tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1135134038683974942024-03-19T13:57:33.250-07:00Quest for beautyvince vogelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09409914685847755131noreply@blogger.comBlogger43125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-113513403868397494.post-78247384382778912622014-02-04T15:40:00.003-08:002014-02-18T18:37:37.390-08:00Winter Trip 2014Feb 1st The start of Pam and my ski trip from Denver and then all the way to Canada and back. We are using the Monarch Ski pass that is good at 31 other areas and the Quality Inn Choice Privilege card for our stays, where we can on both accounts.<br />
<br />
When I set this trip up in November I didn't realize that Feb.1st was on a Saturday or that the Bronco's were going to go to the Super Bowl. If you live in Denver you are born with the idea that any travel on the weekends towards the mountains is almost suicidal. The long lines of traffic moving towards everyone's favorite ski area is a mind blower. Then if you add the Super Bowl being televised the next day was a double trouble for any weekend warrior. The parking lot traffic almost started in front of our house, on Feb 1st. We left at 6:20 am and the sight on I-70 was a slow moving caterpiller working its' way up over the mountains. Our living hell ended when most of the Olympic hopefuls headed towards Summit County and we turned our truck towards Winter Park in Grand County over Berthoud Pass.<br />
<br />
We could tell that this was going to be a good ski day, because as we drove over Berthoud Pass, we couldn't see highway signs along the road because they were covered with the fluffy white stuff. As we approached Mary Jane ski area, the twisted sister of Winter Park, a long line of cars was pouring towards their parking lot. Maybe I heard a little voice telling me to pass up this parking lot and drive towards the main ski area, or it was the other voice in the truck, Pam. The vehicles were like pieces on a chess board moving in front of us. One piece drove straight, then the second one would go turn, everyone had their own plan on getting to the slopes the fastest. <br />
<br />
Our parking lot was a sea of humanity covered with expensive clothes and carrying even more costly equipment. In the next row of cars was a small girl that was at the end of her rope, either because of the traffic or the cold weather. Her screaming could be heard all over the mountain slopes as it bounced off the helmets of skiers. Everyone except her parents was paying attention to her melt down, so the idea of jumping on the hood of the car parked next to them seemed logical. The sound of the car alarm was loud enough to drown out this girl's wails, which was followed by a sound of applause coming from fellow skiers like myself.<br />
<br />
Pam and I haven't been to the Winter Park ski area since skiing was invented and it has come way up in the world. Where the old parking lot used to be is now a high end shopping street, which is certain to lighten the load in our wallets. There is also a people mover in the shape of fifty gallon drums connected to a long moving cable that feeds you towards these shops that skiers can't live without. Pam and I stood on a platform as our drum came closer, then at the right time half of the drum opened and we stumbled into our mover. We had a grand view of the surrounding area as we moved towards the ticket windows. Getting out was a tad tricky with skis and poles and the slippery floor of the drum.<br />
<br />
With our Monarch Pass we had one free day of sking and that went without a hitch. As we stepped into our skies we were back to the realization that we weren't the only people wanting to ski today. The lift line was hundreds of people deep, but the chair held four so the line moved fast.<br />
<br />
With lots of new snow, the conditions were ideal, except for the extremely low temperature for some people,that I will not name! <br />
<br />
At 2:00pm, the perfect time for old people to stop sking, we headed to Kremmling, Colo our first night of rest. With a population of 500 tops, we didn't have to worry about traffic anymore, maybe a moose or two, that's it.<br />
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++<br />
<br />
Feb 2nd Pam and I woke to 20 below in Kremmling, it was so cold my tongue stuck to the metal plate in my head!! As we drove out of the Colorado River drainage a heavy frozen fog hung over the valley, we thought we had been cast into a remake of Dr. Zhivago. Today we are headed to Steamboat Springs but first we have to go over the high pass named Rabbit Ear's. The rock formation on the pass resembling a jack rabbit's ear seemed to get closer as we drove north, and I swear he was wearing ear muffs. <br />
<br />
A snowmobiler that was staying at the Super 8 in Kremmling told me there was over 5 feet of new snow on the pass, and as we got closer he was spot on. Luck was with us and fellow snow lovers, for the highway dept. had dug tunnels in the snow that led to a small parking area. This snow was piled up to three times the height of the truck. Pam wanted to snowshoe in a flat area, not on any mountain's sides and not near any avalanches. This is why women live longer, than us men. On the south side of the pass was a large open meadow with enough snow to cover New York City three feet deep.it looked like hundreds of weekend warriors on powerful snowmobiles had made tracks all over this area. You could tell these people where very independent, as no one stayed on the same path. If we would have had a hot air balloon and looked down on the site it would have looked like a bowl of limp spaghetti had been poured onto a large white table. We were going to use these snow tracks to our advantage, since one false step off the packed snow and we would have been up to our arm pits in the white stuff.<br />
