Hi Mike,
Patrick & Georgia just returned from a trip to Quebec, and provide this JAlbum album. It was their first visit to Canada together, and they spent time in Montreal & Quebec City, which they preferred by far. In fact this album has no pictures of Montreal! How come?There are also some pictures of Gilsum, but I haven’t looked at them yet.–rakkity
Michael,
For her 23rd birthday, Beth & I promised Katie a horseback ride in the Boulder area. So when Katie dropped into Denver from her latest Americorps projects, we brought her back up to Boulder and made a call to our friendly cowboy Fred. Fred has given up mountain climbing to be a part-time cowboy. He owns one horse and stables it with 3 others owned by a would-be horseman named Matt. Matt would like to be a cowboy himself, but he needs instruction, and Fred has taught him everything he knows about horses.
Anyway, Fred wangled a free ride on 2 of Matt’s horses. Katie got to ride Scooter, a big, spritely, brown gelding, and I got to ride old Gypsy, a white, spotted, gentle mare. After loading all the saddles on and tacking us all up, Fred hopped aboard his own horse, Skywalker, a young blue-eyed black and white gelding. The sun was shining bright when we started, and I was glad to have my straw cowboy hat, but I had to hold it on tight in the occasional gusts of wind we were riding into.
Our ride went west towards the foothills in the South Boulder Creek drainage. We crossed through several unused ranches, opening and closing gates as we went. The buffalo grass was high and golden, concealing the purple gayfeather and yellow gumweed flowers. Rainclouds blew towards us from the hills ahead and we pulled out our rain jackets for the coming showers. While a gusty wind blew big rain drops into our faces, we rode our horses towards the forested hills. The shower stopped after a few minutes, bur somehow I lost my hat in a wind gust. Fred kicked Skywalker into a trot. This was something I wasn’t familiar with, but Katie kicked Scooter into a trot too, and without my urging, Gypsy started trotting. It was all I could do but hang onto the pommel and try to move with my horse. I’d never been in a trot before.
Skywalker wanted to canter, and Fred urged him on. Katie kicked Scooter into a canter, and naturally, Gypsy started into a canter. Unprepared for that gait, I nearly fell off. Trotting is OK, but cantering is not, so I pulled hard on her reins and got Gypsy back into a trot. Meanwhile, about half a mile ahead, the two real riders waited patiently for me at the edge of the woods.
We rode up into the ponderosas, which smelled sweetly aromatic after the shower. The trail led upwards towards the Devils Thumb, which projects from the skyline above the minor flatirons. I had been hiking with Chuck last week in that area and speculated whether Katie’s horse ride might soon be in that area. My second sight was right. I pointed out the various formations to Katie. Besides Devil’s thumb, there was the Maiden and the Matron, and the whimsical Fatiron.
Fred took us off trail, and it was all I could do to keep Gypsy from walking under low hanging branches. At one point she got her rein wrapped around a limb, and I pretty near lost control. But she patiently waited for me to lean over her head and untangle the rein. Meanwhile, Fred was leading us into some steep rocks. I wondered if our horses could handle the terrain, but these horses were familiar with rough country. We had no problems until Fred decided to go straight up the hill. He hopped off his saddle, and led Skywalker on foot, so we had to do the same. We reached the crest of a hill, and led the horses down into a more level area.
Out of the forest we rode, into the gayfeathery buffalo grass again. We all trotted cross-country down to the trails below, and while Fred & Katie cantered their horses, I restrained Gypsy with difficulty. Our horses really loved the “lope” (western hoss lingo for “canter”), but I didn’t. By the time we got back to the corral, our horses were sweating, and hungry. I was feeling muscles I’ve never felt before, agreed with Katie that it was a terrific ride. It was not only a great present for her, but one for me, too.
–rakkity
Mike,
It’s been quite a while since I climbed a “real” mountain (i.e. one over 13,000 ft high) and I wanted to know if I could still do it in my late middle age. So I looked up at the Indian Peaks from 75th St, and thought about which one I hadn’t climbed. Navajo! It’s the one that looks like an inverted ice cream cone.
