobes, and obvious serious attraction. So don't go thinking anything like that. I can't explain why not... it was like something would have been ruined. Like it would have cheapened the whole thing into a one-night-stand. And it was and unspoken, understood agreement that we shouldn't let that happen.)
Anyway, once his clothes were dry, he changed back into them. By this time, the rain had totally stopped and the fire was lit outside. We walked out to the fire, he hugged me and gave me a kiss on the cheek, and we said goodbye. A see-you-next-time, if-you're-ever-in-Phoenix-look-me-up, okay-take-care kind of thing. No phone numbers exchanged, no email, nothing. Strange, but really neat. I actually really liked leaving it like that. I have such a spectacular memory of him and nothing will ever be able to mar that.
I don't know, it was like I crossed paths with a soulmate from another life. Or something. I can't explain it. And I can't explain why it's good that it ended like that, so tied off, so final, but it is good. Just one perfect day to be remembered, with no chance of either of us doing anything in the future to fuck that memory up. I am pleased.
So! Chris and I parted ways for the evening. I watched him walk off then went inside to get another drink. I had just sat down at the bar when Stephen came downstairs. AH! Perfect timing! We got our drinks, I grabbed a marshmallow-roasting-stick from the pile at the door, and we went out to sit by the fire. We were only there for about an hour before the fire-douser-man showed up, but it was a good time. He and I chatted some more and two drunk 40-something women lead us all in Girl Scout Campfire songs. We made s'mores and I learned that I have a two s'more limit at this point in my life. They were yummy though.
Once the fire was out (with lots of booing from those assembled), Stephen and I went back inside, said goodnight, exchanged numbers (since he's local) and went to our rooms. I had just kicked off my shoes and started packing when the phone rang. It was Jessie, he was glad he had caught me, meet him and Cobey at the chairlift in fifteen minutes wearing jeans and tennis shoes, okay? Good. -click-
Huh?! Okaaaaaaaay. So I do.
I got to the chairlift and it was running, which confused the crap out of me since it closes at 4:30. But Jessie and Cobey were there, along with two other guys, strapping mountain bikes onto the backs of chairs and sending them up the mountain. Jessie smiled and tossed me a bike helmet. That's when I started getting nervous. Then Cobey grabbed my hand and pulled me over to the lift. We got on, he called back to the other guys that he'd see them at the top, and off we went.
So there I am, sitting on a chairlift next to a Ski Patrol boy, in the pitch black middle of the frickin' night (okay, only 10:30, but still dark as the pits of Hell). I'm holding a bike helmet. Things are so far out of my control at this point. I see where this is going and I'm pretty freaked out about it. Excited, but freaked out.
Cobey was beside himself he was so jazzed. He explained it all to me on the way up the mountain. One of the guys back down on the ground worked for the resort and the other (Doug) was training to compete in some extreme adventure race/competition 1001-ways-to-die-on-a-mountain thing. I guess one of the legs of the whole thing is a 24-hour bike ride. Consequently, he's got to be able to ride at night. So the not-competing guy got permission from the resort to send Doug and some friends up the mountain on the lift so they could ride down some of the trails for practice. I guess the resort is somehow involved with the event which is why they said okay or, oh hell, I don't know, they let them, for whatever reason. And the guys decided to drag my crippled ass along for humor value, I guess.
Anyway, we got to the top where this other guy, Paul, was waiting. He'd gone up first and taken the bikes off as they came up. Then Cobey and I got there, then Doug and Jessie. Once we were all there, with bikes, Paul radioed down to the resort-dude and he shut the lift down. ACK! Now I'm stuck. And committed. And terrified. But what the Hell, right? All the bikes had bright-ass lamps on them and Doug's helmet had one too. So we mounted up, switched on, Doug took the lead and we headed down the mountain.
I have never done anything so eerie and scary in my life. You can't see shit. It's fucking dark. Yeah, we've got lots of lamps, but Doug is the only one with one on his head. None of the rest of us can really swing our lights around. And there are lots of animals in the woods. Including bears. I know this 'cause I saw them. And yeah, they probably won't attack, and you know that, but it seems totally likely when you're in the pitch-black dark, let me tell you. And we're moving pretty fast down this hill. Well, Doug is, and none of us want to get left behind to get eaten by bears, so we're following pretty close. Which means if so much as a squirrel runs in front of Doug, we're in for a seriously painful, multi-bike crash. And there are lots of squirrels in the woods, too! I could visualize the whole thing. Squirrel runs out in front of Doug, he is starteled, wipes out, all the rest of us pile onto each other. Then there we are, stuck in a bleeding, multi-spoked heap on the side of a mountain in the frickin' middle of the night. Bear food for sure. And whose going to come help us? I'm with the Ski Patrol guys!!