<br />
A slight breeze was coming out of the south and with the temps at close to zero, it put a nice color to our cheeks, Compared to Kremmling's 20 below zero this was like a balmy. Our plan was to snowshoe over to the crop of pine trees about 1/4 mile away. The skies where completely blue, not a cloud to be seen. Only occasionally we would hear a distant snowmobiler coming towards us, appear out of the trees then race across the open field, like enemy under fire as they ducked back into the trees. After an hour of pushing along through the snow we reached the trees and turned around, now with the wind at our backs. Since we were wearing three layers of clothes and taking quite a bit of work to walk with the snowshoes, I could finally start to feel several body parts.<br />
<br />
As we decended into the Yampa Valley which would be our home for a few days, the snow was still piled high along the highway. Steamboat Springs could be seen in the distance with the ski slope off to our right. We checked into the Steamboat Hotel and unloaded all of our gear and found out the most important information that a snowshoer needs, the best place to eat. Trying to keep the truck under the speed limit, we found our lunch spot, the Creekside. I don't need any stinking creek, I want food. The place had a few people waiting for a table, but we were seated lickety split. The fellow sitting at the next table was from Florida, West Palm Beach, and he needed a sounding board to listen to his stories. He told us about the period in his life that changed his outlook on everything. He met a preacher while he was riding his bike and later went to his church and found Jesus. From that minute on until now everything looks differnt he reported, even the look of leaves on the trees. I thought of the Forest Gump movie, when Lt. Dan asked Forest if he had found Jesus? "I didn't know he was missing!" says Forest.<br />
<br />
After eating enough food to fill two stomachs, we drove to the world famous Steamboat Hot Springs. Not the hippy dippy Srawberry Field hot springs, located in the mountains, no these are right down town. The Strawberry Hot Springs are bathing suits optional after dark, which everybody and their dog tells you with a wink and nod. We soaked up to our eyeballs in the 103 degree hot springs. The talk at the pool wasn't the snow depth, or nudity, it was the Super Bowl. Denver verses Seattle Seahawks. <br />
<br />
We drove back to the motel with the thought of watching a close game with our home town of Denver giving a good show. Someone forgot to tell the Bronco's the game had started because we got our butt kicked, slaughtered, pushed into the astro turf-48 to 8. After all the hype generated in Denver about the Super Bowl, I don't want to hear about football for a whole year. Even the shape of a watermelon at the grocery store is going to send me into orbit.<br />
///////////////////////////////////////<br />
Feb 3rd Woke to a potential snow storm and from our vantage point, gazing up at the ski slope it looked like we were in for a whole day of a winter wonderland. The town has a free bus and a bus stop was right out front of our hotel. The bus delivered us right up to the ski slope within minutes of pickup. After a short walk we were able to show our Monarch Pass and get a free pass for Steamboat Mtn. This mountain has a gondola that is completely enclosed, which made for a nice warm ride up the mountain. After sking to another lift we found ourselves right smack dab on top of Storm Mountain. What a great name and so fitting, since it was storming. The depth perception was down to five feet in front of us, due to the lack of sunlight. Even the crazy snowboarders were cutting down the hill at a snails pace. After fighting these conditions for several hours we wised up and moved down the mountain, where the condtions had improved greatly. We did four runs on this long slope which had all kinds of different challenges.<br />
<br />
By 2:00 pm our legs said uncle and we headed down towards the base and our bus ride home. We got on the wrong bus but we sure got to soak up all the sights of downtown Steamboat Springs. A woman on the bus who had just moved to the area kept telling us that the bus would finally reach our motel. Five miles out of town the bus driver came back and told us, " You're on the wrong bus!" He dropped us off at another bus station and thirty minutes later, after going back to where we had started, we saw our motel. <br />
<br />
Pam wanted to spread the wealth around so we drove ourselves back downtown and did some serious shopping, Pam did anyway.<br />
*****************************************<br />
Feb 4th Time to drive to Wyoming, the cowboy state by way of going back over Rabbit Ear's Pass, for the last time on this trip. Snow was also our companion as we made it up over the pass and into the Medicine Bow Mountain range. The higher we climbed in the mountains the higher the snow was packed on the side of the road. This was good, since we wanted to ski this area the next day.<br />
<br />
