Looking Busy in a Room Full of Strangers

A flood of people rush by at intermission. Backing away from the aisle to give room, I get tangled up in the low hanging tassels that fasten a curtain back to make one big room out of two. They bob against my ears and forehead as I push them away like pesky flies. Stepping further back behind the curtain and into the no-mans-land overflow area. Alone.

Well, that’s awkward, I think. I’m foreign enough here to be get pushed into tassels. In my state of being unknown, I’m matter-less enough for no one to notice what is happening. Feeling a bit like the kid who got picked last for the team - or rather the kid that never got picked for ANY team - I wanting to disappear slightly.

As take a breath in to try drumming up courage to talk to a stranger, I can’t help but wonder, what did we do before the invention of the smartphone to provide distraction in uncomfortable social situations?

Feeling a little sheepish and insecure? Just pull out your smartphone and start tapping away! Because, even if alone, we obviously must be important to someone, somewhere if we're communicating on our smartphone. But where’s the challenge in hiding behind a 2x4” piece of plastic? If you leave your smartphone at home, or just want to mix things up a bit, here are a few tips for filling time in a large social setting when you’re the new person in the room, don't know a anyone else and are completely intimidated.

1. Go to the bathroom. Within a three-hour period of time, you can do this at least twice without it seeming odd. If you're a girl, this could take upward of 5 minutes a time depending on how long the line is not to mention walking to and from the restroom.

2. Order a drink, wine or gin and tonics are preferable but if feeling parched or that your wallet is pinched, stick with water. Go to the busiest end of the bar to order, it will take longer and you may inadvertently bump into someone – human contact!! This could take anywhere from 2 to 10 minutes depending on the line and the swiftness with which the bartenders pour.

3. Inspect the surroundings to great depth, tassels included. My, isn’t that plain, flat ceiling with slightly stained tiles lovely! And did you see the view out that broken window. Stunning. Depending on how many things there are to study, this could take all night.

 4. Fix a wardrobe or hairdo malfunction. Bobby pin gone askew? Take it out, drop it at least once or twice before re-securing your tendril of hair back into place. Does your double-knotted shoelace look like it might possibly come untied? You certainly don't want to trip. You'd better untie, and then re-tie it. Also, re-tie the other one for good measure.

 5. Feeling ballsy and want to talk but the event guests look intimidating? Chat up the event organizers. They have to be nice to you. They want you to spend more money on drinks/food/merchandise/future tickets. Ask them a complicated question like, the precise arrangement of chairs they use to fit so many people in the room and does it follow any sort of algorithmic, Pythagorean principle? (I don't even know what that means. See, just make shit up, it’ll throw them off.)

6. If all else fails, remember that everyone in that room was once the new person and likely felt just as out of place and comfort zone. Remember too that they once went to middle school and high school and probably wore headgear and one of those awful, oversized Raiders jackets and never learned to dance the Roger Rabbit either. If not currently, at least in teen years they were just as awkward as you feel. Smile in empathy at their silly N’Sync loving former self and have compassion to say hello.

The Single Girl's Guide To Doing Fewer Chores: Laundry

“So, sassypants, what’d you think of that show?” 

It was a good date night, so my response is, “pretty rad. Intermission was a bit long. I was on the edge of my seat waiting for the second half of the program.” 

“It was great! Good people watching, the wine was drinkable and the storytelling entertaining.”

This back-and-forth dialogue continues, me with myself. As a single girl – and now as a single girl living in a new city where I don't know many people - I often take myself on date nights with me. The conversation after the show, meal or what-have-you is always pleasant, since I’m always right and myself always agrees.

So is the case this evening after my first attendance of Story Story Night in Boise. The conversation continues as I throw in a load of laundry to clean a few things including part of my Halloween costume that I’ll need in 2 days. I should’ve known – chores on a date night are a no-no. Rather then receiving a reprimand for my blunder, what I learn next instead is a fantastic shortcut!