It was fucking weird, that's all I can say. Fun, very very fun, but weird. And scary. Fast, dark, bears, bikes, potential life-taking squirrels. Scary shit. But fun. Freaks me out just remembering it.
I recommend it. I think...
--At Home--
I'm home. Bills, junk mail, and one personal note are piled on the table waiting for my letter opener. The answering machine blinks 11 new messages. A pile of receipts from the past few days are heaped on my desk, waiting to be entered into my registry. Paperwork lies in a folder, awaiting my attention. The cats are pleased to see me and mew as they weave their silky, furry little bodies around my legs. Tossed upon my bed are shot glasses wrapped in paper and miscellaneous gifts tucked into shopping bags. Lying beside them are my cameras, packed full of undeveloped images of Heaven. My clothes are piled in the washer, merely a knob-turn away from being rinsed clean of their smells of woodsmoke, Colorado mountain air, sweat and trail dust. My whole body aches, partially from work, mostly from fun. It is a pleasant ache, the feeling of muscles used hard, the feeling of having truly lived. It is hard to believe that I awoke this morning in a different bed, in a different state both physically and mentally. Harder still to know that, less than 24 hours ago, I was holding hands with a man I barely knew and laughing with sheer, raw, unfettered joy as we slid, pelted by rain and sleet, across a wet ice rink nestled in Vail Valley.
I can close my eyes and see it all. I know that it is after 4:30 there and the chairlift has closed for the day. People are still on the moutain, hiking or biking their way downhill, and the last of the trail rides is headed back to the stables. A man stands in the firepit outside the Antler Bar and carefully piles pinon logs in a neat stack, just waiting for someone's request to light the blaze. It will not be too long in coming. A young, well-built, sexy blonde man from Canada wearing a pair of bright blue swim trunks waits by the pool. In a few minutes, he will reluctantly shoo the laughing children out of the water so that he may get in and hang up the ropes the create lanes for the adult-only swim from five to seven. A handful of happy, weary hikers sit in one of the jacuzzis, sipping glasses of red wine, waiting for their companions to join them. They do not know that their friends are sitting quietly on the mountain side, mountain bikes leaning against trees, watching in wide-eyed pleasure as a family of elk stolls past them. Couples sitting by the pool discuss plans for dinner. The tarp above the ice rink is slowly pulled back. Day camp is winding down and parents are coming out from the spa to gather their children. The shops in the village are crowded. New guests are arriving, seeping in slowly through the front doors of the lobby and checking in at the desk. Their eyes sweep across the bar, noting the fantastic chandelier of naturally-shed antlers, and coming to rest out the wide, thick glass windows at the view of the pine-covered mountains.
Four men in their early 20s are just making their way down from Beaver Lake. They stroll toward the stables where they will vear off, then hike back up the mountain to Spruce Saddle Lodge (elevation 10,200'). One stops to point out an eagle soaring past at eye level. They will arrive at the lodge to collect their mountain bikes, which they sent up earlier in the day, strapped to the backs of seats on the chairlift. When darkness falls, they will switch on their blindingly bright headlamps and bike lamps and ride down the unpaved road toward the main lodge at the base. They will ride faster than any who seem the approaching would believe. Tipsy guests sitting around the fire later will cheer as the bikes whip past.
A young couple looks out the windows of their suite. The man points to the rocks outside where a family of foxes is known to play. His left hands rests on the small of her back and he brushes his pants pocket with the other, feeling for the ring box. He hopes she will be surprised later when he pops the question over elk medallions and expensive red wine at dinner.
It is a magical place to me. I will always think of it fondly.
---Day I---
Holy crap is this a nice fucking hotel. I'm totally, fully, completely impressed. And that's saying something, considering how many nice hotels my job has taken me to. This one beats all. I'm right on the mountain - the view out the window is fucking gorgeous. And the room is fabulous! I have a gas fireplace in here! And, obviously, a little computer with free internet access. How cool is that?? It's really a romantic little room, which means it's pretty wasted on me being here alone. Ah well. Maybe I'll pick up that hot guy with the accent down at the registration desk.
And yeah, it's nice here. Temperature is fantastic. Won't use the A/C at all. Will need the blankets on the bed. I saw snow on the way to the hotel! SNOW! Can you believe that?? Totally tripped me out. This morning I was in the Devil's backyard and on the way here I was looking at patches of snow. I wanted the van driver to pull over so I could go bury myself in it like sand. Haven't seen any here at the resort yet, but I haven't really gone exploring. Will do that tomorrow after work.
