Riding the Roof of America

March is slowly making way for April and the ever-present threat of  my most DREADED season, Spring, is growing larger.  To me, Spring resembles a period of murderous decay followed by the inevitable rebirth.  The snow will melt, the ground will become a horrid swampy mess, and the temperature will battle between hot and cold.  You can’t ski/snowboard and it’s too damned cold to road bike.  The lakes are no longer frozen, but they are too bloody cold to swim in (as is the ocean.)  It is a short-lived purgatory; it’s not winter nor is it summer.  Most people see Spring as green, I view it as grey.

That Would be yours truly outside one of Breck's numerous "WARMING" huts... use your imagination.

The daily temperatures are gradually rising.  Zero degree air blasted by roaring mountain winds is a sensation I have almost forgotten about.  The chilly twenties to thirties is usually masked by the very intense, high altitude sun, leaving most summit county residents very warm with little to desire in regards to weather.  Perfection.  A “polar bear” (the nickname given to me throughout my life due to my intense love for the cold) such as myself is in bliss.

Those silly tans I’ve seen in magazines and heard about from western mountain travelers are sneaking their ways onto people’s faces… including mine!  Yes, below the bridge of my nose, dipped slightly down to the lowest portion of my eye sockets, is a healthy tan.  Above this DMZ is pale white.  A perfect yin and yang; black and white.  Two contrasting skin pigmentation that leave the Skier/Rider’s tattoo: the infamous goggle tan.  I would imagine that upon my arrival back to New England people will be fascinated by this curious pattern on my face, I can’t wait to see some reactions.

I have removed myself from all fun activities for the past 4 days.   As luck would have it, I was fortunate enough to catch a pretty severe cold.  Working in a bar, “pounding 5’s” with all my buddies and happy drunks, accepting kisses from all the intoxicated ladies on their way in and out, and standing outside in the cold for hours upon end is a marvelous way to transfer a cold virus.  It is unavoidable.  The good news is my hibernation has led to a speedy recovery and I am planning on being back on the hill tomorrow.   A neti pot (look it up, seriously its wonderful), perpetual sleep, and a load of vitamins and minerals were my best allies over the past few days.

It looks like my goal of 100 days on the hill is slipping away.  Good.  I’ve realized that my experience in Summit County was destined to be more than just spending time on the hill.  My job at Cecilia’s has become almost as fundamental, important, and fun to me as skiing/snowboarding.  Its provided a portal to some cool friends, pretty girls, and some great times during and after work.  The ubiquitous couple of beers and work has blessed my weekend evenings and really diversified my experience in the Rockies.  If life could go on as it is now; I would surely never leave this place and would die a happy man.

The Road to Billy's Bowl. The board you see leaning on the sign has since been broken. I broke my core the whole width of the board.

Highest Chairlift in the world happens to call Breckenridge it's home.

Again, I find myself apologizing for neglecting this blog.  I have actually been fairly busy the past couple of week with riding, working, and visitors.

Last week a couple of friends from TKE ventured up to the high country.  On their third day we decided to get adventurous and hike the Continental Divide (Loveland Pass) for some serious backcountry riding.  Loveland Pass is strictly backcountry terrain; this is not your resort with chair lifts, ski patrol, and joeys.  Loveland Pass can be accessed by car and long hikes.  Why venture into the backcountry you ask?  To elevate your typical run beyond groomers or moguled out cruisers.  Earning your turns is far more gratifying than taking a chair up to tracked out slopes.  Below are a couple pictures from our adventure.  I would elaborate more but I must run to the slopes for a few afternoon turns.  I passed up 7 inches of freshies this morning because I’m feeling extremely under the weather… a few runs wont hurt.