Laramie, Wyoming could be seen in the distance as we decended out of the mountains. The winds were blowing snow squalls across the road in front of us, but it didn't seem to upset the hundreds of antelope that were racing across the plains. We drove downtown and I noticed a sign for a musuem plus a mansion that might be interesting to visit. Since it was winter, the place was closed but we managed to find a woman that agreed to show us around in a few hours. We headed onto the main street to check out the shops and to find a good place to eat. With out bellies full of Thai food it was back to the mansion. The Ivinson mansion was full of period pieces and chuck full of interesting tidbits about the family who had lived there. Mr. Ivinson was the ultimate baby crib robber, his wife was 13 years old when he at 23 years old married her. He must have known what he was doing because they stayed married for 61 years. The mansion has three floors with 12 foot ceilings and measures 3,600 square feet. Every room had something interesting to look at and our tour guide explained every little detail.<br />
##########################################<br />
Feb 5:th Woke up to 20 below zero temps with snow falling, "Lets go sking!" yelled Pam or was that me. Anyway we headed back up the mountains towards Snowy Range ski area, another free area on our Monarch Pass. The snow got deeper the farther we drove into the mountains. At the ski area it was a balmy 15 below zero but no wind, there is a God! We made a few runs and the sun occasionally made an appearance. After a small lunch it had warmed to 8 degrees and it wasn't bad compared to 20 below. I hit the slopes for another hour while Pam had her skis resting in the rack.<br />
<br />
We made it back to Laramie with enough time to visit a musuem of Anthropology on the University of Wyoming campus. What a great and very informative display the university had set up.<br />
////////////////////////////////////////////<br />
Feb 6th We left Laramie with a snow storm in our rear view mirror and temps 20 below zero. The interstate I-80 would lead us to Salt Lake City after traveling thru many small snow storms. By 2:30 pm we drove into the parking lot of our next home at Econo Lodge just west of downtown.<br />
<br />
I had been to this major town just last year and kind of new my way around. The south and north vistor center could be a command central, for info about the Mormon religion. The temple in the center of the square with its' huge stone towers would be impossible not to notice. The only way to get inside the temple is a permission slip from your Mormon priest, if you belong to the church. Knowing this, the church has a model of the temple in the visitor center. Probably the number one question about the temple is the story with the baptism room that is held up by 12 golden oxen. The Mormon"s have an answer for the number one question for all true believers. If I am baptised and going to heaven, what happens to the people before baptism was invented? Now with the Mormon religion you can have your friend that bit the dust or your family member that is wearing wings in the sky baptised after the fact. While a church member is totally being dunked in the baptismal water the priest can read off a list of dead folks that are in limbo because they weren't baptised in the Mormon church. From that moment on if your dead friend excepted the baptism they go directly to heaven. This was all explained in the south visitor center. In the north center it is set up to explain all about how Joseph Smith found the golden tablets and then wrote the Mormon bible. With this bible he was able to convert millions to the Mormon religion.<br />
<br />
We needed a way to end our educational learnng of religion so we went to an ice cream shop and pigged out.<br />
<br />
Thumb nail sketch of the Morman religion from what we have learned in our 2 hour visit.<br />
1) Joseph Smith had a lot of questions about religion as a young man, so he went out in the woods to pray. God and Jesus came to him and told him they would give him the right answers at the right time.<br />
2) Joseph Smith, 4 years later had a visit from the angel Moroni. He let Joseph know that he had buried some golden tablets right near his home. On these tablets Moroni had written the gospel given to him by his father Mormon. <br />
3) The tablets told of the story of America a long time ago, way before Walmart. Two Isralie tribes following a compass given to them by God came to America. Jesus visited them after his day on the cross and told them how to behave and be good. One tribe didn't follow the rules and killed every cotton picking member of the other tribe except Mormon and Moroni. <br />
4) As you might imagine God wasn't real happy with the remaining tribe but how would God know which tribe was what, so God turned them red. The only way these Indians could get back into God's good side, was to help the Mormons.<br />
5) Joseph Smith translated the golden tablets into the Mormon bible.<br />
I imagine it's like any religion there are folks looking for answers in life's confusing twists and turns.<br />
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>><br />
Feb 7th Woke to balmy temps in the 30's but a big storm in the mountains, above Salt Lake City is predicted. The road that led up to the Alta ski area got steeper and snowier as we climbed into the mountains. When we pulled into the Alta ski area parking lot a cold wind was blowing up from the west. A very steep mountain was attached to a ski lift that shadowed the ticket window. Since we had our mighty Monarch Pass we only had to pay half price for our ticket. Pam and I studied the area map with a eye for maybe a tad bit easier ski slope than the one that was in front of us.<br />
<br />