So much stuff to do here! I need to investigate tomorrow. I want to look into the cost of the 1/2 day and full day rafting trips. I imagine they're all booked, but I'm going to see anyway. If so, I may just go take an hour or two horseback ride and then take the high-speed chairlift up to the slopes to hike. Ahhhhh Monday should be a good day. Shame I only have one down day. ::frown:: But strike isn't until 1 on Tuesday, so I could get some morning stuff in. Think I'll hit the pool for some early morning laps.
But I must get through load-in and install tomorrow. And I'm beat to death tired from travelling. But seeing my bro and sis-in-law was cool. No screaming, yelling, or crying. Some not-so-great pasta at a place they'll never go back to, but that's about it.
And now I must to shower and to bed. Stupid day tomorrow. Will post afterward.
I wish to the gods my friends could be here!!!
---Day II---
Whew. What a day.
I'm back in my room, finally, with a class of red wine. It's so nice out!! But I didn't get to spend any time in it today. I have to call in and touch base with my client at 11 tomorrow, but am free until then. I was going to go for a horseback ride, but if I wait until Tuesday I'll be able to schedule a two hour one, and that will be awesome. I may take the chairlift up to the top of the mountain for lunch tomorrow instead, but will have to wait and see what my client says in the morning. So I think I'll just sleep in and then bum around the pool or something.
I would go hiking in the morning, but I was attacked by an insane rabid 5' piece of truss first thing this morning. It leapt off the ground and clubbed me in the back of the ankle when I wasn't looking. Hurt like FUCK and made my whole foot go numb for a second. It was one of those pains where you can't say anything, can't even really breathe, and everyone is asking if you're okay. I just had to set the flat down, and sit down on the stage, gasping for air. Scared the crap out of everyone. I had lots of offers for people to go outside and swear for me. I think the fact that I wasn’t cussing a blue streak kind of made people nervous.
It's doesn't hurt quite so much anymore (unless I bend it wrong or brush it against something) but it is still hugely swollen and bruised. I think I may have chipped a bone in my ankle. If it's still bothering me when I get home I'll get it x-rayed. But okay, so I ask the hotel for an ACE bandage and, get this, they don't have any. A resort where, even off season, people mountain bike, hike, ice skate, in-line skate, etc. and they don't have ace bandages. How cracked is that? But they tell me they think they can find some off-season Ski Patrol guys to come help me out. All right, whatever, as long as they have a frickin' bandage!
After a little while, 3 of them show up. Helllllooooooo Ski Patrol! Nothing like having 3 hot, buff, sexy young guys fawn all over you and your poor wounded foot. Was rather nice. They stopped in later to check on me. We have a group hot tub date for tomorow night. (Bad 70s porno music playing in background.)
Tired though. Must shower, ice foot, and sleep. It doesn't throb, but does still ache. Will be good to get off it for a while.
---Day 3---
I'm free until 4:00!!! I'm outta here! Made reservations for a two-hour ride tomorrow and now I'm headed for the chair lift. My foot is better (though still swollen) and I was able to get another spare bandage from the Ski Patrol boys (thanks guys!) who agreed I shouldn't hike on it, but weren't surpised that I was going to. I'm only going to hike down, not that that's any better. Actually harder on your ankles. Ah well. I can't not hike here - it'd be so wrong.
Got a camera, so am throwing that in a bag with some Gatorade and water. Mountain trails here I come!
(I heard foxes barking last night. Cooooooooooooooooool.)
---later---
Home from hiking. Wow. I ache all over, but it was totally worth it. The ride up in the chair-lift was awesome. What a view!! It took me a little bit of wandering around to find the right trailhead, including a distracting few minutes talking to some mountain bikers, but I found it and set off. Twisty, narrow, and steep at parts, there was a lot of watch-where-you-put-your-feet. Since Overlook Trail is a hiking only trail, there are rocks and roots and logs and stuff. But I found a good stick and set out. Didn't have to go far before I saw a deer (elk?). Of course I didn't have my camera ready. I came around a bend and there he was, looking at me. He didn't move and I fumbled madly with my camera, but by the time I had it out and wound he was walking away. "Look, chick, you had your chance. I'm not going to stand here all day." He stuck to the trail, though, and was only walking so I followed close behind, trying to get a good shot. He stopped at one point and I was gaining, the picture was mere steps away, but then two hikers came out of the trees the other way and *poof* I got a good view of his backside. Damn damn damn. They apologized, we exchanged pleasentries and distance-to-go, and set off in our relative directions.
Took lots of pictures. Lots of wildflowers. Trees, pine and aspen (I think) mostly. Very pretty. Perfect weather. Down was tough on the body, but up would have killed me. Not in good enough shape cardio-vascularly, especially at over 10,000 feet.
