Jenmenke

Road Warrior

Road Warriors

Road Warriors Three Day Seven

Thursday, 8/4/2011

Eggs and toast for breakfast. Then sandwich making and Jeep-packing and off to Imogene Pass.

There was lots of traffic this year, as expected. In 2009, we were never quite sure if we were on the right road to the pass, since we only ever saw about four groups throughout the whole day. This year it was a veritable convoy of Jeeps, ATV’s and various other vehicles. Still, compared to what I imagined based on the campgrounds and town, it wasn’t quite as crowded as I thought. Not too much waiting, which was good.

We were stopping and taking lots of group family shots for potential Christmas Card shots, generally enjoying ourselves.

..Until a ranger  told us Imogene Pass would take 3.5 hours to Telluride. Some quick math from the backseat told us we would have about 9 minutes to shop in Telluride. Whoops.Dave took the wheel determined to break a new record. Shopping in Telluride was a very close second in importance behind the Dunes on the kid’s “must do’s.”

We stopped once at the peak for pics and raced to the bottom.

Dave upped the RPM’s, cut out all scenic overlooks and we made it in 2.5 hours, increasing our shopping time to one hour and 9 minutes. It was a little rainy — just like last time! — but not too bad. Good people watching. Seriously, who are these people?

Morgan bought a bracelet, Charlie a hoodie, and me a necklace & earrings. Dave was content to watch us while he conducted business on his Blackberry to pay for our indulgences.

A quick stop at the grocery store for french bread and bananas and we were back on the road. This time, like two years ago, by way of Ophir Pass.

Dave was gunning for Ouray since the Jeeps were supposed to be returned by 5 pm. There was no way we were going to make that, but he was going to try. God help us all.

[non journal addition: does anyone else besides me realize how stupid this entire trip sounds? vacations are supposed to be restful and instead we created for ourselves a trip mired in stress. every single day it seems like we were ‘late’ for something; hurrying to get somewhere. it sounds no different than yesterday, today and tomorrow. I can assure you it was fun. But sill. I want a re-do. end of non-journal edit]

It was 4:00 when we left Telluride. The ranger’s estimate of 1.5 for Ophir from Telluride to Ouray turned out to be more accurate than his estimate for Imogene. So it goes without saying that we were late. It didn’t seem to matter though. The Menke crew was all whipped up over nothing and the laid back, sight-seeing Koo-car never even realized there was a problem. They had it right.

R E L A X

The menu for our last night of camping is always the favorite. Not mine, mind you, but the kids. And Dave’s too, since I just asked him. (Spaghetti.) I was a little nervous though, about my quantities. My “thing” when prepping for the trip is to predict the exact amount of food we will eat and yet have NO leftovers. As you can imagine, this is a fine line. However, over the years, I’ve gotten pretty good at it by keeping notes. When packing for our trip, I pull my list from the previous year and see things like this:

• 1 can green curry, 1 pkg chicken thighs (do not even think about bringing 2 cans. It’s too much!!)

But the addition of  the Koo’s put a whole new, complicated spin on things. So far I was doing OK, but not without the strain of worry and hand-ringing.

My green curry meal went OK. I brought 2 cans and lots of ingredients, and we did have leftovers, but nothing unmanageable.

I was verbally heckled about the meager taco meat amount, but it ended up being PERFECT, only having to throw away about 1/2 cup of meat.

The lead up to spaghetti, though, had me sweating bullets. And Jan upping the ante with her voluminous amounts of food for kabobs and foil dinners didn’t help my insecurities.

The anticipation for this meal was epic. And all I could think about was my carefully laid plans, standing at the stove in Watertown, carefully measuring out 8 precise cups of sauce for 8 people.

WHAT HAD I BEEN THINKING?? I was going to be flayed alive by this spaghetti-loving crowd, who had already scared me into buying more linguine by convincing me the box and a half I brought with would be insufficient. What would happen if I didn’t have enough sauce? Would they try to eat me? Where is that switchblade of Charlie’s….

I decided to bluff my way through.

…and make a LOT of cheese bread. Those dumb kids always fall for cheese bread, eating way too much and not leaving room for dinner.

And some veggie apps to clean out the cooler.

And wine. Lots of wine. Those dumb Koo-cat’s always fall for wine.

Yes. This could work.

Then I laid out the rules. I serve this same crowd spaghetti every Christmas Eve, and I know how much gets thrown away. There was no WAY I we were going to be throwing away plates of food tonight. Not with this much riding on it.

So I sat the kids down and scared them good about not taking more than they planned to eat or face the wrath. Well, I should qualify that: I scared the Koo Kids. My own kids aren’t scared of me anymore. –Except when I’m giving Dave the silent treatment. For some reason that gets them kinda freaked out, which is at least something since it doesn’t get any reaction from Dave…

So anyway, they started small and ate what was on their plates. I got to approve each plate as it went to the dishpan. I think I scared them so much that it suddenly appeared they weren’t eating enough and I had to start yelling at everyone to eat more! I mean really. The whole affair was very stressful.