My apologies for the lack of posts… I will not attempt to justify my casual attitude towards this blog as I do not have a good excuse.  Life still goes on in Summit County: “The Child” (el nino) continues to plague Breckenridge and the I-70 resorts, allowing us 50% of the average snowfall we would otherwise  have at this point in the season.  I watched a special segment on the Weather Channel the other day that made me feel somewhat relieved, though not completely cured of my anger towards El Nino.  Apparently, ski resorts throughout the country are suffering from lack of snow. I hate to be a prime example of Edmund Dante’s human condition but, Good!  I’m not the only one who is missing out!  The Wasatch, Tahoe Resorts, Mt. Hood, and even the mighty Wyoming behemoth Jackson Hole are all experiencing the same symptoms of drought.  The only area on the map that seems to be getting by without much change in average snowfall is in southern Colorado, the San Juan Mountain Range.  Wolf Creek, Silverton, and Purgatory are only slightly behind their average snow.

I remain optimistic.  It seems as though every Colorado news station is predicting massive snow dumps  in the spring.  I normally don’t put too much stock in local weather, but for the next couple of months I’m willing to make an exception.

Our house on County road 503 was packed with visitors several weeks ago.  Chris had two friends from Suffield visit and DJ was up for a few days.  I felt terrible that the three guests flew 2000 some-odd miles to ski on hardpack and ice.  After one, very sketchy, day at Vail we all decided that it would be wisest to seek out the best possible snow.  Our research pointed us towards Wolf Creek (this was where I got to play in the 5 feet of freshies a month or so beforehand.)  DJ took the reigns and booked lodgings, a rental car (VW Mini Van) and scheduled our departure and ski times.  We were to leave Sunday morning at 5:00 am sharp and drive 3.5 hours south to Wolf Creek for first chair.  For me, this meant that I return home from work at around 3:30… fall asleep at about 4:00 only to wake up an hour later…sweet.  My curse (more like bane of my existence) is that I cannot easily nap once I am awake;  the 3 hour drive was sleepless for me.  After one of the most scenic drives of my life, we pulled into the Wolf Creek parking lot.  As Murphey’s Law would have it, I passed out upon our arrival to the slopes…missing day 1.  Day two proved to be pretty fun, we hung out in the trees where the snow was relatively untouched and soft.

I reiterate my cliche opening tag line, “Life goes on in the Rockies”.  My job at Cecilia’s remains one of the highlights of my stay in Breckenridge.  It has been a portal to some whacked times that I cannot discuss on this blog and it has also been a medium for meeting some very cool characters. As discussed in previous posts, the pay is fair and is a much needed supplementation to my piggy bank.  The employee discount on drinks also helps keep the wallet fat, though I should probably take advantage of it more than I have been.

I have recently attempted to ski again; I am happy to report that it has not bothered my knee and has been an absolute blast. Needless to say, my skiing skills are almost non-existent, but this is to be expected after having not skied in upwards of nine or so years.  I’ll get my groove back in a couple weeks (I hope.)

I have decided to begin my practice of photography with the camera I was given for Christmas.  It is an SLR and demands more discipline than I can possibly devote to it at this point in my life.  That said, I happen to have two roommates with SLR experience that appear to be willing to help me in my mastery of this complicated device; this will be a much needed jump-start.  If all goes well, you should be seeing some fair, at best, photographs of Breckenridge and the rest of my environment.

In other developments, I successfully made a batch of Beef Bourguingon.  It was delicious!  I was inspired to attempt this delicious concoction by Anthony Bourdain’s “Kitchen Confidential,” a book that I would recommend to anyone.

That’s it, I’ve got nothing else.  I will do my best to maintain this blog a little better, and if all goes well, there should be some decent pictures in the next couple of days/weeks.

I’m off to work, Cheers.

My last post revealed my frustration with nature’s weather patterns and its reluctance to drop snow at my home-base Breckenridge Colorado.  After making ourselves crazy with anticipation for the storm that the mainstream weatherman promised us and ultimately experiencing one of the largest let downs in my adult life, we decided take action and chase the storm that tried so persistently to avoid Breck.  4 hours and 140 miles to the south lies our snowy oasis that is Wolf Creek.