We found a long lift that led us along the valley floor which was made up of long ropes, being pulled by a cable. As the ropes went by we grabbed onto them and within ten minutes we were delivered to a slope that we could handle. When I bought our tickets instead of having a tag hung onto our jacket, the ticket master gave us a ticket to be scanded before the gates would be open to the lifts. Each time Pam and I would fumble with the ticket and in fact one time Pam's blew away and we had to ski after it. Then a kind attendant told us to keep it in our pocket or glove and the scaner would pick it up. <br />
<br />
The snow was over 12 inches deep with new powder and what a treat to ski it, I can't begin to explain how good the sking was. The only down side to our pleasure was the higher we got on the mountain the higher the winds. My mother is part Cherokee Indian but I think she is Eskimo because I love the cold weather, the biting temperatures are my friend. Pam's mom must have been from the French Riveria because her tolerances are a tad bit lower, or normal.<br />
<br />
By lunch time Pam had enough of the wind and cold so I continued on for another hour. Then I stopped to see how Pam was doing at the restaurant and took off my mittens and forgot about my ski ticket. Frosty the snow man must have found my lost ticket because I sure didn't. That was the end of my sking which was just as well since my legs were ready for a break. Wrong wording!<br />
<br />
After driving back to Salt Lake we decided to take in a movie and "The Monument Men" was a great choice, what a movie, primo baby cakes.<br />
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^<br />
Feb 8th For a change we didn't wake up in the middle of a snow storm, no it's raining. Today we are heading to Boise, Idaho. The drive was very direct on I- 85 and with a rain storm as our traveling companion my truck is squeaky clean. We got into Boise about 2:00 pm and after a quick meal at a restaurant next to Sleep Inn we headed to downtown Boise. Pam and I are suckers for all musuems and Boise has a great one. Lots of historical objects about, you guessed it, Idaho. A whole big section was on the Native Americans that had lived in Idaho and how they influenced Lewis and Clark exploration thru Idaho. <br />
<br />
Tomorrow we head north to Mccall, Idaho and rent snowmobiles that will take us 20 miles to Burgdorf Hot springs. Pam and I will rent a cabin for 2 days with plenty of back country snowshoeing and the hot springs to soak our aching bones for as long as we don't turn into Sunkist raisens.<br />
)))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))<br />
Feb 9-10-11 Pam and I drove north out of Boise Idaho during a rain storm, which I was hoping wouldn't follow us to Mccall. Every mile that we put behind us the snow got deeper and whiter. By the time we spied the sign reading Cheap Thrills Snowmobile rentals the snow was knee deep. There is a husband and wife team running the snowmobile rental business. The wife runs the office and her job was to make sure our snowmobile outfits fit well and where warm enough. The husband meet us at the trailhead and made sure we had enough knowledge of the machine to not run it into a tree. We also rented a sled that was attached to the back of our snowmobile and we had no problem filling it up with food, sleeping bags and warm clothes.<br />
<br />
We left the parking lot about 10:30 am with the thought of the soothing hot springs on our minds. Pam had a nice soft seat behind me as we cruised 30 mph towards our cabin for 2 days. A old forest service road that is closed to vehicle traffic during the winter would be our path. The snow along the road was waist deep and the surrounding hillsides where covered with tall pine trees. Our rental agents told us not the take our machines off the road and we passed plenty of hot dog snowmobilers that had their machines buried up to the windshield. <br />
<br />
After 22 miles of cruising along our winter wonderland we could see the Burgdorf Hot springs in the distance. The where a number of wooden buildings that where decorated with several feet of snow. We followed a sign to the check-in lodge and was meet by Caroline a lovely lady and with her husband, they manage the hot springs. A cabin named Ann Marie would be our home for 2 days. We jumped back on our mighty machine and drove right up to the cute cabin. After unloading our gear we started a fire in the wood burning stove. Then with our swim suits and towels in a small back pack it was back on the machines for a return to the lodge and the hot springs.<br />
<br />
The main pool was between 95 and 100 degrees and was the size of a 1/2 of a basket ball court. Two smaller pools feed this large pool and they where both 115 degrees and they where called the lobster pots, wonder why? A group of five fella from Seattle had been in the pool for a hour before we arrived and they sure knew how to handle the booze. A 1/2 gallon apple cider container held more then just apple cider. The recipe called for apple cider, apple juice, cinnamon sticks, sugar and 120 proof Everclear. This concoction was called Apple Pie and Pam said it tasted just like it. When they finished that and a case of beer it was time for a metal flask that was the size of a NY city phone book(not kidding!) that was filled with apple flavored whiskey. They had bought the flask at a restaurant in town called Lardo's, it should have been wino's. Another couple people joined us with more booze and what a good time we all had just talking and making fun of the Bronco's since they where from Seattle. Everything outside the hot springs was covered with several feet of snow, including the logs surrounding the pool. One of the these 1/2 pickled Seattle fellas kept trying to walk across the snow covered log, along side the pool. Each time he would get half way and loose his balance and fall into the pool, I thought of a you-tube moments. But there wasn't any broken bones! When everybodies hands had turned into wrinkled prunes from the hot springs we all got out.<br />