In the end, it was perfect. We ate ALL the noodles I brought with me and NONE of the new noodles. And we threw away about 2 spoonfuls of sauce.

I really am amazing.

Really. I am.

Lydia had disappeared with her new book into the magical world of muggles and wizards. Yes, after 10 years or whatever it’s been since Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone first hit the shelves, Lydia Mae wants to read them. I said, “Good for you!” And, “We’ll see you in about two years when you are done.” Regardless of the timing, it’s a worthwhile venture. They are great books.

And she’s obviously enjoying herself enough to forgo the night’s other anticipated food event: Banana Boats — Surely the most disgusting dessert ever concocted.

I mean really.

It was enough to make anyone head off to bed. Or at least me.

Road Warriors Three, Day Six

Wednesday 8/3/11

OH WHAT A NIGHT!

(who can read that without thinking …Late December back in 63? Not me.)

Peace! Quiet! Solitude! This. THIS is what camping is supposed to be! A few coyotes in the night, a couple of distant cow moos and that’s it. No dogs. No generators. No babies!

Dave planned to make chocolate chip pancakes to cheer Morgan up. But, in the middle of the preparation it was discovered that Jan had the chocolate chips in their car at the resort. Morgan does not subscribe to the same set of camping beliefs as me — that, you know. But, Morgan also does not subscribe to the same set of pancake beliefs as me. She believes chocolate chips were made for pancake batter. This was going to be a serious problem, potentially setting back her recovery indefinitely…

What to do. What to do. If anyone else has a 16 year old daughter, then they can appreciate the situation for what it was: a true crisis.

I can’t remember if it was Morgan or Dave’s idea to use a Butterfinger. Genius or criminal? I can’t decide. She thought they were delicious. And, another crisis was averted.

We all relaxed with our various vices while we waited for the Koo’s to show up.

Dare I admit we had 4 bars of cell and data service? Is that criminal as well? The kids kept saying, “This is so STUPID! We are in the MIDDLE of NO WHERE and have FOUR BARS. We have NO BARS at home. This is so STUPID!”

I told them to stop complaining.

After enough relaxing we started calling the Koo’s. It was time to motivate. The plan was to either camp another night in this blissful oasis (or hellish nightmare, depending upon the speaker) fish & swim in the river, hike, etc… OR, hike the property, pack up and move out.

The Koo’s had decided they didn’t want to take the time to see Mesa Verde (we’ve seen it) which morphed our options yet again. With no Mesa Verde, there would be no need to go so far west before heading north. And while I looked forward to seeing some new scenery on the road to Telluride, we were thinking it might be smarter to stick to what we know because of the crowds (a relative term). Which would mean we would head north in Durango and go to Ouray as we have done before — which would shave at least a couple hours off the day’s drive — a good thing since, once again, we would be chasing the clock to get dinner cooked before dark.

I have to say that this “no planning” agenda that I claim to love so much becomes just a bit more stressful when there is another family involved. I have no idea why. I think it must be some form of guilt. Like we are in some way responsible for the chaos. Which, I suppose we are in a way, since they are adapting to our methods. Which makes me feel guilty. Which makes me feel the need for a beer. Which usually makes me feel better. And then we start all over again.. But I digress…

Due to unpopular demand, we decided to hike and leave. The kids — ALL of them — were pissing and moaning and pissing and moaning about the sandwiches I was making for lunch. They piss and moan about everything! We sent them off to the river with Morgan at the wheel. I mean really. Who invited them, anyway?

Meanwhile Dave, Jan, Wes and I hiked for about an hour. We didn’t see any wildlife, but Wes is certain he stumbled upon a mountain lion’s lair. Not a den, but an area it lounged and ate its kill. There was a fresh, semi-meaty bone nearby and other older ones. Needless to say, he didn’t tarry.

But he did catch a cactus.

Dave and I had continued walking the fence line, both of us lost in our silent reverie, and basically coming to the same conclusions as we did when first buying the land about where we would put a house. Isn’t that funny? –That that is what we were both thinking about? And I wonder why we do this if we never plan to do it! Maybe it’s just human nature.

My rooster wounds are much better, thank you very much. Though I still can’t wear my birkies, with the strap across the puncture area.

We packed up and said goodbye to Pinion Hills once again. It always makes me sad to go. 🙁

And yes, we stopped at stupid McDonalds on our way out of Pagosa for the stupid kids who have everything.

****

We blew our first camper tire about an hour out of Durango.

It wasn’t our best effort. The camper was at a bad angle and Dave couldn’t get the jack under the axle. All in, it set us back 45 precious minutes. We blasted through Durango and all the way to Silverton where we stopped for gas. Dave also wanted to put air in the new camper tire and was frustrated because the air stem was on the back side of the wheel (he put the wheel on backwards). So he’s under the camper, grunting and carrying on. And then I see the tire going down. So I say, “Hey Dave, You are letting air out!”