Coaxing Maile to eat her dinner as I put clean dishes in the cabinets (again, chores + date night= no-no) a crash comes from the laundry room and she bolts out of the kitchen. “What in tarnation?!” I ask myself.

Turning on the light, I see my brand new bottle of more expensive than average, eco-friendly laundry detergent has fallen to the floor, the cap is now broken, and viscous goo slithers across the floor. Here is where the lesson comes in: Make your house clean as a whistle without cleaning anything.

1. Break open a bottle of laundry detergent and spill 1/3 to ½ the contents onto the floor and under the washer and the dryer (and onto your shoes, recycle bin, already clean laundry and dirty laundry, too). Now everything, including your stinky recycle bin smells divine! Smell is key to cleanliness, cleanliness is kind of an attractive quality, men like attractive things or so I’ve been told. The conclusion is that you could really have found the secret to dating success: laziness matched with detergent spills. You really could stop here, but…

2. Step in the goo unexpectedly as your brain slowly processes the situation and comes up with a plan of goo-tackling action. Your foot is now clean – sort of gooey clean – or at least you smell clean so now you don't have to take a shower for at least 2, maybe 3, more days. Score!

3. Brain fires off a plan and you decide to wipe up the excess goo. It takes about 5 or 6 dog-bath towels which are now soaked in goo. Now, when you do laundry in the future, just throw in one of the goo soaked (soon to be dried and caked) towels into the laundry with the other dirty clothes. Voila! You don't even have to pour laundry detergent into the washer. Bonus chance to be lazy!

4. Goo on the linoleum floor becomes sticky after a time as it starts to dry and coagulate. It also remains sweet-smelling. Sweet smells combined with sticky goo makes a fantastic bug trap. No more swatting of insects or hanging out traps for you. Bugs are caught in the semi-dried goo all on their own! And since the laundry room is in the back of the house, no one will ever see the bug graveyard!

To summarize, spill laundry detergent goo. Step in it, let it run across the floor and everything in its path, kind of clean it up with towels, leave the remainder goo to dry. The result? Your home always smells of laundry without you having to pick up any bottles of sanitizing spray (less cleaning with smelly supplies), so does your foot (less showering), and you don't have to pick up the container to pour laundry detergent in the machine for weeks (those dang bottles weigh so damn much its like a workout to pick them up). Plus, after a rainstorm, rub the dirty dog with a goo-dried towel – BOOM - clean dog! That’s at least 5 chores avoided.

And there you have it. Go forth and be dirty.

Starting Boise

The past 7 weeks have been fairly chaotic since I decided to leave the job I'd occupied for 5 years and the city I’ve lived in all my life (minus a short, one year pause in Berkeley). Now that the move is over though, my brain seems to be better absorbing this amazing change and each day there is something new that delights me.

Here are my initial discoveries about Boise:

Little, cozy, but not green. What to call it?

1. Be prepared to say hello. Nearly everyone who crosses paths will say hello or, more likely, will say hello and follow it with a lengthier greeting. For example, while walking Maile tonight, we passed a man who called out “hello, good evening, nice night for a walk” from his porch with enough pause in between words for me to respond appropriately. A stranger! Sort of engaging me in conversation! 

Five days in and I already know the names of my neighbors on all sides, their kids’ names, their dogs’ names and know where they are from and what their occupations are.

All this friendliness has been startling to a gal used to the cool, aloof workings of a bigger city. For perspective, after 4+ years in the Little Green House, I semi-regularly chatted with only one of my neighbors and never learned her name (and don't think she knew mine either since she always just called me Baby). Its hard not to feel a bit cynical here when smiled at and greeted kindly. All. The. Time.