That pointy one right in the middle.
A call to hard-man Chuck found me a partner. When “legs” Joe heard about the hike, he wanted into it too. That was fine with both of us. Chuck recommended a 5:30 am start from Boulder. I blinked, but didn’t gulp. He said, ‘We’ve got to get on top of the mountain before noon to avoid the thunderstorms.” Thinking back the last few weeks, I recalled the plentitude of afternoon thunderstorms right here in Boulder, and agreed whole-heartedly. I had no desire to be dodging thunderbolts up above timberline.
Two mornings later at 5:30 am, Chuck and I were waiting in his living room for Joe. At about 5:45, about the time we expected him to show up (according to the Joe clock), Joe rolled up in his car outside. He headed straight for Chuck’s basement, where he stores his climbing stuff. At 6:05 we were headed down the street in Joe’s car, when he remarked casually, “We have to make one little stop.” Chuck & I looked at each other anxiously. Joe was famous for being late, but this was a new one. “I forget if I left my garage door open or not. I’ve got to check.” Our eyes rolled, but we agreed on this further delay. Finally we got out of town, having confirmed that Joe had actually shut his garage door, and we were on our way to the Indian Peaks Wilderness.
The sun was just rising over the plains behind us as we started hiking the Isabel Lake trail from Brainard Lake. Striding easily along the forest trail, we passed Long Lake, then Isabel Lake, and then a small tarn surrounded by alpine meadows. The forest had now become scattered clumps oftwisted and beaten firs bordering fields of tall grass and willows, all watered by a gurgling creek.An obvious cirque, drained by waterfalls, stood a couple hundred feet above us. We followed the vestiges of an old trail to Isabel Glacier. The path twisted circuitously upwards around the waterfalls through marmot and pika country into the boulder field of the cirque. The trees and the last wildflowers fell further below us.
At about 10:00, 5 miles above Brainard Lake, we entered the arctic zone where only lichens and spiders wreak out a precarious existence on the rocks. And above us there hung Navajo Peak, a tough customer, it seemed to me.
Sometime in the 1950s a small passenger airplane tried to cross the continental divide just south ofNavajo Peak. Due to clouds and a faulty altimeter, they hit the gully just a few 10s of feet below the pass. Pieces of the plane are scattered over the gully from the bottom of the cirque right up to near the 13,000 foot level, less than a hundred feet from safe passage. This is the least pleasant part of the climb. Not only are all these aluminum reminders of death and destruction everywhere you look, but the gully boulders are unstable and often roll beneath your feet. You are at risk of tripping, or jamming your foot in a hole, or having a big rock roll over your feet, and anyone below you is likely to get hit by a rolling, bounding rock. So we wore our climbing/bicycle helmets and climbed carefully.
By the time we reached the top of the gully at Navajo Pass it was 11:15, and the final ascent lay just above us. There were wonderful views of the Continental Divide to the north and the south. Arapahoe Mountain, its dwindling glacier, and a few of its once major snowfields were now visible to the south. Longs Peak lay off to the north, bordered by its lesser satellites in Rocky Mountain National Park. The western mountains of Colorado lay specked with light and shadows cast by the overlying, fast-changing clouds. It was a worthy spot to rest.
Joe was tuckered out from fighting the gully, and decided to stay there at the pass and wait for us, if Chuck & I wanted to continue. He’s no “peak-bagger”, but I am, and so is Chuck. I stared up at the final 500 feet of climbing. It looked like a trail led up to the rim rock, below the top, but how do we get around that? Chuck was ready to go on. He had climbed this peak 5 or 6 times by 3 or 4 different routes, and he knew the way. He told Joe it would take about half an hour to reach the top (he was right), and probably less to descend to Joe. The anvil clouds were gathering in the west, and in the very far distance to the north, there were signs of lightning. So without delay we headed up.