No yelling. No judgement. Just a declaration of fact.

No hysteria. No blame. Just an observation he may not have been aware of, since his head was under the camper.

You would not believe the diatribe of epitaphs he unleashed on me. And I will leave it at that.

I got in to the car, shut the door and rolled up the window. And I refused to engage. Even when he knocked on it.

It should be noted for future conflict resolution that this is not a particularly effective method. But I mean really. What is?

While I attempted to get over my mad-on, we  began our hunt for a campground in Ouray. Amphitheater was the plan, but it was full. And had been since 10am when four spots opened up and were promptly claimed by the waiting line of cars that had started forming around 8am. 8 am!! It wouldn’t have mattered when we left Pagosa or if we had blown three tires. It was small comfort.

Ouray itself was crazy town! Crowds, cars, kids, tourists, Jeeps, Motorcyles, CRAZY!

And we decided right then and there: no more vacationing in late July/early August. No more.

Tensions were rising again since campgrounds are not exactly abundant in this area. Dave and I were madly googling National Forest options while Jan and Wes went to talk to the host at Amphitheater. Both sources pointed us up the 4-wheel drive Camp Bird Road to the primitive areas of Angel Creek and Thistledown. Angel Creek was too rugged for the Koo van, but Thistledown had ONE SITE LEFT (a lucky and recurring theme of this trip). The site was all by itself a bit further up the road. A little dank, but secluded and nice with a little stream running alongside it — so longs as you ignored the near-constant stream of ATV/4WD traffic coming and going from Imogene Pass. Since we, ourselves, would be heading up the road in the morning, we opted not to complain since that would make us hypocrites. And I really hate hypocrites.

After setting up, Jan started dinner and Dave, Wes and I went to pick up the Jeeps for tomorrow.

I was a bit concerned that Dave would push to go on Black Bear Pass since we had already done Imogene two years ago, but I didn’t need to worry. The Jeep place stopped allowing rentals to go on Black Bear. When we asked if it was because the Jeeps got damaged, she said, “No. Too many people died.”

I waited for her to look up and laugh, but she didn’t. Just, “nope. too many people died.” Period.

Dinner was spectacular. I can get used to someone doing the cooking. Wait — did I already say that before? Dave can’t keep his hands off anything in the fire though, so just like with the kebabs, he was the pit master, cooking the foil dinners to perfection once they hit the coals. Jan didn’t lack for ingredients. She brought 8 big yams, 5 lbs of potatoes, 2 lbs of hamburger (the total amount I brought for tacos) and about 1.5 lbs of pork. Oh, and a whole gallon bag of chopped onions.

Jan likes to have enough food.

We had enough.

More marshmallows, and?

Yes: bed.

Road Warriors Three, Day Five


Tuesday 8/2/2011

6am and all is well!

The Jaguar family packed up and moved out sometime in the wee hours of the morning. Odd that we didn’t hear them. We heard every scream and conversation the night before. They pulled in to a reserved site late in the evening, in a brand new Jaguar sedan, and proceeded to set up a camp complete with a baby and a 3 year old. It was sheer chaos and mayhem that culminated in an all out tantrum by both the toddler and the dad at about 9pm. The mom seemed completely oblivious to absolutely everything, including the audience. We were entertained, horrified, sympathetic and disdainful all at the same time. And it was all free.

Queen Jennie has a wicked migraine. And she deserves it. Serves me right, I know better than to drink three vodka tonics. The good news was, psycho-bitch-queen-from-hell, the name given to me at a wedding in Chicago by Dave during our dating years that shall remain one of the best stories ever, was absent from camp last night.

This resulted in a slow start, but the dune hike worked it out of me. In fact, I was the only one to summit the peak by hiking an additional 45 minutes or so. The weenies! The dunes are so very cool. Sorry in advance for all the photos.

We took the sand dune trail and embarked on a much less populated route to the second-highest summit.

 

Grace and Morgan, self proclaimed “anti-hikers”, stopped after the first dune. They are so lame. But it made for a cool picture!

…the rest of us soldiered on.Dave has this odd hiking technique where he moves at an alarmingly slow and methodical pace with no upper body movement. We love to imitate him. This photo shows how steep the dunes are.

When I went to the other summit that is most easily reached from the parking lot, it was like a continual caravan of people. I could not wait to get out of there.

 

Goodbye Dunes! Until we meet again!

We packed up and got on the road around noon. Rain has been all around us, threatening, but never on us. Today is no different. It looks to be raining in Pagosa. All I care about at this point in time is getting my tacos at Kips Cantina. Can’t wait!

The road into the Pagosa Valley was as beautiful as ever.

And I did get those tacos: shrimp tacos to be exact. And they were delicious!

Charlie managed to obtain ownership of a switchblade between departure from Kip’s and finding the car.

Yes.