People are just nice here. The classic good-to-other-humans nice we all seem to want but don't have time to create in our overly busy, technology distracted world (or maybe its just me). It's the kind of nice you’d expect if you lived in Mayberry, Mayfield, or a Norman Rockwell painting. People know their neighbors and pause at crosswalks to allow pedestrians and bikers to cross without getting pissed about the delay. They say hello from their porches, at the grocery store, while riding by on their bikes, while talking on their phones, when playing a game of horseshoes… Perhaps outside of my pretty neighborhood its different, but even if so, I’m doing my best to put aside my suspicious metropolis mentality to embrace the small town cordiality of this city. And say Hello often. 

2. Kids ride their bikes to school. On their own. I have read a number of depressing articles recently about how kids nowadays don't get to roam free without constant parental supervision. When I was a kid, we freely played in the “woods” near our house, walked to the store to get a 15cent candy treats, or went across the street to play with neighbor kids. Its made me a little sad to think my nephew might not also have freedom to find adventure as he grows up. 

Then I came to Boise.

City of Trees, an ironic nickname to
a girl from the Evergreen State

Kids here ride their bikes to school alone. Or  they walk there with siblings or neighbor kids carrying pink and blue packs on their backs, no parents in tow. Sure, a parent on hand as the crossing guard to help them get to the other side of busier streets, but from what I have observed, they are free to be kids, to roam, draw hopscotch on the sidewalks in chalk, play on the swing two doors down and find their own way.

3. There are squirrels everywhere. Big ones. There are also big trees everywhere. Big, beautiful trees with leaves that are quickly turning yellow and orange and dropping acorns and other edibles to the ground. And the squirrels are going kamikaze crazy about them!! They zoom across the street, in front of the dog, along the fences and across rooftops to fly up branches and tree trunks to their hideouts where they’re stocking up for winter.

So far, Maile is baffled by these robust, chubby “toys” that are so oblivious they don't even care to taunt her. She wants to chase them, but before she takes off on the hunt gets distracted from one when another runs into view.

Squirrels. Everywhere. Up and down oaks, elms, locusts and cottonwoods that line every street in this “City of Trees.”

4. The sky is, in fact, blue every single day (so far). I keep waking up thinking it will be different but the “gray” I see as I rub my sleepy eyes is merely the sky at its softest blue as the sun slowly rises. I do not miss the rain, yet.

Follow the Leader

Blessed is the influence of one true, loving human soul to another. - George Eliot

Delightful mischief. (That is not the name of this horse.)

The familiar smile looking back at me from the memorial celebration invite pinned to the fridge still looks as bright as when the postman delivered it over a month ago. Her smile doesn’t change at all across my thirty three years of memories that include her, nor has it faded in these last seven months since she passed away. Steady, smiling, warm. The memories of her life that I hold in my mind go further back in time than what my three decades could include. The stories she told color my mind, a vibrant life lived with intention and carefree confidence, with laughter and smiles no matter the ups or downs, a life filled with love freely given.

“She was a wonderful sister,” Lorna says. “She was just wonderful,” clasping my hand with hers. Her hand is cool, smooth, and lovely - just the way her sister’s felt, only less crooked with arthritis. “She shouldnt have had to be that responsible but she took care of me. Only two years were between us, but she was my big sister. She always took care of me.” Lorna’s eyes get bigger as they look into mine, searching for understanding, for acknowledgment, and...almost... for a bit of forgiveness, maybe about having been the younger.

They were only 5 and 7. At first, it was Daddy who led the horse three miles from their Miles City homestead to the school house until the horse learned to make his way alone with the two little girls on his back. The next time she told it, it was Mama. Either way, it was a shame that one parent or the other didn’t take the girls the short distance to school in their car. Corma shouldn’t have had to be responsible - they were babies. But they wanted to go to school and Lorna had Corma, and Corma took care of her. She sat in the saddle leading the horse with Lorna sitting just behind the saddle. Their path crossed a creek where the horse would take the break to drink. It path crossed a meadow where he would snack on tall grasses. There were wolves in those parts of Montana. Why didn’t Daddy or Mama take them to school? “Corma was such a wonderful sister.”