<br />
Pam and I went back to our cabin and had a candle lite dinner, since there isn't any electricity. By 8:00pm with the only light we had was from the wood burning stove we called it a night. Then every 2 hours I would get up and feed our mighty stove with more wood.<br />
%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%<br />
Feb 10th Pam's birthday yipeee. We started with a breakfast of oatmeal and off to our very own hot springs for a hour soak, life is tough. Our host showed up and we ordered a special birthday dinner, wieners and burgers, to be served tonight. She told us some history of the place, the Indians used the hot springs for centuries until the trappers, miners and then cattleman showed up, with their dirty back sides. A Dr. from McCall now owns it and he got it from his family after they bought it in the 1900's. There was a mine in Warren and a road ran right by the hot springs and mule skinners and the like use to stop in the 1800's from hauling ore from there.<br />
<br />
We found out about a mountain that is covered with quartz and it's called Crystal Mountain. Pam and I decided to snowshoe up the trail that lead to the top of this mountain. The trail had been beaten down by a snowmobile, so it wasn't to hard to follow. On top of the mountain we didn't find any quartz but we had a great view of the valley and surrounding mountains.<br />
<br />
After lunch we fired up our snowmobile and decided to head to the ghost town of Warren. It was 16 miles away and the road cut thru a couple small mountain passes. Within a hour we where zooming through downtown Warren. I noticed a small ranger station with a few signs explaining local history so I drove off trail. Then after reading the signs we got back on the machine and the snowmobile didn't move. The snow as like granulated sugar and we couldn't get any traction. I thought why not just grab this machine and spin it around, except the machine was heavy as a car. We tried to back the machine up without any success. Then in the distance a man appeared carrying a shovel. I didn't know if he was a ghost and I didn't care at this point. With 20 minutes of shoveling and three of us turning the machine around we got our frozen butt out of the snow bank.<br />
<br />
The soak in the springs before dinner, completely nicked out our snowmobile problems. The burger and chip dinner was followed by a brownie with a candle for pam's bday. We found out our hosts, had gone to school in Boulder Colorado and had meet in Jamestown. For the last 10 years they have maned a fire lookout station with limited access to see each other during the summer. Caroline only got 2 days off the whole summer.<br />
????????????????????????????????????????????????<br />
Feb 11th Woke to colder temps and lite snow fall. We loaded up our gear on the sled and headed back to the real world, without hot springs. We turned in our gear and headed to Spokane. Pam's mom is needing some tender loving care so Pam headed down to Lousiana from the Spokane airport. <br />
<br />
I drove onto Castlegar BC after answering a thousand questions at the border crossing. Do you have guns, pepper spray, tasers, A Bombs? The mountain pass just before Castlegar was snowy and icy but that didn't keep a tractor trailer from passing me going 80. Finally I could see the Quality Inn and it made everything A OK.<br />
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^<br />
Feb 12th I woke last night and looked outside to a true Canadian sight, snow coming down, covering my truck. Well this will work out perfect because I have down hill ski on my mind. I had bought a discount ski pass for Red Mountain and that's where this old boy was headed. With all the new snow the area couldn't have been better. All the slopes had something for everyone's ablity. My first run was down a slope cover with boulders that where covered with snow on a 45 degree slope. I was working very hard to make my way through this puzzle and sweating so hard I fogged up my googles. I had to go back to the truck and take off a layer of clothes. By 2:30 my legs told me enough already, so home I headed. It had been foggy driving up this morning but now it was clear and quite beautiful.<br />
*************************************<br />
Feb 13th Today I would head back up into the mountains and snowshoe. I asked around Castlegar and no one seemed to have any knowledge of hiking trails. The grocer at Safeway told me to go to the Canadian Tire store, they may have some maps, I think he was trying to get rid of me. I did find a nice trail called 7 Summits and found it to be very good for snowshoeing. I actually found 2 A frame cabins that I used to sit and look at the distant mountains. After eating my lunch at Sunset A frame I headed back down the hill with a windy snowstorm on my back side. <br />
<br />
Just thought of a couple funny things I didn't add to the blog. Yesterday when I was skiing I was riding with a student from South America. He reminded me of Pedro from Napoleon Dynamite movie, he even looked like him. He told me of the last time he snowboarded Red Mountain. " I was taking this sweet jump, when I caught a edge and woke up in the hospital!" Pedro said. He had dislocated his elbow and had just got out of a sling. Next funny is at Alta ski area. Pam didn't like looks of the steep ski runs and was very nervous just thinking about them. As we stood looking up at the slope and I was trying to convince her everything would be alright, the ski patrol set off a series of explosions to break up avalanches. The sound bounced off the valley and rattled my filings in my teeth. The third explosion last was the last straw as I looked at the Alta ski map to find a kinder slope.<br />