A switchblade.

I have nothing more to say on that topic.

We stopped at the grocery store and made our first much-needed additions to our pantry: bread, triscuts, lotion (you see, I made Morgan take her lotion OUT of her hugely overpacked bag because I already had some packed in my grossly underpacked bag. And somewhere in the hysteria, I decided “oh what the Hell, she can bring her lotion, I’ll just take mine out,” and… we ended up with none. She is gleeful at my ineptitude.), and a few more snacks.

At the checkout, the cashier asked me if I had a “CityMarket card.” To which I replied, “No.”

“Where are you from,” he asked?

“How do you know I’m not from here,” I replied.

“From your accent,” said he.

“I said ‘No’, that’s all!” I cried indignantly!

…All the while sealing my fate. In the simple, mono-sylabic  utterance of ‘no,’ I belied my Minnesotan origins. In. One. Word.  He even guessed Minnesota. I continued to make a Minnesota fool of myself saying, “Oh ja? Oh ja?” to his story of a kid from Mankato who worked there for a while. Fargo be damed. That movie has made a mockery of us all. The people behind me were laughing and trying not to be noticeable. It was all very humbling.

And then we were off to Pinion Hills Ranch, Morgan’s audible moans of protest not withstanding.

The weather finally caught up with us. It began raining about two miles out of Pagosa. The original plan was to have foil dinners tonight and then take a trip to the Pagosa Hot Springs after dinner.  But everyone was already full from our somewhat late lunch at Kips. So, instead we planned to set up, snack a bit and head back to town.

After we pulled in and proceeded to wind around the empty development, finally slowing to a stop at the furthest, most remote cul de sac, ten minutes after turning off the main road, the Koo’s nearly fell out of their van, eyes wide as saucers saying, “Where the Hell ARE we?!”

The cow pies, rain, and cacti in the cul de sac were hardly welcoming for the tenters. A split second decision was made to turn their van around and get a room at the venerable Hot Springs Resort in Pagosa.

Elation in OUR car quickly turned sour when it was learned that the Menke’s would not follow suit. We have a pop-up, dammit and I’ve been waiting for this night, and my own slice of heaven, the whole damn trip. I would NOT be denied.

So the Koo’s left and we set up camp. As I write this, Morgan is curled up in the camper with her beloved iPhone either

  1. texting
  2. watching old episodes of The Office
  3. reading a book

It matters not. I am just happy the sobbing has stopped.

Dave, Charlie and I are tucked under the rarely-used pop-up’s canopy. Reading, writing and watching the weather.

While I find it hard to believe we ever bought this land, I do truly love it. I’m not sure if I can imagine living here for real. But it is fun to pretend. That’s why I like camping. It’s like playing house when I was little. It kind of feels the same.

The rain picked up steam and it became hard to stay dry under the awning, so we packed things up and headed in to meet the Koo’s at the springs in Pagosa. It was raining and sunny at the same time and we saw the most amazing rainbow, start to finish.

The Springs are spendy — $20 a person — but they are a fun departure from the standard hot spring pool, in that they have many, many hot tub-sized pools at different temps with different views and different characters populating them. Morgan and Grace, for example met some very friendly 16 year old boys who kept them company most of the evening. Dave and I, meanwhile, in the River Pool with sand bottom met the directors of the Buddhist Temple that we pass on Truejo Road on the way to our property. We’ve always wondered about that place and here we meet the directors! Jan and Wes, we found out later, had spent about 20 minutes looking all over for us and kept running in to some yoga-pose girl who enjoyed meditating on the edges of various pools, in alternating poses, that best displayed her assets.

Regardless, a fun time was had by all. Way better than the naked springs from 2009, right?

It was briefly discussed to let the Menke kids crash on the floor of the Koo’s room, but in the end we squashed that plan. It just sounded like a pain in the logistical butt. Plus, there would have been all this pressure on Dave and I to have some big romantic night all alone in the camper. It all seemed rather taxing. After all, it was already way past our camping bedtime.

So off we went.

One. Big. Happy. Family. In our trusty little camper. So fun!

Road Warriors Three, Day Four

Monday 8/1/2011

Another good night of sleep, and up early. I suppose when you are asleep by 9pm, it becomes difficult to sleep much past 6am…

We found out from the Camp Host that a mountain lion is a frequent visitor to site #15 (ours) at Cascade Campground. He apparently likes to poop right about where Grace and Lydia were sleeping. Dave is sad. He wanted to see a mountain lion. I think Grace and Lydia are not sad. I think they are happy. To be alive.

Since the Queen mandated the plan to stay at the Dunes tonight, we finally had a relaxing morning of sitting around, cooking some bacon, eggs and pancakes (and marshmallows for dessert. seriously.).

Really this is day four and it is seriously the first time we have not had to race into high gear, taking down camp and getting on the road to the next checkpoint. And I gotta say, I liked it!

