Deer season
Good Morning from Lawrence, Kansas. It's flat here.
The past few days have been a blur of a lot of driving. Friday, I left Moab later than I expected, it turned out to be hard to leave town. I spent a lot of my "extra" days there, if not for my Thanksgiving destination, I may have been sucked in completely. I started heading off toward Colorado Springs around noon and about an hour later, entering Colorado, it was obvious that I wasn't going to make it very far. I wound up driving through some serious breathtaking mountain scenery, though-- the drop from Hwy 90, out of the high La Sals into Paradox, Colorado was particularly stunning.
Late afternoon, tired from the night before and not used to the road again, I decided to take advantage of my weariness and stop in Ouray, Colorado, only 160 miles from Moab. Ouray was of particular interest to me as the ice climbing capital of the USA. Nestled at 7800' against the north slopes of some serious mountains, Ouray is probably on my top 10 list of beautiful towns in the USA. Indeed, I just noticed that their website calls it "The Switzerland of America." Cheesy, but a fair comparison.
Despite the prime location near lots of popular other ski towns (Telluride, Purgatory, etc), Ouray itself is generally quiet in the winter. With the ski resorts still closed, it was dead. I found an open restaurant to get a late lunch. Over lunch, I met a cool bloke who's house was washed away in the Katrina floods and so found himself starting over in Ouray of all places deciding to become a snowboarder (as of Friday, he had yet to actually snowboard).
After lunch, I ambled down to Ouray Mountain Sports, one of the only shops in the USA that stocks more than one or two proper mountain boots. I indulged in the knowledge and friendliness of Bill, the proprietor and spent an hour or so there trying on lots of boots and generally talking about gear and the town. I finally found a pair that fit me properly in the new La Sportiva Nepal Evo GTx-- big, bright yellow, dead sexy. At an -ahem- great price, I was seriously tempted but decided to wait on a buying decision. Seriously, though, Bill had these for a lot less than most other shops (linked above), was willing to throw in free shipping and there's the no-tax benefit of ordering from Colorado. He doesn't have an orderable website, but for any purchases that I need to make in the outdoor arena, I'm calling OMS first.
Bill suggested the Riverside Inn for a room and the Bien Tiempo for some food and local drinking action. The Riverside was very comfortable and clean, with real log furniture and a steal at $45 a night. They have some affordable 3-bed suites that would be perfect for an early-January ice climbing trip to Ouray. Anyone interested in joining me?
After a nap and a call to the family I ambled down to the Bien for dinner and drinks. Tasty enchiladas, a few glasses of the always excellent New Belgium 1554 Black, and chatting with the friendly natives. Met Tim and Sherri from Ridgeway. Tim's in construction, and if you ever need a haircut in SW Colorado, go hit up Sherri's salon. There are both fugitives from the SFBA and were quite happy to tell me about how happy they were out there. . .
Wound up ready for more, so Kim, the bar manager at the Bien and I headed to the Silver Eagle down the street. Switching to Vodka (and a whisky shot imbibed on a bet...) things got smasho quick. Along the way, Kim was telling me about the Ice Festival and how it screws over the local restaurants and bars because the sponsored hospitality tent has free food and beer, only releasing the revelers when they're really drunk and ready to piss off waitresses and bartenders in their search for more. We also met Duane, a hunter from Mississippi who, in his second complete sentence, informed us that he was glad to be away from Jackson because the black people down there don't speak to him in a "friendly manner". Anyway... wound up at Big John (a Mets fan from NJ) and Chris' house after the Eagle closed for a bit and then finally headed back to the hotel around 3am.
The next morning, I got up pretty slowly, sore in the muscles from a funny high-altitude hangover. I finally made it down to the internet cafe and chocolate factory (ate a 'scrap cookie', a cookie made with all the leftover bits from the chocolates they make: creams, nuts, chocolate, toffee, etc. Seriously good cookie).
After that, I went back over to OMS and chatted with Bill about crampons and ice axes. If anyone has been thinking of a good Chanukah present for me, give him a call. Nepal Evo's in 43.5 size, a set of PetzlCharlet Aztarexes and a set of Grivel G14's (with Cramp-o-matic bindings-- no I'm not even kidding). Better make sure he throws in the Black Diamond Android leashes, too. Heh.