Corma

My mind often sees my grandmother in one particularly cold Montana winter in the early 1940’s when she was a single woman in her late 20’s. She stood at the bus stop in a heavy jacket that covered her well-dressed, shivering figure, its thick fur collar pulled tight around her neck as she tried to stay warm. It was so cold it hurt to breathe. It Hurt. To. Breathe. She had tried to build a life there, had worked her way through business college and found a good job, her family lived nearby, she had good friends who she went with to dances and parties. But was she happy enough to stay in that cold, harsh place? She was smart and intuitive to know when something wasn’t right, when enough was enough, when it was time to let go and move on.

She didn’t wait for anyone else to make life happen for her. In a time without Facebook, pinning, skype, texting, cell phones, her only connections to the family and friends she left behind were limited to handwritten letters, the occasional telegram and the once-in-a-blue-moon visit. She could’ve stayed with the familiar. She could’ve shivered and pouted. Instead, she loaded up her Little Green Hornet with her belongings and drove west, an extra set of retread tires that her Butte employer had given to her as a parting gift in the trunk just in case. If she felt fear, she moved through it. Courageously. She said yes to life. Of all her stories, this is my favorite.

Lorna is 95 and sometimes her memory switches things - was it Daddy or Mama? - and today she shared this story with me many times, each time as if it had never been told before. We aren’t so different - I have shared the story I treasure many times too. Maybe there is a reason we tell the same tales over and over. Despite some discrepancies, some details don't ever change.

Corma was a wonderful sister. Corma was a wonderful grandmother. She lived with courage. She delighted in the new and different, standing tall and proud of herself and her family with graceful confidence.

Lorna’s eyes twinkle while she gently, firmly clasps my hand as she tells me the story again. Behind that beautiful twinkle and in her grip, is such familiar confident pride and gentle caring. Does she know how many similarities she has to my grandmother? When I close my eyes, I see her smile, hear her happy laugh and every now and again, I see a spark of her fire for life in my own heart and mind encouraging me to say “Yes, Go.”

Idaho City

A nugget of summer warmth from the ol'travel log for a cold end-of-winter day...

Pungent, familiar earth and pine fill my nose. The coolness of morning is breaking, a hint at the day’s oncoming heat. Yesterday, temps in this dusty town crept above 100F. It’s only ten in the morning and already pushing the mercury, a far cry from the night before when I closed my eyes under the watchful gaze of a familiar moon and cool mountains a few hundred miles back up the highway.

Dogs search for nap spots in the shadows cast by trucks on Main Street. Under a sliver of shade from the porch roof, I watch two men across the dirt road hawk raffle tickets to out-of-town passerby in support of some community fund. I can only make out a few words, the rest I learn from a hand-painted, butcher paper sign; winner walks away with a hand built table.

Four hundred and fifty eight, give or take a few. That is the total population of once bustling Idaho City, a former mining mecca. Like so many other towns that dot western hillsides, it misplaced its hustle and bustle somewhere along the way morphing into a blink-and-miss-it trinket stop. This map dot now survives on gold from the pockets of accidental tourists who stumble upon it. Candles, knickknacks, quilts, jam. Get yourself a piece history before its fully lost to progress and time. Who but locals and tourists who stop long enough to read placards on buildings would remember what was once a hub? Does anyone ever send a postcard from Idaho City scrawling “Wish you were here!” across the back?

My souvenir is a small burn on my chest from where the sun heated my jacket zipper while sipping my coffee on this porch. Maritime city girls like me aren’t used to solar heated branding that comes with summertime in the West.

High clouds. Birds chirping. What was it like to be a woman here during the heyday 140 years ago? Sweating in jeans and a tee, I think of the dresses and petticoats women wore and how the heavy fabric would’ve stuck to skin, an unrelenting reminder of gender rules of the day.
A door slams pulling me to the present. At the far end of the porch, a silent group of men in front of Calamity Jayne’s Restaurant collectively endure the heat. Their intimidating presence blocks the way I intended to go in search of breakfast. Would it have been this way in the 1860’s too or would I have found stubborn gumption under all those layers of fabric and hard-worn skin to go into that restaurant anyways?