During our leisure hour, it was decided to stop at the Princeton Hot Spring Pool for a much needed shower and swim — heavy emphasis on the shower part, because you couldn’t do one without the other. No one really cared all that much about the swim, Morgan declaring that she thinks hot springs are, for the most part, “gross.” But if it meant a shower at the end, there would be no complaints from her or anyone else.

As we began to pack up, there was a bit of dissension at the other end of camp between the sibs. Oddly, this seems to motivate my kids to do more and bicker less. Interesting. V E R Y   I N – T E R – E S T –  I N G . And I’m left to wonder how I can replicate this glitch in their programming at home. Maybe if Dave and I pretended to fight at home they would do more around the house? No, that can’t be right. We fight all the time. We’d wouldn’t need to pretend. Oh, nevermind.

The pool and the shower were divine. Simply devine, declared the Queen. Sadly for you (or not), I have no shots from the shower.

*********

On to the Dunes.

BUT WAIT! Isn’t this the place that had the green tea ice cream from year’s past? In Poncha Springs?

Yes. yessssss it is.

The Queen demanded a recess and the convoy obeyed. And she claimed the very last scoop of her beloved green tea ice cream. Pad Thai was enjoyed by all. Though the cream cheese puffs, mango malts, and cold beer weren’t bad either…

[non journal addition: I’ve looked on the blog for the part where I wrote about this in 2009 and can’t find it, but it’s the same place that had the sign that said “Pad Thai Ice Cream” that was so funny and intriguing we had to stop in 2004 and again in 2009 and again this year. The sign is the same, but they fixed the syntax]

THEN it was on to the Dunes, the Queen being oh so happily fed.

We arrived about 3:15pm. We had called ahead to make sure there would be enough spots the day before and were told that while they could not guarantee anything, Mondays and Tuesdays were their slowest days, usually not filling up until later evening. Au contraire: There were 15 spots left when we got there and they were full by 4:00. Crazy times, man.

We attribute this insanity to the fact we are vacationing the fair land of Colorado about three weeks earlier than usual. It obviously makes a huge difference. Alas, sites 49 and 51, our favorites, were taken. Lame Loop 1, with the rest of the riff raff was our fate. By chance, we did get spots close to each other though.

We set up and relaxed with many-a-drink. The Queen finally received her desired vodka tonic, a mere 49 hours later. To make up for the delay, Cabana Boy refreshed me with two more. Never a real good idea. Cabana Boy knows better than that… We had a nice view of the dunes and watched various groups on the summit through the binocs. Eventually the kids bored of their electronica (a first!) and our intertia, and headed down to the Dunes by themselves.

Ahhh. Peace. (Until the Jaguar pulled up, that is. More on this later)

They brought back these (and more) shots:

 

Tacos were on the menu, and after a sufficient amount of leisurating, I got to work.

The tacos did not disappoint.

Nor did the seemingly unending array of fun size candy bars that I dispelled from the food bin for dessert: Kit Kat, Butterfinger, Twix, Baby Ruth, Snickers. I mean really. Isn’t that what camping is all about? Junk food?

Charlie continued to perfect his Giant Puffball marshmallow technique. I just don’t get it. I’ve never seen marshmallows puff up this this before. And it makes us all wonder if there has been a change in the recipe or something.

We didn’t ponder it too long. It was bedtime. I know that because the sun was going down.

Road Warriors Three, Day Three

Sunday 7/31

6 am and I am awake. That is just so odd.

The idea was to say we were leaving at 8 am and to plan on actually leaving at 8:30 am. This is more like it. I can actually function within these reasonable parameters.

The Menke’s beat the Koo’s at camp take-down by about 15 minutes. We are getting our sea legs. Jan and Wes seemed to be a little thrown off by our efficiency and sense of purpose. They are frustrated with the girls and — get this — their messy van! Jan has a messy van this morning! I have never seen anything so soothing to my shattered confidence and this makes me happy. The forecast for Boulder is 96 degrees. And this does not make me happy.

****

The road out of Arapahoe National Forest (I, of course, thought we were in Roosevelt National Forest. Where we would have been if we had taken the correct turns, I think.) — County 14 — was far prettier than the area we camped in. The many campgrounds that we had hoped to stay in were gorgeous, right on the river we hiked the day before. And full. This was a Sunday morning and we saw many waiting to get spots even at the end of the weekend. So maybe those wrong non-turns actually saved us some time finding a site.

We lost the Koo’s somewhere on the way back South. We apparently… missed a turn.

I’m not making this up.

We stopped for gas at a 7-11 on I-25 north of Boulder. I mention this only because Dave surprised me with a Mountain Dew Slurpee! Is that love, or what? Maybe he was making up for my grave disappointment and loud protestations at not getting to at least drive through the heart of Rocky Mountain National Park.

I mean really.

Why even go through the last 24 hours if not to see what we came for? I ask you this. I’m asking again.

And again.

Why?

Oh! A slurpee! Mountain Dew!