Waking up just after 4:30 AM Chris and I packed the A4 and began the loosely planed journey that would remind us why we headed out to the Rockies in the first place.   The sun’s battle with the darkness of night ended victoriously, as it usually does,  and the faintest rays of light started to highlight the crests of the perpetual mountain ranges we drove by once we overtook Hoosier Pass.   The light revealed the San Isabel National Forest, a series of minuscule towns on the mountain flats, and the ever present Colorado Rockies that loomed on either side of us as we drove south down Rt. 285.    As the hours passed, my anticipation and eagerness to throw myself into feet upon feet of powder snow grew relentlessly.  The feeling was reminiscent of a time when I was still Santa Clause’s #1 fan and the, seemingly, endless wait for Christmas Eve to give way to Christmas Day.   It would be a blasphemy to say that the excitement of a young boy waiting for Santa’s presents was greater than my eagerness for the snow at Wolf Creek, but it was damn close.

Eventually, we passed through the town of South Fork, which is essentially the gateway to Wolf Creek, and started to head up the meandering road that would bring us to our glory.  It was amazing to see the snow levels increase on the side of the road as we continued up the 17 mile mountain pass.  The snow started out at around a foot in South Fork, covering the reflectors on the side of the road about half way.  A few miles up the pass I noticed the reflectors were completely covered, then I noticed the snow was piled up higher than the (very few) guard rails. A mile or two further and the snow was half way up the speed limit signs, and then as we were within a mile of Wolf Creek the 50 MPH speed limit signs were nearly hidden by snow, barely revealing the horribly generous speed for this particularly wild mountain pass.

Let’s fast forward to our walk from the A4 to the chairlift.  The snow was so deep it was actually a struggle to walk to the lift.  A post holing snowboard boot was a common occurrence on the short walk, making life much more difficult than necessary, the treasures of the struggle would be worth it…

My excitement nearly peaked as we hopped on our first chair ride up.  There were hardly any tracks in the 55 fresh inches of weightless powder snow.  Perfect.

I learned that being a on a snowboard is not as advantageous as being on skis in seriously deep snow.  Seeing as Wolf Creek had a lot of “hike to” terrain, the typical snowboard skate method of traveling on flats was useless.  A skier is able to traverse in powder with much more ease than one with a snowboard.  I was also enlightened to the fact that a large snowboarder such as myself must avoid fresh tracks on mountain flats.    Wolf Creek is a unique place.  The top is very steep and the bottom is the essence of FLAT.  I would start out fine on the steeps, fresh tracks galore, but when I reached the second half of the mountain I found myself in trouble and, ultimately, stuck up to my chest in powder… trust me I’m not complaining.  On the first day I found myself stuck in bottomless powder 6 or 7 times, each silly crisis eating up about 10 or 15 minutes of time.  It took me until my second day to realize that I needed to stick to other people’s tracks on the flats, otherwise I was in for a serious, energy siphoning, trouble.

Other than getting stuck on the flats, the trip was “epic.”  The sensation of flying down a steep grade, dipping and weaving through trees, with fresh powder spraying in your face to the point where your can barely even see was one of the most significant thrills of my life.  I will never forget that phenomenon, and hopefully I will get to experience something similar again.

The day was glorious and by night I was completely exhausted.  We called it in around 2:30 or 3:00 as it was frigid outside and I was spent from digging myself out of powder.  We grabbed a bite at a local restaurant, where we met the mayor of South Fork and proceeded to entertain him while we waited for our check.  South Fork is a sparse town but the people in it were magnificent and worth mentioning.  I will also mention that I tried my first “Country Fried Steak”  that night, which was delicious, undoubtedly good for the soul but horrible for the body.

The second day was more glorious than our first, we skied until about 2:45 or 3:00 PM and called it quits.  Needless to say, when riding in waist deep snow for 6 hours, you will be more sapped for energy than ever before in your life and your legs will scream with a triumphant soreness that will have you smiling regardless of the pain.

Our drive back breezed by and we were back in Breckenridge before we knew it.  I finally got a taste of some serious snow and am waiting with anticipation for a lot more to come.

Cheers, more posts to follow.