There were no loose rocks on the ascent, and the trail was much easier than Airplane Gully. Still, both Chuck and I had to breathe deeply, and take in as much of the thin air as we could. The high rim rock that wraps around the summit grew closer as we climbed, and Chuck pointed out a huge crack in the rim. “That’s a chimney route that’s fun to climb.” At my questioning look, he said, “But we’re going to go an easier way.” Sure enough, we found a passage traversing the rim to the left and winding up onto a narrow ridge. Chuck tossed down his trekking pole, “We won’t need these now.” He climbed up onto a house-sized boulder, and led us on an airy, but simple, rock climb that led to the summit. The drop-offs to the north were insane. That was the glacier route, climbable only with crampons and ice-axes in late spring, when the gullies were choked with snow. A few more yards of scambling on lichen-covered boulders, and we were at the obvious compact summit.
Down in all directions!
Descending Airplane Gully took about twice as long as the ascent. But when we reached the flat boulder field below it, we breathed a sigh of relief. Only horizontal boulder-hopping now.
A short way onward, Chuck noticed a ptarmigan. It was initially invisible, but then it twitched and became visible. As we walked toward it, the bird walked slowly away. He never flew, but watched us carefully, confident in his camoflage. He was pretty sure we couldn’t see him. So there was, indeed, more life than spiders and licens in those boulders!
Slowly, slowly, slowly, we walked back into the meadows below the cirque, into the wildflower zone, past the lakes, through the woods to the car, to civilization and beer!
–rakkity
8/27/07
I have one more (short) thing to send you this week– “Cantering through the gayfeathers with Katie”
Mike,
Every week or so, I discover another mural in Boulder–usually on the outside of a wall, sometimes on the inside of a restaurant or a store. There’s a few more murals that I haven’t managed to photograph, but there are enough now on my camera disk to make an entertaining collection.
Enjoy the free-spirited artists of Boulder!
–rakkity
(P.S. An album of Glacier National Park’s high country is in the works, and will come to the blog before Aug 30, my “drop-dead” date.)
Mike,
Every week or so, I discover another mural in Boulder–usually on the outside of a wall, sometimes on the inside of a restaurant or a store. There’s a few more murals that I haven’t managed to photograph, but there are enough now on my camera disk to make an entertaining collection.
Enjoy the free-spirited artists of Boulder!
–rakkity
(P.S. An album of Glacier National Park’s high country is in the works, and will come to the blog before Aug 30, my “drop-dead” date.)
Hi Mike,
My old buddy Joe, a long-standing member of the Fogies Five (and an even longer-standing member of the “B.A.D.” club when we were CU grad students), and I went on a hike up to the alpine meadows of the Crater Lakes cirque, 30 miles west of Boulder. Along with us came Wayne, Joe’s postdoc. Wayne is from the Phoenix/Tucson inferno, and hasn’t had much of a chance to cruise the high country. The hike up to Crater Lakes exceeded all of our expectations. After 3 miles of steep hiking through the woods, we reached timberline, and found one of Colorado’s finest alpine meadows. We lolled around among the flowers, and would still be up there (I’m writing after dark), were it not that threatening thunderclouds and lightning drove us out and down the trail. We hiked on home wards through a refreshing hailstorm and found Boulder wrapped in clouds, teeming with rain. Wayne carried back a rapidly melting chunk of a snowfield from the cirque, so he can show it (re-frozen) to his Arizona family, many of whom have never (!) seen snow.
Another great day in the Rockies!
Ed
Hi Mike,
Beth & I are taking advantage of my current 2-week respite from doctors to visit the SF Bay area for 3 days. The pano is shot from the Space Science Lab atop Grizzly Peak on the UCB campus (where I’m working). I’m trying to get a good sunset picture from this great vantage point. Yesterday the weather was mostly cloudy, but today is as clear as a typical Colorado day, cerulean skies and all.
On Saturday, Beth and I will drive down the coast to Simi Valley, where we’ll visit my dad for a week. We’ll try to send more pics, perhaps of nice vineyards full of Pinot Noir grapes.
rakkity
Mike,
I keep thinking I’ve seen most everything Boulder has to offer, but almost every time Beth & I go for a walk or a drive thru Boulder, I see something new. This time I was walking by the City Hall, and ventured over to their new plaza, which just opened up in May. The city has placed 6 beautiful mosaics into the flagstone plaza. I’ve attached some pictures. You’ll see some strange city names there–all 6 of the “sister” cities who have contributed to Boulder in various ways. I’ve never been to any of them. (Should I be packing my bags?)