The heat holds the real power. It’s not quite worth it to get up and move, skin sticking to denim and cotton. Today’s meal will consist of coffee kept warm in my aluminum mug by the blazing morning sun.

This is a town of hard work. The kind you cant wash out of the creases in your hands or from under your fingernails despite suds and hot water. A man at the other end of the porch moves through the heat, his shirt clinging to sweaty skin, outlining an oh-so-touchable back. That sinew and muscle is more likely from hard labor rather than a desire to simply look strong like some of my city-dwelling man friends.
In my distraction, I didn’t realize that the drips running down my back and between my breasts had turned into a river.

Dusty and quiet. It’s time to hit the road. I pour out my overheated beverage, slide back into my truck, and crank the A/C to full capacity. Idaho City disappears from my rear-view mirror into the quiet silence of its long-ago history.

Five Great Things From Outdoor Retailer Winter Market

Outdoor Research. Debuting our shiny new booth.

The Outdoor Retailer Tradeshow. A reunion of summer camp proportions for folks in all arenas of the outdoor world; suppliers, non-profits, guides and athletes, manufacturers, retailers, PR folks, sales reps, writers, and event organizers interested in all things that relate in every way to skiing, climbing, hiking, running, fishing, yadda yadda. Its the twice yearly opportunity to debut everything shiny and new: innovations to rock our adventure worlds, colors that will make their mark on our future closet palettes, expressions of artistic celebration for the places and adventures we love... The "#ORSHOW" is a four day extravaganza of meetings, education, selling, way too much coffee and way too little sleep.  Each show reveals something that, despite the long hours and sensory overload, sticks in my mind long after the last stretch of red carpet has been rolled up and the final crate of mannequins has been packed away. From the Outdoor Retailer Winter Market 2012 show, here are my top 5 things of 9 (the other four are coming later):

1. The OIWC's Breakfast and Awards Presentation. Powerful words from award winners Karen T'King (Pioneering Woman Award) and Liz Stahura (First Ascent Award), their presenters, Steph Davis and Julia Day and sponsor presenters, Audrey Hicks and Maile Buker were enough to fill the inspiration and motivation buckets, but the bucket filling didnt stop there. To be in a room so jam packed full of strong, motivated, and active women and men who together all support gender equality in the workplace was incredible. Moments like this feel like progress and hope grows for better opportunities for all of us in the future. Karen hit it spot on commenting, "Whether we succeed through rebellion or nurturing, well, that's probably best saved for cocktail conversation". I'd have to say its a little of both, and we could use more of both.

2. Hugs. Lots of hugs. Squeezy ones. Tall ones. Short Ones. The kind that sway back and forth. Ones accompanied by giggles. Some that smell of shampoo, clean laundry, or dawn patrol. Hugs that lift you off your feet. Ones that ooze friendship and love. They are good. All of them. Every single one is unique. Every single one feels wonderful. And if you are in any sort of hug deficit, the tradeshow is the ideal place to fill up your reserves. The show can be tough. Nonstop meetings start at 7am, followed by dinners that revolve around work and then post dinner events that end late that are also mostly about work. Coffee is one way to get through it all. But the real secret? Hugs. Nothing refills my stores of happy and energy faster or better than all the hugs. This is the absolute best part of the show, hands down. More, please.

Gelato. A great lunch option. Just bring a friend. 

