Post #100!

Here's a bunch of random crap:

Working at a bike shop has some perks...the discounts and prodeals, shop tools, meeting people to ride with, etc. But this gig has a benefit that is unique: the shop is in an old feed store with a 3 story grain elevator that we occasionally get to throw stuff off of. The gig is a nice supplement to the contract work. I'm learning a ton and even got to rebuild my rear shock!


Sad and happy news for the bike. I had it in the stand to do a few adjustments and found a good size crack in the head tube. Then started looking around and found another in the bottom bracket shell. Sad to see it go. Now, I'm not posting this as a dig on a certain manufacturer out of Colorado; to the contrary, they stood behind it and had a replacement waiting for me the next day. It's a wonder that the poor frame lasted that long under my 190 pounds.



The finished product, good as new:

When I went to pick up the new frame I was met by this view. Holy Shmoley.


Made another trip to the Front Side for Mother's Day. Mom had another top done. It's not quilted yet...you have to contruct the blocks, sew them together, and then start quilting the top. Most sewers would take 9-12 months to do a project like this but she pumps out 3-4 a year. She's ridiculously talented.

Incredulous that I was actually imbibing, Matt snapped a photo during the first backyard BBQ of the year. You may know that I don't drink much - after living with gout for 15 years I'm always careful no matter how well the gout meds work.

Sam looking formidable. Wish that came in an adult size.


I made a quick trip to CB to say hello and check the PO Box...and revisit the winter that won't go away. 5" of snow in mid-May in town. Here's a pic of John, fully upright and mobile after a successful disc fusion surgery.


So there's some randomness for post #100. Time marches on. All is well. I have a bed to sleep in, a roof over my head (even if the landlord shut off the pilot light on the furnace), a sandwich and some grapenuts in my belly, trails to ride on, family and friends. I just finished a book set during the Great Depression and my perspective right now is one of gratitude. Times are thin for all of us, but it's also beautiful to see people spending less time stressing out about buying needless crap and spending time BBQ-ing, quilting, recreating, living, and loving. We're all going to make it...and we might just reconnect with our souls in the meantime!

Fruita

Sunrise, Sunset, Fruita... sure as shootin, the sage wakes up, the hillsides turn green, and little desert flowers come out of the ground. The single track is payoff for a winter of down coats, snow shoveling, mud trudging, and tourist dodging.

I ran into some complications driving out of The Exit; Monarch pass was closed with a foot of snow at the top. I finally slipped through and was Fruita bound. Fell asleep in my tent Friday night to the sound of pattering rain and woke up Saturday morning to sunshine, no wind, and a perfect 70 degrees. Short sleeve jerseys, shorts, sunscreen, and a world of trails beckoning. The ex-Pearl crew and Summit County/Chaffee County hut trip crew merged and we proceeded to eat us up some desert singletrack. My cameras both crapped out so there's very little photo documentation. You'll have to take my word for it. It was fun.

Boulder County Open Space and Mountain Parks should annex 18 Road as there were lots of team kits, scowls, and race bikes. We did our best to make up for it by smiling, giggling, and wearing thrift store and hand-me-down jerseys. The Horsethief Bench side was a little less crowded as there is more room to spread out. I think next time a weekday trip will be a good idea. Weekends are getting a bit nuts there lately. Not like I should have a reason to complain - Fruita is one big bliss nugget. At one point I caught myself riding along with a big stupid grin on my face thinking about....absolutely nothing.

The Backyard

The Backyard has abundant recreational opportunities. There's a sweet trail network that starts about a block from downtown. Some folks here had the foresight to get these things built and the network is growing weekly.

Andy, Rebecca, and I went out to explore. We ran into Wes, the mountain bike Welcome Wagon, who showed us some fun stuff to ride.



A few days later, Kelly made it down from BV for a nice hike. We followed a faint trail into an arroyo; the trail faded in and out as the route wound its way up the drainage to connect with some more established trails. We looped around on the SMT network and back to the river.

Pulling Down the Sick Gnar.

Jake, Courtney and I were having dinner with friends the other night when someone asked "why do you guys take such risks?" After exchanging puzzled looks, Jake's response was pretty smart...the risk is only perceived: working your way up a route, placing nuts and cams along the way, with a (hopefully) reliable belayer working the other end of the rope can't be that different than buckling a seat belt and turning the ignition. You can look at life as having danger lurking around every corner or you can take reasonable precautions and let it unfold.