…and it was never mentioned again. Perhaps I need to stop calling Dave clueless.

The plan was to meet at Chautauqua (that would be an AWSOME Words With Friends word) Park in Boulder for lunch and a hike up to the Flat Irons. Jan apparently has fond memories of this activity.

Wow! I did not know that Boulder was such a city! Very cute, but very, very busy.

And HOT. Ninety five degrees when we arrived at the park. Parking was a challenge. I would compare it to finding a spot by Lake Calhoun on a sunny Saturday afternoon during the Uptown Art Fair for a Surburban and a pop-up trailer. We got extremely lucky and found two spots not too far away from each other and did an amazing rendition of a pit crew, backing the camper into the first spot, unhitching and getting the car into the other spot, in record time, all while about 7 cars backed up waiting for us and a baby screamed its fool head off across the road while the hapless parents tried to take pictures of it on a fake fur carpet in mid-90 degree heat with netting stuck on to the tree behind it. Seriously, what are people thinking?

The hike was quickly vetoed by the masses.

We ate some lunch from the cooler. Morgan’s favorite thing to do!! And then headed for the campus.

Very pretty. But hard to get excited about much. Except maybe this fountain:

It was too damn hot.

Next, we hit Pearl Street — thee place to be — and promptly lost all steam. I say this with some authority because even Morgan lost her will to shop. And this is saying something. She hit the Prana store on the corner and after that I heard nothing more from her.

Charlie continued to hang from my arms, leaning on me, touching my hair, petting me like a dog and saying things like, “Why don’t they have an Airsoft store? Are you SURE they don’t have an Airsoft store? This is so stupid. When are we leaving.”

Do questions like that need answers? I say no.

Here’s what we DID do on Pearl Street: ATE SHAVED ICE. Many, many, many of them. It’s my best memory of Boulder: Mango, Cherry, Lemonade, Lime, and more. Dave, who never eats anything frivolous, had three. I figure, if he can count how many tacos I eat, I can count how many shaved ices he ate.

After leaving Pearl Street, Dave dropped Morgan and I off at a store to buy a CU t-shirt while he & Charlie picked up the trailer and coolers that we simply left out in the (96 degree) shade to try to preserve our food. (rather than leaving them in an even hotter car, that is.)

He picked us up and we headed out of town with me at the wheel. Koo’s were planning to drive by Jan’s old house and meet up with us on the road.

As we left town, the thermometer on the card read 97. When I was loudly bemoaning this fact for about the sixth time that day, Dave (or Charlie, or whoever it was who had the nerve to contradict me) said, “But it’s a dry heat.” I said, “WHATever! It’s MF HOT!” Only, I must have said the unabbreviated version because Charlie said “Geez Mom, you are really talking bad this trip.” Dave quickly concurred. Morgan just laughed because I think she secretly thinks it’s hilarious.

So now, I also vow to clean up my mouth.

But just to let you know how hot I, personally, am as I sit in the blaring sun of the driver’s seat: I have my hair in a high ponytail with an elastic headband holding my bangs off my foreheadscape. A here-to-never-been-done-before-in-46-years look that was captured on camera and I may even share if I get real brave. We’ll see. Even I have my limits.

Here’s the good news though: over the pass SW of Denver on 285, the temperature dropped all the way down to 70 and pretty much stayed there for the remainder of the way.

Ahhhhh.

Since the plan had been modified the day before, we were no longer barreling for the Dunes. Instead we were looking for a site outside of Buena Vista or therebouts. Dave was next to me, researching on his iPad, using a combination of its 3G AT&T connection, and my Verizon MiFi wireless hotspot, switching between the two when one network got bad.

Now, I have not talked too much about the whole electronica thing, because I find the whole situation worse than embarrassing. –Just know that we were wired.

Dave being Dave, however, does not really give much time or attention to the details of internet connectivity. He just wants it to work. (That’s a nice way of saying he just doesn’t get it.)

So, when he is researching campsites on his iPad in the hinterlands of Colorado, in deeply forested, low mountainous valleys, and starts jabbing at his screen in a violent fashion, I can pretty much tell you what’s coming:

“…grumble, grumble… this piece of *%$#@! sh*t..” (who’s got the potty mouth now, Dave?)

To which I will usually reply something like, “Dave, we are in a deep valley, I’m sure service is bad here.” And he will say,

“BUT I’VE GOT FIVE BARS!”

And I then try to explain that he shows 5 bars because he is right next to the wireless hotspot and the 5 bars represent only that–proximity to the wireless device, like the router at home. I go on to (patiently) explain that he needs to look at the MiFi to see what its signal strength is, because it likely has no signal at all.

“BUT I HAVE FIVE BARS!”

Oh never mind.

I have a couple things to note from today:

  1. Igloo coolers are dumb. They have pointy uninsulated tops that you can’t stack things on top of. You can’t open them in a tight spot. They don’t keep things cold. I do not like Igloo coolers.
  2. Dave is a hypocritical passenger. Need I expand on that? I think not.