A little past halfway or so, Allied Trail (a multi-use hiking & biking trail) cut across Overlook. Due to some maintenece further down the mountain, Overlook was closed the rest of the way and the detour down was Allied Trail to Cinch. I was bummed. I liked Overlook. So I stopped at the crossed paths, though still actually on Overlook, and pulled out my map. As I was frowing over it, I heard a bike coming. I looked up just in time to see a hot young guy whip by on a mountain bike. He smiled as he passed and tossed me a "Hey there, hot stuff!" Hot stuff? Who says that? I mean, I was flattered, don't get me wrong, it was just weird. And I totally didn't feel like hot stuff. Dusty, sweaty, gimping along on a sore ankle. But it was nice, nonetheless.
I plod on, accepting Allied Trail as my fate. The path was easier going with no roots or anything, but there was less wildlife. The mountain was pretty devoid of people, but I did see a few more sexy guys on bikes. If I have to lose my animals, I'll take sexy guys on bikes.
So I eventually came to Cinch and was even more disappointed. It's a dirt road and, as you probably guessed by the name, the easiest way down the mountain. I frowned and tromped my way down, though it was really just as well. My right calf and knee had begun to really hurt, as a result of them both compensating for my ankle, I assume. As I passed one of the currently-non-operating lifts, though, I remembered I wanted to hike Aspen Glade, a little one-hour hike with promises of wildflowers. I pull out my map. DAMN. Aspen Glade's trailhead was back up where Allied Trail met Cinch! Balls. I sighed, turned around, and tromped back up.
Cinch was easy going down, yes. NOT EASY GOING UP. I thought I was going to die. My knee ached and my lungs were about to explode. I couldn't stop - knew if I would I'd never make it. It was a long, exhausting hike up to Aspen Glade trailhead. I got there, though, and leaned on the trailhead sign and gasped for breath. What a wuss.
Okay, onward to Aspen Glade. Very pretty. Very steep. Lots of pain in the knee. Agonizing pain in the knee actually, like someone was hitting it with a ball peen hammer each time I took a step. Ow ow ow ow ow. But what can you do? I'm on a frickin' trail in the mountains. You just shrug, call yourself a total idiot for hiking on bad ankle, promise your complaining body tequlia in the hot tub with the Ski Patrol later, and tromp onward. Lots of pretty wildflowers. Another deer (elk?). I lost my t-shirt somewhere, which sucked. I had it tucked into the waistband of my shorts, but it vanished. I don't so much mind the loss, but I feel bad about unintentionally littering.
(Sidenote - in my 3 hours of hiking, I did not see one piece of litter or one spot of vandelism. It was fantastic.)
I lost the trail somehow at one point and wound up on Corkscrew, which is a bike only trail. Makes ya nervous to know that at any point some crazy guy on a mountain bike could come whizzing your way. I stayed off the path where I could and kept an ear out. Only one guy passed me, but I heard him coming and was able to move way out of his way. And MAN was he moving! Crazy. Looked like fun, though.
I finally made it back to the resort and dragged my crippled self up to my room. Long hot shower felt good. At one point I was sitting down, carefully washing my hurt ankle. I kept looking at it thinking "wow did I get dirty" and wondering if I just wasn't scrubbing hard enough. Then I realized I was trying to wash off the bruise. Duh.
I got the ballroom and hung around there for about an hour. They really didn't need me. Kind-of bummmed me out, I would have liked to have taken the lift up and then back down again. It was a pretty ride. But they served dinner which means I don't have to buy any and that's good. They said I could stay and watch the show (I guess there's some talent there) but I politely declined. Are they crazy? I have a date with the Ski Patrol! (Bad 70s porno music again.)
My knee is killing me. I think I might have fucked it up hiking today, which would suck. The hike up to the stables tomorrow is going to be rough. But I'll do it! I refuse to take the shuttle - it's too nice out. I may take it back down, though, in the interest of time as I have to be in the ballroom at 1. 12:30 if I want lunch. The ride ends at 12 and I should take a shower so I don't come in smelling like horse and trail dust.
Fun fun! But I am off. Must call in hours and then grab a drink and hit the hot tub. Of course, I used up all my film on the trail and so there are no shots left for the guys. Damn. Though it was a flashless camera anyway so they probably wouldn't have come out. If any of the shops were still open I'd buy another one, but they all closed already for some stupid reason.
Oh, though I wanted to do this. Animals seen on the trail today (not counting my entourage of insects or people at the trailhead):
•2 elk (deer?)
•4 squirrels
•1 fox
•2 rabbits
•many birds including one bold robin
•countless butterflies, including one overly friendly black and white one that landed on my shoulder and rode with me for a while
• 6 people
• 14 centaurs - though those could have been people on horseback
Was nice.