The past few days marked the third and, irritatingly, largest storm that has passed us to the South.  El Nino has nudged the Jet Stream a couple hundred miles to the South of Breckenridge and with a metaphorical aura of humor has neglected us of the snow we long for so greatly.  I realize it is still the early season and my anger might be predeveloped but come on!  Am I creating a star wars-esq force field that inevitably deflects all snow from the 50 mile radius bubble I call my home?  Are the snow gods entertaining themselves this winter with a perversely directed reality TV show starring yours truly as the protagonist?  Either way, science or fantasy, this puts me into a mental state that I did not expect to encounter on my, slowly turning lackadaisical, adventure.  I understand that “good things come to those who wait” but when you observe the sole goal you have sought out to achieve/experience  slowly become jeopardized, the ball quickly changes courts and you are left idle, hoping for a drastic change of events.  This is what I call Bullshit. A Bullshit natural phenomenon that is beginning to plague my experience out west.

150 miles south of Breckenridge Colorado a small “mom and pop” ski resort sits nestled in the San Juan portion of the Colorado Rockies.  Ignorant to the rest of the commercial skiing world, Wolf Creek Resort, sits back and admires its stealthy existence, which almost all vacationers are ignorant to, and receives a constant bombardment of storms that repeatedly rape its slopes with feet and feet of snow.  After torturing myself with snow reports from Wolf Creek it is easy to start to question my decision to establish myself in Breckenridge.  Who knew that 150 miles could be the difference of feet and feet of snow.  Needless to say the decision has been made to watch Wolf Creek’s weather and pounce on any opportunities for epic snow falls.

Right now, I’m waiting for a call from my manager from Cecilias,  the call will determine my fate for the next few days. I might be obligated to work Cecilias happy hour from 4-9 (potentially until 2:00 am) or I could soon be on my way to the wintry bliss I have dreamed about since my re-introduction to downhill sports… I will be certain of my short term destiny within the next hour or two.

For one of the few times in my life I can say, frankly, that Fate is out of my hands.

Home Made Prime Rib Roast

I must admit that I didn’t fabricate the ingenious title for this post: it is the title for a ski flick from Poor Boys Productions (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SgTrcMqQM0U).  I will, absolutely, make the claim that the title does pertain to my current lifestyle.  My sole obligation is my bouncing gig at Cecilias which is more like a social event than an actual job.  I truly think this current state my life is the nearest I will ever be to a perpetual weekend.

My snowboarding progresses.  Before I continue, I will remind the audience that we are still in the month of November.  Today marked my fourteenth day on the slopes; which exceeds what most people can say for their entire season.  Many of the locals stew in their own glee when they haughtily profess that they are way ahead of their normal schedule with ten days on the mountain.  I hate people who play the “one up” game so I happily keep my notable number secret and pretend to be impressed with their slain days.  Fourteen days for a poor boy from CT… not too shabby I’d say.  It looks like my goal of 100+ days is attainable.

Breckenridge continues to open more terrain.  Today they opened peak 9 with three trails.  This was a magical feat because the crowds melted and were conservatively spread around the mountain reducing slope traffic and life lines.  Even now, Breckenridge is only around 8% open and the conditions are predominantly man-made.  This is far from a complaint.  The snow is as soft as any fantastic day of New England skiing and the runs are far more exciting.  I know this is redundant but my point is to convey how different this experience is.

My main riding buddy has been my roommate Chris.  Chris is a great skier who has been enjoying the fresh, untouched snow in the tree’s that lay off several trails we have been frequenting.  Eventually, I grew envious from stories of knee deep freshies and thrilling lines; I began to yearn for these experiences myself.  Heeding the advice of a coworker, I decided to brandish my “clunker” Nitro snowboard and head into the trees myself.  Chris was certainly correct.  Fresh snow, challenging lines, and a secluded winter wonderland was what I experienced.   I also had the pleasure  of riding on fresh snow with absolutely no base.  Without a base, the natural features of the mountain are a very real part of this particular riding experience.  My board became the victim of assault from rocks, roots, and stumps.  After three long runs in the trees my board had enough; evidence of this came from the three NASTY core shots that the bottom of my board received.  Needless to say my fun in the trees has been postponed until the storms start dumping and the risk to my equipment is null.