******************************************<br />
Feb 14th It's my job today to drive to Canmore Alberta. The weather is a mixed bag of really snowy conditions to white out conditions. My aim is to make it over the pass from Radium Hot Springs before they close the road for avalanche control. Two years ago when I was on the same road, I drove up to the hot springs and a road workers was standing in the middle of the road holding a big coal shovel. "The pass is closed!" he yelled. "I bet the department of roads couldn't find a bigger guy to stand guard!" I yelled. He laughed and agreed. The hot springs was just over the hill from Big John, so I told him to honk his truck horn when the road opened, which he did. This time there was no road blocks but the road was something out of the North Pole, especially when I saw a road sign telling us to watch out for reindeer. I wouldn't have been surprised to see old Saint Nick, it was that kind of day. Snow was piled up along the road 8 feet deep and all the pine trees where covered form top to bottom. I sure was glad to get to the valley floor, because the snow didn't follow me down there.<br />
<br />
The rocky mountains along this valley are beyond all description, the best camera will not capture the breath taking beauty also. These mountains are a lot steeper then the ones we have in Colorado. As I drove in the Econolodge lot, my home for 3 days, my neck hurt from looking at the scenery all around. After checking in I took a drive downtown Canmore and tried to get some good pictures. Standing in the doorway of the Safeway grocery store looking up at the mountains was unbelievable.<br />
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&<br />
Feb 15th My goal today is to ski Lake Lousa ski area, but I also noticed this area has what is known as Family weekend, to kind of go along with our Presidents day holiday. My hotel clerk told me that the ski area will have between 5-7 thousand skiers. Knowing this I got up real early and was down at the breakfast room 30 minutes before it opened. The night clerk opened it ahead of schedule just for me. I drove in the dark to the ski area and I was the first one in the huge parking lot. Got all my gear and walked up to the lodge and was able to buy my ski pass, from a vending machine. The ski lifts don't usually open until 9:00 am so I was surprised when the attendant let me on at 8:30. I went to a back bowl and skied 4 runs before a lot other skiers showed up. By 2:00 pm there where between 5-7 thousand skiers so I headed to my truck. The parking lot was full and the road leading to the parking lot was covered for a solid 1/2 mile both sides of the road.<br />
<br />
My room had a whirlpool, which I used to sooth my aching legs.<br />
)))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))<br />
Feb 16th Pam called this morning her mother had passed during the night at he ripe old age of 93. So I started the long drive from Canada to Denver at 1,200 miles, than another 1,200 miles to Lousiana.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
vince vogelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09409914685847755131noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-113513403868397494.post-78263251842102876922013-10-21T11:40:00.000-07:002014-02-07T13:57:45.008-08:00Wind River Range Wy. Wind River Range is located a couple hours north of Rock Springs Wy. or ten hours north of Denver my home town. It's a huge area that covers 2.25 million acres and 2,900 lakes dot this landscape. Even though it's located not that far from populated cities not many people know about the area or visit it. 700 miles of hiking trail cross over 3 wilderness areas that offer many views and experiences. I have to put myself the same boat as the uninformed hikers when it comes to Wind River. I had purchased the two map set many years ago and only recently bothered to look at them. There are so many lakes shown on the maps that a fisherman slash hiker doesn't know where to start in planning his trip.<br />
<br />
Like most hikers I was interested in a trail that would make a circle and expose myself to as many lakes as possible in a 4 day period. I left Denver on July 17th with my objective of camping in the Boulder lake campgrounds on the southwest entrance to Wind River. After a ten hour drive I was ready to settle down and look at some mountains instead of 18 wheeler trucks along I 80, so the campground was a welcome sight. A couple from Salt Lake City occupied the site next to me so I walked over to find out some information about the area, mostly about the fishing. The couple had walked up towards Lake Ethel yesterday but got caught in sudden thunder storm, so they high tailed back to their tent, which they discovered leaked like a sieve. The fella had been to the lake in the past and told me that it was a fishing mecca for local fisherman,so don't expect many fish, since it was the first lake hikers came to.<br />
<br />