I did spend time in the hot tub with the Ski Patrol boys on day 3. Jessie, Cobey and Tobias-not-Toby. All mid-20s, all incredibly sexy, all muscular, two with accents (Cobey & Tobias). We sat in the hot tub and drank tequlia sunburns and talked. Nice guys. Keep in mind now though, that they are all used to having a hot tub full of giggling snow-bunnies each. I was merely someone to sit and hang out with - this was never going to be some bad 70s porno, contrary to the background music. Really fun guys. I heard lots of stories of ski accidents and such. We stayed in the hot tub until we were wrinkled prune-people and then changed into sweats and moved over the fire to roast marshmallows with the pack of children there. Very low key, very nice. When it came out I was leaving on Wednesday, Tobias told me he had to drive into Denver to pick up his dirt-bike there anyway, did I want a ride? Are you kidding? Rather than sit in the 10 passenger van? Count me in! Around 10, the guy came and doused the fire, like he always does. We all had to be up somewhat early so we parted company, me making plans to catch up with Tobias Wednesday morning.
--Day IV--
Started out with a 2-hour horseback ride. The walk up to the stables wasn't bad at all. My knee was feeling a million times better. Walking uphill was much easier on it, too. There were nine of us in the trail ride, plus two "wranglers" both hot guys, one with an accent. (I think it's a law that you must be totally sexy to work at that resort.) Chris (with the accent - Canadian) was saddling up the horses while Cricket (good ol' American cowboy) looked over our paperwork and asked about levels of experience. I have tons. No one else had any. Chris and Cricket exchanged a look when this came out. Then Chris brought over a fiesty looking gledling that I'd been eyeing and waved me over. He introduced me to Harley (the horse) and held the reins while I swung into the saddle. Then I waited and waited and waited for them to get the other eight saddled up. Six of the eight required a step to stand on to get up on the horse. One of those six also needed a leg up. I tried not to be a snob about it or anything - you gotta start somewhere, right? I was a little disappointed. A trail ride composed of new riders won't hold anything wild and crazy riding-wise. Ah well. We went through a whole crash-course in riding (how to stop, turn, back up, go, etc) and set off. Cricket led, the other eight fell in behind, I follwed them, and Chris took hind-horse.
It was a pretty ride, I must say. We wound through trees on horse-only paths. Very nice. Perfect weather too, of course. The horses plodded along at a stroll so I kicked my feet out of the stirrups and let them hang. Chris took no notice or, if he did, thankfully didn't chastize me, though I'm sure his boss would have wanted him to. I'm more comfortable that way - hate Western stirrups unless I'm doing some real cowboyin'. (Though I must say, it had been a long time since I'd been in a Western saddle and boy, do I feel it now.) About fifteen minutes into the ride, we came to a pretty steep dip in the trail. Cricket stopped everyone and explained how to handle it: hold your horse back so only one rider goes at a time. The horses may break into a trot, don't worry, they'll stop soon enough. Lean back. Hang onto the saddle-horn if you have to. Okay. Let's go.
Cricket goes, seven others follow with various laughs and cries of distress. The woman in front of me got all spaztic when she saw the horse in front of her take the dip and then fall into a little trot to get back up the other side. She started pulling back on the reins, signaling her horse to back up. It did, right into my horse whom I was letting get a snatch of grass at the time. Harley spooked and nipped her horse who kicked and leapt forward, his rider screaming like she was being hacked to death with a machete. When her horse kicked, Harley reared. So here I am, in the saddle, no feet in the stirrups, on a rearing horse. Thank the gods I'm an experienced rider. I had the reins in my right hand, directly in front of the horn so I was able to both leave Harley a slack rein and grab the pommel with that hand. Body responded before brain (thanks old riding teachers!): legs went up slightly and gripped horse tight, back stayed straight, body tilted foward and up over horse's shoulders. I managed not to send horse or rider crashing into the trees or down the mountain. Harley landed (crashing me back into the saddle - ow), shied a little, then settled down.
Now I'm shaking like Hell, adreneline pumping hard enough to almost short circuit my brain, and trying not to scream at the stupid bitch who caused the whole problem. Everyone is gasping, Cricket is calling back for a damage report, Chris is already off his horse and at my side, Stupid Bitch is in tears. I'm calming Harley down, trying to calm myself down, Chris is running his hands over Harley to check him out, Cricket is now off his horse and coming back to us. He stops to check on Stupid Bitch. I keep telling Chris that Harley's okay, I'm okay, it's all fine. Cricket and Chris exchange a look, then Cricket goes back to his horse, saddles up, and leads the others on down the path. Chris is still fussing with Harley and my saddle, I'm insitent that we're both fine. He finally looks at me and tells me to just hush for a second. I do, irritated. Finally, satsified, he mounts up, turns Scout around, and waves for me to follow. I'm thinking, What?? The horse is fine! Why the Hell are we going back to the stable! Godsdamnit!" I'm fuming, but silent. He says nothing either.