I’m seriously considering purchasing a used snowmobile.  I know that the owning one of these machines goes against everything that I set out to do in Colorado; HOWEVER, the purpose of this purchase would be for one reason, and a damned good one at that.  A snowmobile can provide quick, effortless access to back country terrain.  Sledding up back country bowls is the most (human) energy efficient way to get a great day of untouched riding in; it will open up doors that would otherwise be bolted closed.  A prep talk from a friend back in CT runs through my head before I make every decision out here, “Do everyone favors, don’t say no to anything, live like everyday is your last, open doors everyday…” etc.  What would you do if you were in my shoes?

Tomorrow will mark the second Thanksgiving I have had without my family.  Though it won’t be the same without Mom, Dad, and Rob… (miss ya’ll) there will be a feast to devour and good company to enjoy.   Posts to follow.

Happy Turkey Day!

I worked my first shift at Cecilia’s last night.  Cecilia’s is both a local hot spot as well as a renowned bar that tourists flock to for late night cocktails and dancing.   Apparently, this is the only “club” type bar in town and is one of the main nightlife attractions.  I was at the door checking ID’s for the night.  The bar was crowded with locals who weren’t overly thrilled about getting carded by the new bouncer; but for the most part everyone warmed up, understood, and was happy to introduce themselves to the rookie on board.  It is my understanding that things pick up when the tourists come in to town.

It seemed as though most every drunk patron of Cecilia’s wanted to explain the relationship between the locals and the tourists to me.  It is a symbiotic, love-hate, relationship that people appear to be truly adamant about.    This is what I understand so far (in a nutshell): the locals rely on the tourists to come in and spend their hard earned money in town to sustain the thriving micro economy and thus create a pool of jobs that the locals occupy; the locals need the tourists.  On the other hand, the tourists need the locals to fill the basic jobs that make Breckenridge so great – operate their fancy hotels, ski lifts, grooming machines, etc.  There is some resentment from the locals towards the tourists.  The locals are proud of their town and work together to keep it afloat, feeling protective of their turf as a result.  The tourists, who are here for a few days or a week, rape and pillage the local goods with no remorse and have no consideration of the efforts taken to maintain and preserve “their” town.  Of course these are all generalizations, but for the most part I feel as though I understand the subtle conflict.

There are a couple types of local.  There is the “New” local such as myself.  We come out for 5 or 6 month lengths of time  and at the end of our stay we surrender our local status and abruptly return to reality at the end of our stay.  The New local has a chance of solidifying the local status and becoming one of the following two categories of local.   First is the Bro/Brahs – “chiller bro’s.”  The Chiller Bro is a type of local that goes with the flow.  You can spot them in town by the extremely bright, clashing colors of their snowgear or by their ridiculously long hair and facial hair.  Their language is more relaxed and words seem to flow out of their mouths in a lazy, slightly stoned type of annunciation. The “Chiller Bro” seems is a character like one would expect to see straight out of a cartoon.  They work basic jobs and have aspirations of snowboarding for the entirety of their life.  Finally, there is your everyday, high county, average Joe, local.  This person has felt the complexities outside of mountain life and has established a prioritized list of life goals… skiing and snowboarding would fall somewhere in the middle.

Overall it was a pretty good experience.  Meeting people was definitely a plus; I’m going to have to figure out whether or not the hours are too overbearing.  Getting home at 4:00 am to wake up at 7:00 am for fresh powder might not be entirely convenient, nor will working at night when I have guests visiting.   The pay is definitely on par and it seems like a position where I will meet loads of people … I’ll have to weight the pro’s and con’s.  I was informed that I will have to work New Years eve, for a hefty sum of cash, but there is something about working on New Years eve that kills me.  I’m dead after last night and will be working late again tonight: debating whether or not to ride at this point.  We are supposed to get a storm later today which is affecting my scheduling at this point in time.  I might declare it a “lazy day” and save myself for tomorrow when there is some freshness on the trails.

Cheers!

