Pagosa Springs

Road Warriors Three, Day Six

September 16, 2011

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 Day 3: Astraddle-A-Saddle with Hot Bareback Rodeo Champ!

September 3, 2009

August 22, 2009

We were up “early” to get ready for horseback riding at 8:30 with Forest Bramble (what a name!) of Astraddle-A-Saddle Outfitters! (“Early” means I didn’t get my second cupacoffee in bed.) We were late, what with the need to stop at a gas station to pinch a loaf at the flush toilets and all. [That is what my journal actually says. I seriously debated the appropriateness of this term for all the world to see and have decided to Hell with it. That is why were were late: we were all holding out for the flush toilets — finding them preferable to squatting amid the sagebrush– which I had already done, thank you very much — and it took a bit longer than we had budgeted for.] It didn’t matter; Forest wasn’t bothered none.

What a cutie!! Shockingly young and handsome cowboy with blue/green eyes. Just the right height and temperament for our own blue-eyed Morgan! Imagine the babies! [yes. more inappropriate comments from the journal writer]

It was another hot, hot day. Dave rode Bandit the paint, Jen rode Patrick with the sore leg (“gol dang it”), Morgan rode Norman, a wild horse rescued from the US Gov’t and Charlie rode naughty Midnight. Five hours is, we have determined today, the Menke horseback riding limit. Fur Sure. We all loved Forest though, whose name turned out to be BRAMWELL, not BRAMBLE, which isn’t nearly as interesting. He ended up being, in addition to simply adorable, this hot dawg, World Class, Professional Rodeo Star! Great stories, super nice guy. And I just can’t wait to call him my son-in-law. Did I mention he is setting off for a new adventure in November? Le Cordon Blue Cooking School! [I kid you not. Can you imagine that reality show?] I’m sure he will teach Morgan everything he knows once they are settled in a few years. She can marry when she’s 16, right?

I digress. After riding [my butt and only my butt was sore for the next 5 days], we poked around Pagosa for a bit and then hit my all-time favorite restaurant, Kips Cantina. Everyone was very happy with their taco selections and we finished the meal by stealing a few packets of mayo from the table for sandwiches and listening to Paul Guillian… (?) an acoustic guitar/singer/songwriter. Very nice.

Storms looked to be moving in as we headed “home” to Pinion Hills. Sitting by the campfire, listening to thunder, watching lightening and trying to discern just how far away the “ghost singer” that we could intermittently hear was. Course, I could never actually call him a “ghost singer” out loud with Charlie in earshot. We’d a never been able to calm him down and get him settled. The baby tarantula was traumatic enough.

Morgan was blowing one greasy fart after another saying how full she was. Meanwhile Charlie said “I’m hungry.” Dave said, “Why don’t you have a piece of bread?” And Charlie replied, “Bread? At this hour?” Which for some reason struck me and insanely funny. Needless to say, he promptly trooped off and got himself a piece of bread and made some Signature Toast. While Charlie was gone, and after a particularly impressive lightening bolt, Dave said, “Good thing we’re sitting on these metal chairs in the middle of nowhere.” Morgan and I both freaked out and said “Shhhh! That’s the last thing you can say in front of Charlie, the StormWorrier!” His eyes get as round as saucers whenever really bad weather moves in. If he had any idea that we could be struck by lightening, well… You might as well just shoot me in the head now. Maybe he’ll grow up to be one of those StormSpotter people who call into WCCO during thunderstorms saying things like “I’m on 494 and it’s raining real hard. And it’s dark, too…”

8/23/09 Before I get to 8/23, there is one more thing that happened: The Incident of the Moth. Charlie (poor Char, he is really getting picked on today) was in bed reading aloud this very tome, when he sort of coughed and laughed and then coughed again. We all waited for him to continue, but instead he sort of started moaning. He was like, “oh. my gosh. It’s a huge moth! ….” then, “ooooh ooooh, oooooooooooh…”(moaning) Lots of chaos later, Dave got the moth outside. Charlie had apparently inhaled and sort of bit and choked on the moth, then spit it out and laughed until he realized it was a moth. We couldn’t stop laughing and he couldn’t stop crying. He was so upset and grossed out and we just kept on laughing.