3. Men With Appetites. Now, don't get the wrong idea. I like food, but alas, my food shelves fill quickly. Even my ice cream shelf. Sigh. Its such a shame to waste tasty morsels of culinary goodness, especially a two-egg-with-bacon breakfast. Luckily, in this industry heavily weighted towards the male gender, its pretty much an absolute that meals will be had with men who double as skiers, alpinists, ice climbers, etc. and who require copious amounts of food to sustain their fuel stores for those sports. Its so great because I can order whatever I want. They order what they want, (and maybe they even order an extra waffle for the table - awesome). I eat a little of what I order, grab a bite of what they have - sharing is caring! - and then leave the rest for them to consume in preparation for whatever adventure they've planned next. Its great. Very rarely does a plate get cleared that isn't fully cleaned of the last crumb even though I dont have to do the cleaning.

4. You too can be a save-the-world scientist. Before an unfortunate experience with a chemistry class in college, I entertained the idea of being a park ranger, veterinarian, or environmental biologist. Alas, it was both my first and last chemistry class. Luckily, Adventurers and Scientists for Conservation can provide me or you the opportunity to contribute to scientific research that effects the places we love to play and the species who inhabit those places even if we dont have the letters P, H, and D at the end of our names. The organization is built on the brilliant idea of providing opportunities for the average hiker, climber, and bird watcher to tap into their inner field researcher by collecting samples while out hiking/climbing/calling to birds. The samples are provided to researchers matched with the hiker/climber/birder who are doing specific studies and need an inexpensive way to gather data. Not that I ever really need an excuse to get out there, but the idea of my adventures having a value beyond my own personal satisfaction and enjoyment makes it all that more meaningful.

Yes, please.

5. Boots. They are the one girly impulse I cant help. Ariat Boots sprung into my life a couple years ago at the show. Speed walking from one corner of the convention center to another, I was stopped dead in my tracks by beautiful creations of leather, wood, rubber, and color. Holy smokes, sister, brother. Since, the Little Green House has acquired two pairs, and I'm not ashamed to admit a third pair are now on their way to join the party. The most comfortable post-climbing footwear and the only things that didn't make my feet hurt standing day after day at the show. Their upcoming fall selection is no exception, with gorgeous new styles to satiate your inner cowgirl, city girl, English countryside girl, or climber girl. Call this a shameless product plug, but you'll probably also call me to dish how much your feet love you after you get a pair.

Where the Streets Have No Pavement: A Colorado Retrospective

Right. Take note.

Flying from Denver to Montrose, there was no sudden lightening bolt realization. It was simply understood from the get-go. This is a place like no other. The tarmac and flat plains east of Denver fell away to ridges, rock faces, sharp peaks, and rippling black-green trees as we ascended higher into the sky. The dual explosion of me out of my seat and amazed expletives from my mouth were unavoidable when the Black Canyon drifted by my window. WHAT IS THAT!?! I was so dazzled with the spectacle below, I hardly had time to freak out about the teeny plane I was trapped in or whether or not this visually non-aerodynamic beast would be able to land on the frozen ground. The thought did cross my mind that I was happy I wore my biggest belt buckle and pink cowboy boots.

The 38th state in our fine country, Colorado shares borders with 7 other states. Seven! (an amazing thing for a Seattleite who’s state borders only 2). While none are marked with any natural boundaries, the 104,000+ square miles of its territory are pretty jam packed with natural wonders. Like the San Juans. The view of which is infectious and enhanced even more with a full moon while I’m soaking in a 104degree outdoor hot springs nestled at the base of 12,000’+ peaks. But as I mentioned above, the natural treasures of the Centennial State really were no surprise. However here are 6 unexpected fascinating wonders I discovered in Colorado mountain towns that you wont find anywhere else, maybe. (or maybe you will, how do I know?)

1. Tornado shelters in the airports.

Dirt road.

WHAT?! I’m equipped with an avi beacon, a SPOT, a sharp knife for cutting stuck rope, prusiks or fending off wild bears, breathable, wicking, insulating clothing, a large thermos and various other outdoor mountain sport accouterments. I’m not prepared for tornadoes and hope to be near an airport if one strikes since the clear signage in the airports will direct me where to go. Otherwise I’ll be that ridiculous person you read about in the paper running down the street with her arms flailing above her head who gets picked up over here and dropped over there when one strikes. I did not know Colorado was tornado territory.