P.S. Opening day at Breckenridge was awesome.  They only had a couple trails open but the conditions were solid and it was beautiful outside.   Chris and I took a quick 5 or 6 runs and called it quits.

The house has been filled.  The past several days have been devoted to setting up our house and little more.  We were able to make our way to Keystone for a day of riding this past weekend.  The conditions were as good as any solid day of New England skiing.  I still get a kick out of these western powder skiing folk.  When there isn’t a couple inches of fresh snow they don’t know what to do with themselves.  Proof of this was the four downed skiers we saw on one single run once the trails started to get a little skied off; these people just cant handle the slightest bit of ice.

I have been in a pickle with a owner of one of the “best” bars in town for a gig as a bouncer.  I’m hoping to lock down that job today if only our endless game of phone tag would cease.   I figure this job would be perfect for my social life and my snowboarding schedule – I figure I wont be missing any powder days working at night!

I now wish I brought my road bike with me.  This week has been 55+ and the skies have been clear as I’ve ever seen; perfect riding weather.  A lot of people road/mountain bike out here as there are intricate trail systems for both types of bicycles.

Breckenridge opens tomorrow and we are supposed to get snow on Friday and Saturday, more detailed posts to follow.

Cheers.

These pics come from Loveland pass, just beyond A-Basin.  I will be sure to try this terrain out.  To The left is a large, more mellow slope that looks awesome.

Is this sign perfect or what?  You see these every so often on the drive up to Loveland pass in addition to your standard “Avalanche Warning” signs.

(listen to this song….. classy rap -  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9SJahxYBmlk)

Monday marked day “numero uno” of my riding season.  I headed to Arapaho Basin; they managed to open two trails a little over a week ago.  Needless to say, my expectations were not high as my only means of comparison to October snow sliding was the one, sparsely covered, trail Killington managed to open around this time a couple years back.  I was surprised to see that the parking lot was nearly full when I arrived.  MONDAY morning?  Really? Two Trails? October?  Isn’t Monday the day where America reluctantly returns to their cubes or offices?  I couldn’t believe how many people were trying to take advantage of early season days.

The bitterly cold, cloudy morning blossomed into an afternoon much like any late April day of spring skiing. Due to the elevation the sun is much more powerful in the mountains: 38 degrees and sunny feels like 50+ degrees.   The lift lines were long, but that was to be expected once I saw how crowded the parking lot was.   The long lines didn’t phase me; I was getting my first day on October 26th… not too bad.

I guess people out here really take for granted how good their snow is.  I arrived before Alan, therefor I had the luxury of getting a few warm up runs in.  It was a pleasure chatting with the girl who accompanied me on my first chair ride up.  As an ice breaker I explained that this was my first run of the season and asked her how the conditions were.  I was very disappointed when she explained that the slopes were icy and hard.  SHIT!  I don’t care how good anyone thinks they are at skiing or snowboarding: after a spring, summer, and fall of not riding down a mountain the first couple of turns always connect a little more awkwardly than one would like to admit.  After I got my snowboarding “mojo” back I began to come to the realization that there wasn’t any ice.  I was cruising down snow that was very familiar to me.  This was the snow that covered many New England slopes after a light snowfall and some decent grooming.  What is “icy” to a Westerner is groomed hard pack to a Easterner.

I met up with Alan and we continued to ride.  Most people would scoff at a day of riding two trails; it was plenty for a first day.  The altitude continues to dominate me.  Now, I’m not in the best shape, but after a spring/summer of cycling you’d think that it would be in my physical ability to avail myself to the force of gravity to  slide down a mountain.  FALSE: I was sucking wind after every run.  As a result of this I think I might start jogging to get my body used to the lower concentration of oxygen in the air.  ***I would suggest doing some serious cardiovascular activity to anyone who is thinking about visiting me!***

While waiting in the lift line I noticed that I was standing next to professional skier John Spriggs.  I understand that it will be a somewhat common occurrence to see professional skiers and snowboarders on the slopes.  Apparently Shaun White (hate the man) has a house in Breckenridge so seeing him is almost guaranteed.