We don’t raise no sissies in the Menke family, no sir.

Road Warriors 2009 Day Two

September 1, 2009

Colorado Camping Trip 2009, Day 2:

It’s amazing how easily we slide into our “camping roles” each year. This morning Charlie and Dave woke up early and started the fire. Charlie busied himself making hot chocolate and his “Signature Toast” which he roasts over the fire with a roasting stick, then slathers on butter and lawry’s seasoned salt. This, he serves up warm and toasty to Morgan, her majesty, in bed! I can’t be too critical though, as I think she must get it from me: I was directly across from her, snuggled into my own fleece-lined sleeping bag, propped up reading Shantaram, sipping my coffee that was made by Dave and served by Charlie! No wonder I love camping so much! It’s the best!

We lounged around and headed back to the Dunes around 10 am… or was it 9? I don’t know because I’m not sure which clocks have been set back and which haven’t. The Dunes are so amazing. Pictures don’t do them justice. Or at least MY pictures don’t do them justice. I remember being enthralled with them the first time we visited in 2004, but since that time, I’ve been to the Grand Canyon. And I’ve gotta say, I’m more impressed with the Sand Dunes than I was with the Grand Canyon. I can’t help it. I just am. Plus, they are just so fun! Maybe it’s because I had seen so many pictures of the Grand Canyon and knew what to expect and I really had no idea whatsoever that those sand dunes even existed. We saw a lot of Middle Eastern people there and I was thinking that maybe the dunes were less impressive for them…

Anyway, we came upon a family that we spoke with the night before in the sandstorm. Their kids and ours started talking and playing, even though the kids were much younger. The best one-liners from the trip came from Danté and Eric. Danté — “nearly 10” — educated Morgan and Charlie about the drought in Texas while Eric, who seemed quite taken with Morgan, kept calling her “Merlin” and making spitballs out of sand. Pretty gross, actually.

The dunes were getting pretty toasty on our tootsies by 11:30, so we headed back to camp, packed up and pointed the car west to Pagosa Springs, stopping at Wolf Creek for a brief lunch (yes, yes, out of the cooler again). In Pagosa, Jennie got her much-sought-after outdoor solar shower and Dave bought some fly-fishing flies from a guy who was over 7 feet tall. I actually grabbed my iphone to take a sneaky photo, but then I thought better of it. I figured people like me must make him feel like a freak all the time. Thinking back on it now, I just wish I had taken the stupid picture.

Anyway. We headed off to our land in Piñon Hills Ranch, which I hadn’t seen since we bought it about 4 years ago. I was excited, but the kids could not have cared less. As we drove over the creek and into the gates (everything is gated down there and it makes me wonder what they are all afraid of) Morgan was watching Rent for the 5th or 6th time and Charlie was pissing and moaning about her constant singing, facial expressions and hand movements. (Thinking back on this now, I wish I had counted how many times I yelled “JUST STOP LOOKING AT HER AND IGNORE HER.” Because that was day two out of 8 days and she never stopped watching Rent or singing.)

I do still love the land. I wasn’t sure if I would, but I do. What I find amazing is that after all this time there are still only 2 houses out of 42 lots. So you really can’t get a feel for what it will be like someday and whether it will still feel as remote and private. What sets it apart from any other place I’ve ever been right now, aside from great views, is the crazy quiet. Aside from the noise being made by us, better known as the Loud Family, there was nothing: no dogs, no birds, no planes, no cars, no water. Nothing. Charlie promptly stated, “I like this place because you can talk loud.” Need I even mention that he said it loudly?

We set-up in the “cul de sac.” (Sagebrush prevents any aggressive and inventive placement of the pop-up like normal). Then, we went to the river to fish while morgan washed her hair. I, however, waited until we got back to soap up and used my new solar shower. It was AWESOME!

We made green curry with chicken (my personal camping favorite), then hung around our first fire. Morgan saw what she thought was a firefly, but turned out to be what looked like a baby tarantula (its eyes blinked?). The spider totally freaked Charlie out, but we calmed him down enough to have a few s’mores. Then to bed! The day was hot – 90-ish. the night was cool – 45-ish.