2. Night time driving speeds.

I know about Montana’s “suggested” speed limits. I’ve experienced the Hawaiian tendency to drive 10-15mph below posted limits. But different speeds for the night time on black signs with white sparkly, reflective writing? Elk, bear, and rabbit can be heard rejoicing from curve to sketchy curve of the Million Dollar Highway. Which brings me to...

Honesty policy. Order the NY Times and
it just shows up in this bin. And
no one will snitch it. 

3. The Million Dollar Highway

Connecting Ouray and Silverton, US HWY 550 is one of the most beautiful and terrifyingly white-knuckle stretches of highway that runs past Bear, Battleship, and Sultan Peaks not to mention over Red Mountain Pass. Drive it some day, you’ll be happy you did and will come away with pics your friends will drool over. If you happen to drive it with a local ski guide, you’ll also come away with a list of potential descents that may take a lifetime to tick off. I don’t know if its so dangerous because of the potential avalanche hazards (56 avi paths in 25 miles) or if its because the views are so gorgeous, you’re liable to get distracted ogling and photographing them and in the process drive right off the road plunging into the gorge below. Its wise to go as a passenger in the car of an experienced MDH driver.

4. Bruises. You cant avoid them, so toughen up, buddy.

While yes, this part of Colorado includes some pretty classic Western towns, you probably wont get into a bar fight unless you’re a real jerk and deserve it. Everyone here is so nice they’re more likely than to help you keep to your feet while walking on an icy sidewalk after last call. However, the name of the game here includes ice, snow, dirt, or rock. And its steep, anyway you take your play. If I didn’t come home with bruises that are just as purple and yellow a week after acquiring them, I would consider this a very unsuccessful trip. Shins, knees, thighs, arms - even the fingers on my right hand are swollen and bruised from accidentally punching the ice while desperately looking for a solid stick.

Everyone has chainsaw bears

Everything out there is extreme and requires commitment: elevation, sustained difficulty of ice/rock/ski route, swiftness of changing weather, heartiness of fellow adventure partners, effort of heart to pump blood fast enough. From the moment you step out the door, your faced with endless options. The hardest part of your day will be picking which activity to do first.

5. Dirt roads. One block off of main street.

I’ve been on plenty of dirt roads. Most hikes and many approach trails are found at the end of dirt roads. A few of my favorite hot springs require bumpy dirt road travel to get to the soaking. In most of the mountain towns I’ve been in, the dirt starts about 5 miles out of town. But dusty, gravelly, mixed-with-ice dirt roads on either side of Main Street aka the highway? That is new. Being in a town with only one paved road and the rest au natural felt like a step into some entirely new, stress-free, back-to-nature-ish alternate world. I liked it. Pavement didnt matter, it was all about the mountains, about the play, about sitting down to have a conversation with the one other person occupying the coffee house, bar, or chocolate shop. My kind of place.

Historic "trash" left from mining days.

6. Hot springs.

I admit, I’ve been spoiled. The mountain towns I’ve spent a lot of time in happen to be in Idaho and they have great, convenient access to hot springs. Quite honestly, I didnt think other places existed that are as great as those Idaho mountain towns. Was I ever wrong. Not only did these Colorado towns have spectacular mountains and access to them, they also had superb hot springs worthy of a day or two of total laziness. You really wouldn’t even need a day. Go play from sunrise til you burn out and then they are so dang close to town, you can spend the afternoon soaking without much effort. How to get there? Turn off Main Street onto that dirt road, walk about 10 steps and BAM! you’re there. Easy like a Sunday morning.