Finally rolled out of Ouray noonish. My time there had me thinking about what it would be like living in a very small town. Out of 800 or so people, you get to know everyone very fast and they know you. Just walking around, I saw two complete scenes of a specific local drama unfolding, the right folks just happened to be where I turned up each time. I wonder if the tight social circles would be stifling, or if the small sea would give me a chance to be a big fish. The idea of giving it a try for a year or so at some point is very appealing.
Around 4PM on Saturday, I crossed the Continental Divide at Monarch Pass (11,312'). I got a bit teary as I left the Pacific drainage behind and started my way down the big ramp to the Mississippi. That night, around 7:30, I rolled into Colorado Springs, got a room and a very large Italian dinner and crashed out.
Yesterday morning was spent emailing and contacting the folks that I hope to visit on my next phase here in the Midwest. Colorado Springs provided an appropriate gateway; as you drive out of town into the flat prairie and farmland, Pike's Peak fills up your rear-view mirror like a wall. I tried to continue my theme of staying off the interstate, but after 30 minutes on Hwy 94, I realized that it was going to all look the same whether I was going 60 or 85, so I moved up to Interstate 70 at Limon (I didn't actually stop to ask them how they botched the pronunciation of their town-- I'm guessing LIH-min).
Big thanks to Jill, Carter and Rich for together talking me through two of the ten hours that I spent numbing my way to Lawrence. I have to go now and make my way to Jefferson City today. Velma's dad has invited me to stay with him and his message on my voicemail informed me that it's deer season. . .
The past few days have been a blur of a lot of driving. Friday, I left Moab later than I expected, it turned out to be hard to leave town. I spent a lot of my "extra" days there, if not for my Thanksgiving destination, I may have been sucked in completely. I started heading off toward Colorado Springs around noon and about an hour later, entering Colorado, it was obvious that I wasn't going to make it very far. I wound up driving through some serious breathtaking mountain scenery, though-- the drop from Hwy 90, out of the high La Sals into Paradox, Colorado was particularly stunning.
Late afternoon, tired from the night before and not used to the road again, I decided to take advantage of my weariness and stop in Ouray, Colorado, only 160 miles from Moab. Ouray was of particular interest to me as the ice climbing capital of the USA. Nestled at 7800' against the north slopes of some serious mountains, Ouray is probably on my top 10 list of beautiful towns in the USA. Indeed, I just noticed that their website calls it "The Switzerland of America." Cheesy, but a fair comparison.
Despite the prime location near lots of popular other ski towns (Telluride, Purgatory, etc), Ouray itself is generally quiet in the winter. With the ski resorts still closed, it was dead. I found an open restaurant to get a late lunch. Over lunch, I met a cool bloke who's house was washed away in the Katrina floods and so found himself starting over in Ouray of all places deciding to become a snowboarder (as of Friday, he had yet to actually snowboard).
After lunch, I ambled down to Ouray Mountain Sports, one of the only shops in the USA that stocks more than one or two proper mountain boots. I indulged in the knowledge and friendliness of Bill, the proprietor and spent an hour or so there trying on lots of boots and generally talking about gear and the town. I finally found a pair that fit me properly in the new La Sportiva Nepal Evo GTx-- big, bright yellow, dead sexy. At an -ahem- great price, I was seriously tempted but decided to wait on a buying decision. Seriously, though, Bill had these for a lot less than most other shops (linked above), was willing to throw in free shipping and there's the no-tax benefit of ordering from Colorado. He doesn't have an orderable website, but for any purchases that I need to make in the outdoor arena, I'm calling OMS first.
Bill suggested the Riverside Inn for a room and the Bien Tiempo for some food and local drinking action. The Riverside was very comfortable and clean, with real log furniture and a steal at $45 a night. They have some affordable 3-bed suites that would be perfect for an early-January ice climbing trip to Ouray. Anyone interested in joining me?