This Mormon couple had meet when the woman's car broke down and he was able to fix it along side the road many years and children ago. He was brought up Mormon but didn't practice as much as his wife until they got married in the church and the rest is history. He worked at the lumber yard but was a pretty fair hand at fixing cars and had collected a few through the years. Their one son was ready to go on his missionary duty to Fort Lauderdale Florida so this fella had to sell one of his cars to pay for the trip. If I had to go on a mission the east coast of Florida this place wouldn't be bad I thought to myself. I would try and convert girls to Mormanism as I applied sun tan lotion to them. The longer we talked the clouds got darker and with rain starting to come down each one of us headed for shelter.<br />
<br />
The next morning the skies had cleared and I started on the Boulder Creek trail towards Lake Ethel. The trail followed the creek for the whole distance to the lake. A past forest fire really did a number on the landscape.This area is a major example of what a glacier can do when it's got a granite mountain in the way. The left side of the trail was solid rock that was decorated with large round granite boulder. The glaciers had tumbled these rocks ahead of them and had turned them into giant marbles. Within 3 hours the trail took a hard left turn and began to climb and climb. Then in the distance I could see my lake. A large waterfall was dumping water from the lake above. I expected a few back packers since there where a several trucks in the parking lot at the trail head. I almost ran to a great level spot over looking the lake. I set up camp and was down in the water fishing before I knew it. I found out that a fire ban had been lifted so maybe I could have trout for lunch.<br />
<br />
The weather couldn't have been milder and I was up to my knees in the lake as I walked the shore line casting out my lure. On the second cast I hooked a nice Cut Throat Trout. With the help of a willow branch I was able to secure my lunch at shore line. I must have caught 6 more before heading back to my camp for lunch of trout. Since I forgot to bring anything to cook Mr. fish in I made a rack out of green willow branches. What a grand view looking over my own personal waterfall as I devoured my vitals.<br />
<br />
After a short siesta I was right back in the waters casting and catching with some success. Then came the thought of my pathways for tomorrow which would lead me to my next campsite and more fish. the trail according to my map was on the south end of the lake and I must of walked right by this morning. walking back towards the end of the lake I noticed a bridge leading over the stream that was coming from my lake. the stream might not been hard to cross if it was on the same plan as the path but the power of the water had carved a deep recession out of the rock. The water was about 20 feet below the bottom of the bridge and was moving so fast it was making a whistling noise.<br />
<br />
The next morning I was up and on the trail by 7:00 am. This trail didn't follow any creek it just seem to have a mind of it's own. the trail twisted and turned as it made it's way among giant rock formations. The past forest fire also made the rocky mountain look like the back of a giant porcupine, with blackened trees as quills. The trail was also climbing which gave me a chance to look back down the Boulder Creek drainage which I had hiked yesterday.<br />
<br />
Within a few hours I came to a lone horse standing inside a homemade corral of small pine logs. I walked all around looking for this critters owner but he must have been out counting chipmunks. Then I came to beautiful lake that almost made me want to stop and break out the fishing pole. Like the past lakes this lake was set down in a large bowl of rock that must have been carved out from the many glaciers a zillion years ago.<br />
<br />
A lunch time I came to North Fork Lake which must have been 4 times bigger then Ethel lake. The views, let me try and describe the views. For one thing the lake backs up to the Continental Divide on it's eastern side. Large mountains capped with snow made for a mirror image on the still water surface, these are the mountains that divide the America's in half. It's a image that has to be experienced and with the changing light the images changes every hour. On the north and south side of the lake the fires had done their damage here.<br />
<br />
I set up my camp and wanted to see if i could repeat my luck with trout for lunch. This lake din't let me down and I was eating trout by 1:00 pm, with all views as my back drop. As I ate my food I heard a group of Boy Scouts come marching down the trail from Lake Victor. I noticed when I had signed into the trail head log that is where this group was headed. I thought they where going to stop and camp but by the time I got my fish cooked and eaten they had vanished.<br />
<br />
I walked back down to the lake and decided to walked the shallow shore line casting and wading as I worked my way along the lake. Within a hour 2 fellow fisherman came walking along the trail and I stopped to chat. Their packs looked like they where ready for base camp on Mt Everest. Wide, tall and heavy is what it looked like to me and they where in a mean mood, with carrying all that gear in the blazing sun can do. Every positive point I brought about the Wind River was answered with a negative point. "The trails are sure marked well!" said. "We have been lost several times!" they yelled. "The fishing has been rewarding at Ethel Lake!" I explained. "We have had a few bites, but not a s good as expected!" said the cranky back packer. I was sure glad they where walking down the path carrying all the bad vibes with them.<br />
<br />