[non-journal edit: yes. you do need to expand on that Jennie, as I have no idea what that means. I presume to guess that it means he yells at me when I’m driving for doing things he does all the time. But that is a guess and only based on day to day life and not actual memory. end of non-journal addition.]

*****

We headed up to Chalk Creek Canyon to get a site at one of three campgrounds. On the way, we quickly realized we had been up this road before. I had the journals from our previous Colorado trips in the glovebox and we found the entry, but I had failed to record the details. So they were no help at all, except for the fun I had re-reading them. Dave was certain the campgrounds were icky, dusty and dank. I said, “Those words are mutually exclusive. How can you have dusty and dank?” Basically I was disagreeing with him and he did not like it. Tensions were rising once again, and as we passed car after car after car after RV after RV after RV, it began to sink in that we may not even be able to find a site in this strange area.

Sure enough, the first two campgrounds were full. But the third time’s the charm. We scored a single handicapped spot that they do not open up to non-handicapped campers until after 7 pm. Which makes me think of reverse discrimination and all that, but I will refrain from going there now. This is not the time or the place.

We squeezed two tents and the camper into a single spot

— perfectly legal, apparently, because 8 people is the max. Jan set about to making dinner: Chicken Kabobs and Risotto.

Hmmm. Sounds ambitious.

It was. The long prep and cooking time gave the planning committee lots of time, however, to chew on the plan. While the line cooks were busy skewering meat,

The planning committee was, once again, sipping cool, tall vodka tonics that materialized only after I had popped my beer. While they discussed business, I sat back, eating cheese, drinking beer, listening and waiting for an offer of my own tall, cool vodka tonic. (I would be waiting a long time.)

I listened to various this and that’s about the plan, growing increasingly alarmed at the cavalier way in which the decision about our next days were being made. Frankly, it’s the same feeling I’ve had while sitting in various city counsel or board meetings over the years. I used to think boards made sound decisions based on solid research and good discussion. I remember sitting in some of my first board meetings with my jaw agape — surely they won’t vote on this right now, will they? How can they? Do we have a second? Passed! What the…?

And, sadly, this drink-sipping planning committee appeared no different.

I could sit in silence no longer. It was speak now or forever hold my peace! I jumped in with my opinion (The right one.), that the Dunes deserved a full day and not a drive-by at noon like they seemed to be agreeing on. What were they thinking? It was the most important part of the trip! When our kids learned we were going back to Colorado for a third time this year, they said that was fine, so long as we went to the Dunes again! Getting there at noon, when the sun turns the sand into hot lava and spending an hour or two, was not going to cut it! Grace and Lydia had never even seen them!

***pant, pant, gasp ***

I proposed the full monty, including spending the night at the campground in order for the kids to have adequate time there.

“The Queen has spoken,” said Wes.

And the decision was made.

I’m glad the Koo’s are fitting in so well!

Dinner was absolutely delicious. What a treat to sit on my big fat butt while dinner magically appeared on my plate.

This is what camping must be like for Morgan and Charlie!

After our late dinner and a few obligatory marshmallows, the Menke’s started their nightly teeth-brushing ritual and made their way toward the camper. I think the Koo’s are a little stunned to realize we all go to bed so early. I think they had this idea we’d stay up late, sitting around the fire, sipping wine and having deep and wonderful discussions.

Not.

Night night everyone!

Road Warriors Three, Day Two

Friday, 7/31/2011

There is something about waking up in North Sterling State Park Campground that reminds me of a parking lot. A nice parking lot. But still, a general parking lot feel.

And it is early! Jan the RacKOOn was rustling around the inside of their van, parked about six feet from our heads. She was either trying to be quiet and the sounds were magnified like those of a loud whisper, or she was purposefully trying to get the Menkes up and off their lazy asses so we could make tracks to a more suitable locale.

Either way, it worked. And while we didn’t break camp and leave quite as early as Ms. (rac) Koo (n) might have liked — there were Froot Loops to be consumed, after all — we were out of there by 8 am. And that’s not too bad. Not too bad at all.

The theme emerging today is that the Menke’s are not on their “A” game. There’s a lot of pressure to act like we know what we are doing, what with this being about our tenth year doing a big road trip, and I find our performance thus far to be a little embarrassing. Jan has this ability to have a place for everything and everything in its place that defies explanation. I spend insane amounts of time striving for this same state. While, for her, it just seems to “be.”

And frankly, it pisses me off.

They took down two tents long before we got our one pop-up down.

Then, after leaving the campground, we:

  • took three wrong turns
  • forgot to buy ice
  • And I forgot to pee when we stopped for gas. Not my kids, mind you. Me.

That was all within the first hour. Clearly we are going to have to step it up if we want to compete.