After a nap and a call to the family I ambled down to the Bien for dinner and drinks. Tasty enchiladas, a few glasses of the always excellent New Belgium 1554 Black, and chatting with the friendly natives. Met Tim and Sherri from Ridgeway. Tim's in construction, and if you ever need a haircut in SW Colorado, go hit up Sherri's salon. There are both fugitives from the SFBA and were quite happy to tell me about how happy they were out there. . .
Wound up ready for more, so Kim, the bar manager at the Bien and I headed to the Silver Eagle down the street. Switching to Vodka (and a whisky shot imbibed on a bet...) things got smasho quick. Along the way, Kim was telling me about the Ice Festival and how it screws over the local restaurants and bars because the sponsored hospitality tent has free food and beer, only releasing the revelers when they're really drunk and ready to piss off waitresses and bartenders in their search for more. We also met Duane, a hunter from Mississippi who, in his second complete sentence, informed us that he was glad to be away from Jackson because the black people down there don't speak to him in a "friendly manner". Anyway... wound up at Big John (a Mets fan from NJ) and Chris' house after the Eagle closed for a bit and then finally headed back to the hotel around 3am.
The next morning, I got up pretty slowly, sore in the muscles from a funny high-altitude hangover. I finally made it down to the internet cafe and chocolate factory (ate a 'scrap cookie', a cookie made with all the leftover bits from the chocolates they make: creams, nuts, chocolate, toffee, etc. Seriously good cookie).
After that, I went back over to OMS and chatted with Bill about crampons and ice axes. If anyone has been thinking of a good Chanukah present for me, give him a call. Nepal Evo's in 43.5 size, a set of PetzlCharlet Aztarexes and a set of Grivel G14's (with Cramp-o-matic bindings-- no I'm not even kidding). Better make sure he throws in the Black Diamond Android leashes, too. Heh.
Finally rolled out of Ouray noonish. My time there had me thinking about what it would be like living in a very small town. Out of 800 or so people, you get to know everyone very fast and they know you. Just walking around, I saw two complete scenes of a specific local drama unfolding, the right folks just happened to be where I turned up each time. I wonder if the tight social circles would be stifling, or if the small sea would give me a chance to be a big fish. The idea of giving it a try for a year or so at some point is very appealing.
Around 4PM on Saturday, I crossed the Continental Divide at Monarch Pass (11,312'). I got a bit teary as I left the Pacific drainage behind and started my way down the big ramp to the Mississippi. That night, around 7:30, I rolled into Colorado Springs, got a room and a very large Italian dinner and crashed out.
Yesterday morning was spent emailing and contacting the folks that I hope to visit on my next phase here in the Midwest. Colorado Springs provided an appropriate gateway; as you drive out of town into the flat prairie and farmland, Pike's Peak fills up your rear-view mirror like a wall. I tried to continue my theme of staying off the interstate, but after 30 minutes on Hwy 94, I realized that it was going to all look the same whether I was going 60 or 85, so I moved up to Interstate 70 at Limon (I didn't actually stop to ask them how they botched the pronunciation of their town-- I'm guessing LIH-min).
Big thanks to Jill, Carter and Rich for together talking me through two of the ten hours that I spent numbing my way to Lawrence. I have to go now and make my way to Jefferson City today. Velma's dad has invited me to stay with him and his message on my voicemail informed me that it's deer season. . .
posted by Scottley at 7:03 AM
3 Comments:
The burgers were great! I don't know what it is. I think east-coast jews just like salty meat.
Stifling or big fish? Both. You'd no doubt be a big fish anywhere, just varies on how long it takes to get there, and depends on how well you like your own daily personal dramas to show up in someone's blog. But stay north of Mason-Dixon or west of the plains.
Wherever it is, stay for a year, be visible, and if you still like the place then run for city council. Give out "Climbin' Simon for Councilman" t-shirts. If elected, you can't help but own the town and you'll have the bully pulpit to boot. On Saturdays you can go to the town square and polish your statue.
Wow, I don't look at your page for a few weeks and you go off and spew vomit via keyboard!
Glad to see you are having a good time.
When is the next kinky club thingy?
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