After a few minutes, we come to a side path I hadn't noticed on the ride out. He takes it. I'm confused. He looks at me and laughs then tells me he thinks I deserve a private ride after that. Says I'm obviously experienced, besides he thinks I might kill Stupid Bitch. I agree, laughing, and we set off. EXCELLENT! My own privately lead trail ride! How cool is that?!
The ride from then on was excellent. Chris has an incredible eye and pointed out two elk, a handful of foxes, a porcupine, and two bears(!) which was indescribebly cool. We didn't talk much at all, just rode along in silence, him pausing to point out some flora or fauna or tell a little story about some part of the trail. Most of the trail was rocky and close, so there wasn't much space for anything other than a steady walk. At a few points, though, we were able to break into a trot or gentle lope when crossing the flat streches of the grassier ski-slopes. So cool. So much fun. On the way back to the stable, I offered to buy Chris a drink at the hotel bar later as a thank-you. He agreed. We got back to the stables with just enough time for me to help unsaddle Harley, dash down to my room, change clothes, wipe off some of the trail dust, and beat feet to the ballroom to go to work. Whew!
Strike went flawlessly. Everything came down quick and easy, no one got hurt, the driver was there with the truck exactly, on time, everything fit, nothing got lost, it was great. Oonga - put stuff in truck, watch truck leave. I like it when it goes like that.
Afterward, all the clients and techs (not local labor) went out for a quick celebratory drink, then back to rooms to shower and change, then down to the vilage to the Golden Eagle Inn for a fancy shmancy dinner. Was stupendously yummy. Most of the guys had elk, which I tasted for the first time. Tastes a lot like beef, just a little sharper flavor. Good though. I had the special which was some local, fresh-water fish. Excellent. We all shared a very nice bottle of $30 wine, then had lots of dessert. Expensive, but worth it.
(Sidenote - funny story from dinner. Peter, one of my client's clients, is a sweetheart of a guy. Really mild-mannered, just fantastic fellow. Can't say enough good things about him. Looks like he would be a very relaxed, non-threatening guy. Which he is. Anyway, he told us this story about this one flight he took cross-country. He had already sat down in his seat and this older woman of about 60 or so (Peter's in his 40s) gets on and sits next to him. They exchanged smiles. A few minutes later, a young woman came on with a baby that was screaming like a banshee and sat a few rows back. The older woman next to Peter turned to him and said "And now the flight is ruined for all of us." Peter sat there, not quite sure what to say, for after all, what do you say to that? So as not to be rude and not reply, he said the first thing that popped into his head which was "You're right. We should kill it." The woman stared at him wide-eyed, then turned away and didn't even look at him for the rest of the flight. I thought this was hilarious - about wet my pants.)
During the course of the show, I made pretty good friends with the guy from Masque Sound, Stephen, who was also up there from Phoenix. He moved to Phoenix recently (from Portland - foolish boy!) and doesn't know too many people yet, so we chatted rather a lot. Really nice guy. Like him lots. At dinner, we made plans to meet at the firepit for wine and s'mores at about 9:00. (Which was a good time for me, as that gave me about an hour and a half to hang out with Chris before Stephen came down.) When dinner was done and we were all sated, there was much hand-shaking, hugging, thank-yous, we-gotta-do-this-again, see-you-next-show, great-job kind of stuff, then we parted company. Everyone went to their rooms and what not, I wandered over to the lift-ticket office to meet Chris. We decided against the hotel bar and instead went to a little place down in the village by the ice rink.
(Sidenote: "The village" is basically part of the whole resort, though the property is not owned by the Hyatt. But it's right next door. I mean RIGHT there. You walk out of one door of the resort to the ice rink and the rest of the village rings that rink. It's all shops and restaurants and stuff. Cool little place.)
Chris and I had some beers there, mostly a locally brewed one called "Road Dog" that I highly recommend if you can get your hands on it. Very yummy. He's a fantastic guy. Adored him to pieces. Totally bummed out that he lives in frickin' Colorado. We sat outside on the patio even after it started to rain. Thunder, lightning, the works. I was thrilled to death at the rain, clapping my hands like a kid, and Chris was so amused at me that he put up with the stray drops that slipped in and splashed us from time to time. We hung out for about an hour until I said I should go meet Stephen and revise our fireside plans. Chris offered to walk me in. I accepted.