* * *   I N T E R M I S S I O N   W H I L E    I    P U T   O N    S  O M E    M A K E – U P    A N D      * * *
Oh. My. Gosh. Seriously, we just missed the road to the campground we were planning to try first. We are so STUPID! Dave is TOTALLY blaming me. I TOLD him to go straight on 287 out of Fort Collins (cool town!) and to look for 14. Isn’t that enough? Isn’t the driver responsible for that? Can’t I curl my flippin’ eyelashes in peace??
Add to the previous list:
  • Jennie is a terrible navigator
  • Dave is a finger-pointer

Now, where was I…

O. M. G…. I swear to God, I just looked down to commence writing again and we missed the second road in to Rocky Mountain National Park after missing the first. So now we are on to Plan C because — God forbid  we turn around…

I think the Koo’s are considering a Plan D where they simply take the correct road and meet up with us at the Sand Dunes in a couple days. If I were in a car behind Dave, I know that’s what I’d do right about now.

Anyway, did I mention that Fort Collins is a lovely town? I think I did.

******

I pick up this writing this the next morning. It is never fun to have to portray yourself in a less-than-stellar light. But as I have mentioned before, I am duty-bound to the truth. Just because it is my version of the truth doesn’t make it any easier. And the truth is, I have been a crabby-pants.

Because we missed the roads to the first and the second campgrounds, we continued north to others on the (northern) list. It was hot, dusty and everything and everyplace was full, full, full. The area was ugly and seemed to be overflowing with hillbillys. Not that there is anything wrong with a nice hillbilly, but it did not add a positive element to the situation.

As afternoon faded to evening and as we were faced with a potential no-place-to-sleep crisis, we began the hunt for a dispersed camping spot.

For those unlearned in Colorado dispersed camping, this is where you camp if you have a trailer full of ATV’s and dirt bikes, a boom box with choice tunes, and a handgun with a full clip and an itchy trigger-finger.

Ahhhh, peace and…. not quiet.

And no water or bathrooms, either. But I don’t really care about that. In fact, I far prefer to find a tree rather than visit any outhouse. Any day.

Did I mention it was hot and dusty?

And hot? I think I did.

The site itself was kind of nice, if you ignored the broken glass and nails. I mean really. Are you getting a mind picture?

We made some lunch and lounged in the shade and got ready to go on a hike. Now I’m not one to complain (I actually just laughed out loud as I wrote that, and that’s saying something, considering my mood), but my swollen foot was still swollen. I was just able to get it in to my shoe after unlacing it all the way. But was still pretty sore.

I remained quiet and moody.

I really had no reason to be crabby, mind you. Aside from my foot. And the heat. Did I mention it was hot? So, I determined that I must be in my “adjustment phase” of the trip. This has been a feature of my personality since I was a child. When I was little, my mom and dad would tolerate my mood for as long as they could bear, and then they would yell at me and scare some sense in to me.

No one in my current circle has the sense to do this, so I have to do it myself. I prayed for sanity during the entire hike and sanity returned.

Thankfully. Cuz that was getting old.

Morgan is struggling with headaches. Not sure if it is from the altitude or the concussion. Either way, she is gobbling Advil and taking it easy. She is quite good at that, you know.

Charlie is picking up the slack, which is nice. But in general, both kids are being very helpful and productive. I’m not exactly sure what to make of that. Maybe they are trying to one-up their cousins. Yes… the more I think of it, that is probably it.

And I have no complaints about that.

We hiked “Big South” along the Cache Le Poudre River. There are three things that stand out from this hike:

  1. Kayaks galore
  2. Mosquitos galore
  3. Dave will simply never learn how to operate a camera.

We found out later that this stretch of river is top three in difficulty and quality for kayaking in Colorado. Due to a late snow, the road just opened the previous week — one of the reasons it was so busy. This area is also considered to be the buggiest in Colorado.

As for the camera, we have lots of “pictures” like this one:

OK. Got it!  (click that)

And only one like this one:

(which prevents me from photoshopping a new head on to Grace.)

Did I mention it was hot?

We stopped for ice in Rustic, Co on our way back to camp and were almost hit head-on by a big souped-up Jeep on a hairpin turn. Idiot hillbillies.

Upon return, I popped the requisite beer and Dave made vodka tonics for himself and the Koo’s. HEY! I would have had one of those! Darn it! He promised to make me one later. Green curry was the dinner plan, along with tomato mozzarella salad. I know I always say this, but: mmmmmm. I’m a little sad though, because my favorite meal is already over. During the course of the evening, we modified the plan yet again.

Since we are about two hours from Boulder (don’t ask me how we got so far away), and since Jan really wants to spend some time in Boulder and visit her old haunts (she went to CU), and since, based on the crowds we have encountered so far, we are thinking it might be hard to secure a camping spot by the time we get to the dunes tomorrow…

Anyway, many marshmallows later, it was decided that we would find a spot half way between Boulder and the dunes. This is starting to feel like deja vu.

It should be noted that I never did receive that vodka tonic.