Perhaps I should’ve kept knowledge of these 6 wonders to myself. Why the whole world doesn’t live in a town like Ouray, Silverton or Ridgeway is a mystery (of course, I dont live there either so who am I to talk). But the kindness of the locals, beauty a stone’s throw from the back porch, and access to every kind of amazing outdoor playground made it awfully tough to head home.

Eleven Lessons from '11

Yes.

The results of my unofficial, undocumented, and totally unscientific poll report that twenty-eleven was a tough year for a lot of folks and is one not worth repeating. Not to sound completely depressing, I certainly had moments of incredible fun and time with friends and family that I wouldn't trade for anything, my sides still ache from laughing so hard over scrabble games and funny dogs and ridiculous mishaps. Opportunities abounded to learn through those good parts and all that muck and yuck too. 


While looking forward to 2012 feels good and right, here is a little review of what I figured out throughout the last twelve months.

* Its not failure if you haven't stopped trying. The expiration date might have come and passed but everything lasts longer than the blue numbers stamped on the package (you can sometimes even rub that stamp until it disappears completely and then just write in a new date in the old one's place!). Trust me on this, I've only ever had really bad food poisoning once and it was from a brand new container of tofu, and really, thats not all that surprising from gelatinous soy and doesn't prove anything about anything. I had one big goal 2011 that I didn't reach. There were a few moments of frustration over being so far from where I wanted to be, but if I had pushed it, I may not have had opportunities for unexpectedly incredible times with great friends. Those were not to be missed and neither are the plans I still have for things like climbing. So I think I'll write in that new expiration date and just conveniently forget to leave off the year. Maybe 2012 is the year of the big-for-me-climbs and maybe its not, but here's looking at you, 5.9.

If I dont fly, I wont get to see mountains from this viewpoint

* Spend time with the parents and ask them for a story. They are fascinating, wonderful people who have spent the last twenty or thirty years listening to the stories of their offspring. But in those last twenty or thirty years they've done quite a lot of story-worthy stuff themselves. And its pretty awesome having the chance to hear those tales.

* Graffiti is a fascinating universal language. Spain, Iceland, Tennessee, Seattle - all fairly different places, all home to awesome street art. Museums can be specatcular but sometimes taking the time to stroll random, unfamiliar roads provides the best art show imaginable. Dont forget to look up.

* No matter how toasty the day is and how refreshing that dirty river looks do NOT soak hot feet in a contaminated river. Never, ever.

Icelandic Art

* It is ok to let the tears fall when others are around (what is this, rocket science? you ask. apparently so, since this one has taken 33 years to figure out). It is ok to lay on the floor in the fetal position alongside a very full glass of red wine and a bowl of peanut m&m's while friends move around to brew tea, bring pints of ice cream, make laughter through tears and hand over the roll of TP when those tears and the accompanying snot are just too proliferous. This is the recipe for Heal Your Heart soup.

* Fried pickles are as good as everyone says. Sweet tea? Not so much.

* Dogs dont care about the water temperature. So take a bubble bath BEFORE washing the stinky dog. Its hard to wash off soapy bubbles with freezing cold water.

Desperation makes random
food a great snack surprise

*  Sometimes wonderful things are lost, and we wont ever get over them. It's ok. In fact, don't recover, just don't do it! Because when you don't get over it, you wont have a chance to forget, and all those times you think of what you lost gives you an opportunity to think back on a great memory and then to smile, maybe even chuckle to yourself a little too loud until the guy across the train looks up and over at you because you just couldn't contain it. And those smiles and chuckles are good things. So think of what you lost, think of them a lot. Think and smile and keep that smile on your face because its beautiful and radiates goodness to everyone you meet, everyone you pass by and say hello to and it radiates back inside of you, too. It'll light you up, that memory and that smile. So keep it on. Even if sometimes its watered down with a few tears that fall into your vanilla ice cream.

That's it. That's all. Not much of a story, in fact this really isnt a story at all, just some ramblings from the last year before jumping with two feet into this year. Wishing a good 2012 all around with plenty of moments for creating great stories.