We paid and left and were walking back toward the hotel when Chris grabbed my hand and lead me over to the ice rink. Mind you, it's still raining and, in fact, beginning to sleet a little, and the rink has a layer of water across it. Chris smiled at me and we took a running start and slid across the ice, sending waves flying off our shoes. It was excellent. I felt like a kid, laughing like a fool, soaking wet, sliding across water-covered ice rink, getting absolutely pelted by rain and sleet. We ran and slid and fell and just generally had a good time of the whole thing until we were both shivering which is when we made our mad dash to the hotel. We got in the doors and stood there breathless, giggling, and dripping on the carpet. Since he had no change of clothes, we squished our way up to my room where he put on one of the big fluffy bathrobes in my closet. Thankfully, guest laundry was right across the hall so we threw his clothes in the drier. I put on sweats and the other bathrobe so Chris wouldn't feel silly, and we made our way not-so-squishingly down to the lobby bar. Normally they require proper attire, but I think the rain caused an exception. We got some hot chocolate and schapps and went back up to the room to wait for his clothes to dry. My room had a gas fireplace, so we lit that and sat on the couch and talked.
(Yes, just talked. Nothing happened, despite the romantic conditions, fluffy bathrobes, and obvious serious attraction. So don't go thinking anything like that. I can't explain why not... it was like something would have been ruined. Like it would have cheapened the whole thing into a one-night-stand. And it was and unspoken, understood agreement that we shouldn't let that happen.)
Anyway, once his clothes were dry, he changed back into them. By this time, the rain had totally stopped and the fire was lit outside. We walked out to the fire, he hugged me and gave me a kiss on the cheek, and we said goodbye. A see-you-next-time, if-you're-ever-in-Phoenix-look-me-up, okay-take-care kind of thing. No phone numbers exchanged, no email, nothing. Strange, but really neat. I actually really liked leaving it like that. I have such a spectacular memory of him and nothing will ever be able to mar that.
I don't know, it was like I crossed paths with a soulmate from another life. Or something. I can't explain it. And I can't explain why it's good that it ended like that, so tied off, so final, but it is good. Just one perfect day to be remembered, with no chance of either of us doing anything in the future to fuck that memory up. I am pleased.
So! Chris and I parted ways for the evening. I watched him walk off then went inside to get another drink. I had just sat down at the bar when Stephen came downstairs. AH! Perfect timing! We got our drinks, I grabbed a marshmallow-roasting-stick from the pile at the door, and we went out to sit by the fire. We were only there for about an hour before the fire-douser-man showed up, but it was a good time. He and I chatted some more and two drunk 40-something women lead us all in Girl Scout Campfire songs. We made s'mores and I learned that I have a two s'more limit at this point in my life. They were yummy though.
Once the fire was out (with lots of booing from those assembled), Stephen and I went back inside, said goodnight, exchanged numbers (since he's local) and went to our rooms. I had just kicked off my shoes and started packing when the phone rang. It was Jessie, he was glad he had caught me, meet him and Cobey at the chairlift in fifteen minutes wearing jeans and tennis shoes, okay? Good. -click-
Huh?! Okaaaaaaaay. So I do.
I got to the chairlift and it was running, which confused the crap out of me since it closes at 4:30. But Jessie and Cobey were there, along with two other guys, strapping mountain bikes onto the backs of chairs and sending them up the mountain. Jessie smiled and tossed me a bike helmet. That's when I started getting nervous. Then Cobey grabbed my hand and pulled me over to the lift. We got on, he called back to the other guys that he'd see them at the top, and off we went.
So there I am, sitting on a chairlift next to a Ski Patrol boy, in the pitch black middle of the frickin' night (okay, only 10:30, but still dark as the pits of Hell). I'm holding a bike helmet. Things are so far out of my control at this point. I see where this is going and I'm pretty freaked out about it. Excited, but freaked out.
Cobey was beside himself he was so jazzed. He explained it all to me on the way up the mountain. One of the guys back down on the ground worked for the resort and the other (Doug) was training to compete in some extreme adventure race/competition 1001-ways-to-die-on-a-mountain thing. I guess one of the legs of the whole thing is a 24-hour bike ride. Consequently, he's got to be able to ride at night. So the not-competing guy got permission from the resort to send Doug and some friends up the mountain on the lift so they could ride down some of the trails for practice. I guess the resort is somehow involved with the event which is why they said okay or, oh hell, I don't know, they let them, for whatever reason. And the guys decided to drag my crippled ass along for humor value, I guess.
Anyway, we got to the top where this other guy, Paul, was waiting. He'd gone up first and taken the bikes off as they came up. Then Cobey and I got there, then Doug and Jessie. Once we were all there, with bikes, Paul radioed down to the resort-dude and he shut the lift down. ACK! Now I'm stuck. And committed. And terrified. But what the Hell, right? All the bikes had bright-ass lamps on them and Doug's helmet had one too. So we mounted up, switched on, Doug took the lead and we headed down the mountain.