Upon throwing as many lines in the two open trails as we could, Alan and I grabbed the first real meal I have had since I made the move out to Breck.  A burger and a couple beers from Breckenridge Brewery were especially delicious after eating Clif Bars and Ramen noodles for 5 days.

I move into my house on Friday.  I have been enjoying my palatial suite at the hotel; however, I’m excited to have a spot that I can officially call home for the coming months.  Its going to snow for the remainder of the week.  I cant wait.

Cheers.

After three long days on the road I finally arrived in Breckenridge, CO.  30+ hours of driving is easy to plan, think about, and talk about.  Executing the drive leaves little to be desired.  Driving while blasting my latest music discoveries is one of my favorite pastimes; after this journey I don’t know if i will ever look forward to doing so again.   Even my favorite tunes eventually started to simply provide a vexatious background noise that I paid little attention to, regardless of how hard I tried to enjoy.

I have to admit, it was an eye opening  experience to see the heart of America.  Endless corn fields, rolling hills, farm machines the size of small houses, and meager farm towns that remind me of the sticks straight out of the Texas Chainsaw Massacre.  The truck stops were amazing too.  Glorious establishments for truckers to revive the mind and body, fill up their massive gas tanks, and to prove to me that truckers are truly a breed of their own (I’ll leave it at that.)

I realized the significance of my move for the first time while I was checking out of my second hotel in Lincoln, Nebraska.  I revealed the fact that I was from Connecticut while chatting about the snowy weather with the hotel clerk.  The brief conversation ultimately focused on my journey to the Rockies and my reasons for my move.  After automatically firing off the explanation I had rehearsed so many times before, the clerk mentioned how hard it must be to simply leave everything that is normal and important to oneself; how she would never be able to follow through with such a thing, never-mind do it alone.  Only 700 miles away from Breck at this point, I started to agree with her and question my move.

The drive through the Rockies was absolutely breathtaking and at times somewhat frightening.   The roads alternated between ear-popping climbs to break burning descents that revealed some of the most beautiful mountain scenery I have ever seen.    This route undulates in this fashion indefinitely.  I got the impression that  the Rocky Mountain portion of  I-70 would not be especially fun to drive once the snow starts to fall in the Rockies; a good indicator that this assumption was true were the “Road Closed” Gates that threatened to shut off all traffic into the Mountains on a snowy day.

I will be moving into a house that has “Ski/Snowboard” and bus access to town and the gondola to the slopes.  I love the fact that I will be able to strap on my board, ride down through powder and trees, grab a few beers and hike back up to my house.  The house is the quintessential mountain home: wood stove, cedar floors and roof beams, and a wooded mountain setting.  The landlord has been extremely helpful and flexible; he will be providing us with living and dining room furniture and a couple beds; leaving us to find one bed, kitchen wares, and some sort of entertainment center or TV stand… I don’t anticipate this being a problem as there are plenty of listings on Craigslist and the Summit Daily paper for cheap furniture.  Move in occurs this coming Friday.

I’ve been spending my time casually looking for a job, trying to orchestrate things with my other roommates, acquainting  myself with the downtown area, and adapting to this bloody altitude.  Its my understanding that a low lander like myself will be short winded, experience some lethargy, headaches, fatigue, and an overall feeling of “blahhh” for several days to weeks: this is the cost of surfing down some of the sickest powder snow in the USA.

I’m happy to announce that my first day of shredding will be on Monday, October the 26th with Mr. Alan Sadonowicz.  We will be making our way to A-Basin to enjoy the few trails that they have open… a post will follow.

Cheers.

Love this quote I read in a forum: “Sometimes the Universe gives you a sign, sometimes it gives you a nudge as well if it thinks you need it. I have learnt to listen to these hints, as you ignore them at your own peril. What in the short term could be construed as a disaster often turned out to be a blessing in the greater picture. It is best to be calm in these situations. Sit and think things over without emotion. Work out what needs to be done. Change is often painful, as we do not like the unknown, even if the known is not a good place to be.”