Enjoy.
rakkity
Hi Mike,
Today, an old friend, Steve Nerney, who moved out here to Boulder from the East late last year, came with me up to Rocky Mtn Nat’l Park for a hike. For our jaunt, I had selected Granite Gorge, a spectacular canyon ending in a Yosemite-like cirque at 10,200′, just below Long’s Peak. Ten years ago, I had hiked in the same area to do a climb of the monolith called Spearhead up there, and remembered the Gorge and the high cliffs very well. Steve has not yet acclimated completely to Boulder’s altitude, so he has to stop and catch his breath a lot on hikes. But he is utterly tireless, and he carries on a stimulating conversation where ever we go. During the hike he kept remarking on the outstanding beauty of the scenery, and I couldn’t but agree!
Here are some pics.
The last picture, taken at the YMCA next to the park, is where Steve’s wife is attending a meeting, and their son, Eddie, is climbing, rafting, and hiking to his heart’s content.
Ed/rakkity
Mike,
Yesterday evening we drove back from a trip to the Pike’s Peak area, and the sunset was so spectacular I nearly drove over the median strip several times trying to get a glimpse of it. If my loving wife hadn’t prevented me, i would have shot pictures out of the window while I was driving (like someone we all know and love, who will remain nameless). Anyway I was so energized by that sunset, I tried to get a good photo of a less spectacular post-sunset scene tonight from our front lawn. The clouds were not nearly so accommodating, but the crescent moon and Venus (below the moon at about 4 o’clock) hung out nicely for us over a maroon cloud deck.
Now that I know this camera can do this kind of work, I’ll try some more in future evenings.
Ed/rakkity
Details:
Dimensions: 1813 x 1406 (after cropping)
Device make: Nikon
Device model: E4200
Color space; RGB
Focal length: 23.4
Exposure time: 1
Support: convenient tree
…to a nearby blog:
-o- Carved in Stone — In Colorado, stone is as cheap as dirt (maybe cheaper). Hence many signs are literally carved in stone.
-o- Boulder Murals — There aren’t any Grohes in Boulder, but the local artistes and graffites have created some nice outdoor art.
-o- Funny Business — It’s my impression that Boulder has an unusually large percentage of curiously named businesses.
–rakkity
Mike,
Before we came to Boulder last January, I was thinking that some aspects of the town would be much the same as when I lived here in the ’60s: political activism, marches, inflammatory posters, streaker parades, and above all, wonderfully diverse bumper stickers plastered on every car. Well, that’s only partially true. There are a diverse bunch of bumper stickers here, but I have seen bumper stickers on only about 1 car in 30. That’s much less than in Bowie, where it seemed like every other car has a Bush/Cheney or a Kerry/Edwards sticker. However, Bowie sported few really interesting/funny/scandalous ones.
So, since January, 2007, I’ve been peering at every bumper sticker that came within range. For 5 months, I looked in vain for a Bush/Cheney bumper sticker. To my happy surprise, None! Nada! Zip! So I tentatively concluded that, since Colorado is nominally a Red state (see footnote), with lots of conservative ranchers, the Bushies must avoid Boulder as a source of plague-bearing liberalism. Either that, or the city has posted automatic laser beams at every entrance to town, and the labels and/or cars with Bush/Cheney on them get vaporized as they drive in.
After viewing the rear ends of over 1000 cars, I started transcribing my scribbled notes into electronic media. Then, just before CU’s graduation day I happened to see a pickup truck near the campus, spotting a Bush/Cheney bumper sticker below its MONTANA plate. Somehow that truck managed to evade the laser beams. I don’t include on the list because I’m counting only Colorado cars.
Footnote:
Colorado has a Democratic governor, 4 of its 7 congressmen are Democrats, and the senators are split between the parties. Seems like it should be, nominally, a blue state.
–rakkity