I have never done anything so eerie and scary in my life. You can't see shit. It's fucking dark. Yeah, we've got lots of lamps, but Doug is the only one with one on his head. None of the rest of us can really swing our lights around. And there are lots of animals in the woods. Including bears. I know this 'cause I saw them. And yeah, they probably won't attack, and you know that, but it seems totally likely when you're in the pitch-black dark, let me tell you. And we're moving pretty fast down this hill. Well, Doug is, and none of us want to get left behind to get eaten by bears, so we're following pretty close. Which means if so much as a squirrel runs in front of Doug, we're in for a seriously painful, multi-bike crash. And there are lots of squirrels in the woods, too! I could visualize the whole thing. Squirrel runs out in front of Doug, he is starteled, wipes out, all the rest of us pile onto each other. Then there we are, stuck in a bleeding, multi-spoked heap on the side of a mountain in the frickin' middle of the night. Bear food for sure. And whose going to come help us? I'm with the Ski Patrol guys!!
It was fucking weird, that's all I can say. Fun, very very fun, but weird. And scary. Fast, dark, bears, bikes, potential life-taking squirrels. Scary shit. But fun. Freaks me out just remembering it.
I recommend it. I think...
--At Home--
I'm home. Bills, junk mail, and one personal note are piled on the table waiting for my letter opener. The answering machine blinks 11 new messages. A pile of receipts from the past few days are heaped on my desk, waiting to be entered into my registry. Paperwork lies in a folder, awaiting my attention. The cats are pleased to see me and mew as they weave their silky, furry little bodies around my legs. Tossed upon my bed are shot glasses wrapped in paper and miscellaneous gifts tucked into shopping bags. Lying beside them are my cameras, packed full of undeveloped images of Heaven. My clothes are piled in the washer, merely a knob-turn away from being rinsed clean of their smells of woodsmoke, Colorado mountain air, sweat and trail dust. My whole body aches, partially from work, mostly from fun. It is a pleasant ache, the feeling of muscles used hard, the feeling of having truly lived. It is hard to believe that I awoke this morning in a different bed, in a different state both physically and mentally. Harder still to know that, less than 24 hours ago, I was holding hands with a man I barely knew and laughing with sheer, raw, unfettered joy as we slid, pelted by rain and sleet, across a wet ice rink nestled in Vail Valley.
I can close my eyes and see it all. I know that it is after 4:30 there and the chairlift has closed for the day. People are still on the moutain, hiking or biking their way downhill, and the last of the trail rides is headed back to the stables. A man stands in the firepit outside the Antler Bar and carefully piles pinon logs in a neat stack, just waiting for someone's request to light the blaze. It will not be too long in coming. A young, well-built, sexy blonde man from Canada wearing a pair of bright blue swim trunks waits by the pool. In a few minutes, he will reluctantly shoo the laughing children out of the water so that he may get in and hang up the ropes the create lanes for the adult-only swim from five to seven. A handful of happy, weary hikers sit in one of the jacuzzis, sipping glasses of red wine, waiting for their companions to join them. They do not know that their friends are sitting quietly on the mountain side, mountain bikes leaning against trees, watching in wide-eyed pleasure as a family of elk stolls past them. Couples sitting by the pool discuss plans for dinner. The tarp above the ice rink is slowly pulled back. Day camp is winding down and parents are coming out from the spa to gather their children. The shops in the village are crowded. New guests are arriving, seeping in slowly through the front doors of the lobby and checking in at the desk. Their eyes sweep across the bar, noting the fantastic chandelier of naturally-shed antlers, and coming to rest out the wide, thick glass windows at the view of the pine-covered mountains.
Four men in their early 20s are just making their way down from Beaver Lake. They stroll toward the stables where they will vear off, then hike back up the mountain to Spruce Saddle Lodge (elevation 10,200'). One stops to point out an eagle soaring past at eye level. They will arrive at the lodge to collect their mountain bikes, which they sent up earlier in the day, strapped to the backs of seats on the chairlift. When darkness falls, they will switch on their blindingly bright headlamps and bike lamps and ride down the unpaved road toward the main lodge at the base. They will ride faster than any who seem the approaching would believe. Tipsy guests sitting around the fire later will cheer as the bikes whip past.
A young couple looks out the windows of their suite. The man points to the rocks outside where a family of foxes is known to play. His left hands rests on the small of her back and he brushes his pants pocket with the other, feeling for the ring box. He hopes she will be surprised later when he pops the question over elk medallions and expensive red wine at dinner.
It is a magical place to me. I will always think of it fondly.
tired
Re: tired
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i'm going to add you if you don't mind :)
>laughing<
Yes, it is insaney long. (Though I warned that in the beginning of the post!) It was orginally written in parts, over the space of several days. Just wanted to compile it so it made sense for those who came in late, so to speak.
And yes, by all means, add me! I'm flattered that you would want to and I'll be sure to do the same. Welcome!
WOW!!
Lotsa love
Longshot
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