I'm not much of a climber. I have the vertical reach of a hobbit, an even shorter attention span, and I can't fit into 90% of what Prahna manufactures. The only reason I know anything about climbing is from living 10 years in Boulder. I learned terms such as "pulling down" and "nasty flapper" so I could mock the annoying rock jocks surrounding me. But lately I've been thinking about climbing. I'm not under the illusion that climbing is without serious risks and consequences, though it is a progression of calculated risks, moving from protection piece to protection piece. You're as likely to see an engine fall off an aeroplane onto your house or to be struck by lightening before you were involved in a serious climbing related incident. I feel like life lately has been comprised of moving from cam to cam. Sometimes the run-outs are long. But I'm clipped in along the way. The belayer is attentive, relaxed, but ready. These are the realities that I have to remind myself of when I feel too far off the ground, when the bank account is low and why the hell does it take a client 8 weeks to pay an invoice, when I walk around a new town feeling strange like a stranger. That's when the connection points are nice. So thanks, all you nuts and cams. And The Belayer.

Spring, Sprang, Sprung

Guess who skate skied in short sleeves this afternoon!

Looking back at posts it seems that Western Slope Exile exists to document the changing, passing seasons as much as anything else. Spring is here in the figurative sense. Flowers are still germinating underground. Torrents of chocolate brown runoff are still locked up in the snowpack; but I showed up this morning at the Magic Meadows trailhead to catch one of the Nordic regulars in a tank top and see chunks of ice floating down the free-flowing creek; my tele boots are covered in mud from hiking through a half mile of muck on Brush Creek road; a winter's worth of dog poo is thawing in the alley. Close enough - spring has sprung.

Change is coming...and not just switching wax from extra blue to klister. I've just begun the reflection and processing that comes from the transition of one season to the next. What was this winter all about? Chasing that elusive storm cycle, finding the rhythm of a double pole kick, going from shuffling around the pancake flat Poop Loop on skate skis to pumping out a respectable V2 on The Bench, skiing Hard Slab and Hawks Nest without peeing my pants; watching the Alley Loop and Grand Traverse flow by from a volunteer's viewpoint; slinging rentals, waxing advice, and trail recommendations at the Nordic Center; my first consulting check from that big ski company....many goals accomplished. My current state of Adult Onset Adolescence makes introspection of the existential variety more difficult. It's a sad cliche of ski town life to tick off the ski resume accomplishments and ignore the stuff that really matters. Thankfully I have people close who push me, ask the difficult questions, and gently expose my inclinations toward mediocrity; people who support my desire to be more assertive and honest in my relationships. Big changes indeed.

Western Slope Exile. Well, "Western Slope" is soon to be an inaccurate geographical descriptor. I'm relocating to the east side of the Great Divide. I'll still be at 7,000 feet, under the watchful gaze of the 14,000 foot peaks of the Sawatch, but without the real and perceived isolation of being on the West Side. Most CB folks have responded to this change with a big "WHY?". Why leave paradise to live in a valley that is being encroached upon from the East Infection of the Front Range? My heart has been headed in the direction of the Arkansas Valley for over a decade. So I'm going to try it out for a season with full intention of returning to the the snow globe (CB) next ski season. I'll never know if the Ark Valley can be home until I try.

"Exile" no longer seems to be an accurate descriptor as well. I've grown so comfortable with Western Slope life, running along at a nice lope with an unplugged power cord trailing behind me. But I have the URL and I don't want to make my dozen or so faithful readers have to change their browser bookmarks. WesternSlopeExile stands for now.

Here are some photos of winter from the start to almost the finish:

Timber

Boyd, Dena, Rigal, and Ohana lost Timber to cancer last night. Rest in peace my furry buddy. When we're both on the other side we'll go for a good long run.

Spring

What do you do with the tons of snow that are left over from a winter of snow plowing? Make a 30 foot jump downtown. Colorado Freeskier revived Big Air On Elk this year. It works like this: dump a bunch of snow onto the main street in town, push it into a pile, and tow in skiers and riders at a bizillion miles per hour with snowmobiles. It's like watching airplanes take off and land on an air craft carrier. The riders went huge. These aren't the best pics, but they show the scale. It seems like the whole town turned out and it was shoulder to shoulder on both sides of the street for two blocks. Every shop and restaurant was full and it was a brilliant way to kick off spring.





Earlier in the day I took a tour up Slate River Road and the Oh Be Joyful trail. It was overcast but really warm. So warm, in fact, that I punched through knee deep into slush a couple of times. It made the creek crossings interesting, not knowing if the snow-bridges would hold or not. I ran into a couple of groups coming down from the north side of Mt. Emmons, training for The Grand Traverse (Crested Butte to Aspen backcountry race). My trip was much less ambitious. I wanted to see if the snow is setting up, what different aspects are skiing like, and how prevalent the suncrust is. It's still going to be another week or two before things set up and we have corn. Spring is in the air.