Within a few hours and countless caught a released I made it to a rocky point, which I couldn't go any farther without swimming. From my past experiences trying to catch the trout rocky points sometimes have all the fish hanging out. This point also had a rocky ledge about 20 feet out in the lake where the water depth dropped off very fast. Now it's time for a fish story with in a few hours time I caught and released 130 trout. What can be the down side of this story, I knew it would spoil me for any other fishing if I didn't have a fish on my line at every cast.<br />
<br />
I walked back to my camp with a sore arm from casting and catching but what a day. Then at dinner time I heard some horses walking by and saw three rider with their cowboy hats bobbing above the trees. After eating I walked back down the trail and I could hear them and their horses. I walked out to the tree line and watched as these cowboys where trying to shoot the trout out of the water with their guns. Maybe somebody got kicked in the head one times too many!<br />
<br />
The next morning I headed on the trail towards Lake Christina, which I had heard was steep and rough. I found the trail to be fairly easy and was making great time. I walked a number of small lakes but kept on walking towards my next campsite. I started to descend into the lake basin when I noticed a Bull Moose standing at the end of the lake knee deep in water. It turned into a starring contest between Mr. Moose and myself, until the moose took off running. I stopped along the lank shore and tried fishing but only caught few small fish, I knew the last lake bounty would spoil me. After spending a hour casting I decided to walk back down to Lake Ethel.<br />
<br />
The trail dropped fast going into this lake drainage and I was at the lake within a few hours. I set up camp and tried fishing but this lake was holding onto it's reward in the way of fish. By lunch I decided to walk back to the truck and set up camp at the campground where I had started 3 days ago.<br />
<br />
By this time it was getting warm and I ran into a few back packer with their tongues hanging out as they climbed the trail. By 5:00 pm I made it back to my truck but being Saturday all the campsites where full. So I drove back to Denver and was in my little bed by 2:00 am.<br />
<br />vince vogelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09409914685847755131noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-113513403868397494.post-59470624786549247972013-02-27T14:28:00.000-08:002014-02-07T13:57:55.337-08:00Italian/Scottish Western Tour 2012 My good friends from pizza land were going to visit me again in the good old USA. The first time I met the Italians was when we walked across Scotland and had shared a cramped hostel room. Then a few years ago, I invited them to my country for a hiking and ski trip that started in LasVegas. This time I wanted to share with them our spectacular Northwest. We would start in Denver and travel for 36 days, always heading towards the northwest. I am getting a little ahead of myself, let me introduce the players in this grand adventure. I am Vince from Denver-then there is Keith from Scotland-all the rest are from northern Italy, Milan to be exact-Biagio-Piero-Adele-Piero-Allessandra-Carmelo-Giorgio-Antonio-Gianni- and Santino.<br />
<br />
It took me over a month to get all of the arrangements for our stays and the rental van lined up. The Italians had a lot of planning also with getting plane tickets and visas. It all came together on a warm night on Sept. 5th 2012. I had my 15 passenger van ready with a roof carrier attached for all the baggage. I could only park in certain areas of the DIA airport because of the height restriction. I didn't want to wreck our trip before it started by pulling the top off the van. Their plane arrived on time around 7:30 pm, but by the time they made it through customs it was touching on 9:00 pm. Pam, my wife had a complete feast waiting for us when we arrived at our house. It was fun meeting new friends and rubbing elbows with my old friends as we ate the food prepared. Biagio, Piero, Allessandra, Giorgio and Keith had all met up in 2009 when we had walked across Scotland on the The Great Outdoor Challenge. Biagio, and the 3 other Italians had gone with me when I showed them our Southwest.<br />
<br />
Sept 6th- After a good night's sleep, we all met back at our house after the group had been divided up for sleeping. Nick and Anna and Dave and Melisa helped with sleeping accommodations. I loaded up our van with food left over from last night and we headed to the mountains. Mt Evans's 14,000 foot peak would be our destination. There is a road that leads all the way to the top but because of the time of year it was closed at Summit lake. Dave Guzy and his lovely daughter Elizabeth followed in their own car. The weather was clear and we had a fine view of the tundra and twisted pines created from the wild weather inhabiting this part of the country. At one of the stops, a couple from back east were taking in the panoramic views in the distance when the lady gave out a yell. Looking down on the ground she had found a large diamond that must have fallen out of a visiting tourist's ring. Her husband was also excited with the thought of maybe the diamond could pay for their vacation and a couple of beers. That night we all got together with a few additional friends for another feast.<br />
<br />
Sept 7th- The whole group assembled in front of our house with plans of getting all baggage into a 15 passenger van. After much shifting and moving and a little bit of cussing in English and Italian we were ready for our grand travels.<br />
<br />
Our first stop would be the Flat Irons in Boulder, Colo. for some low impact hiking with one eye on downtown Boulder and the other on the impressive Flat Iron mountain formation. It being a weekday, the trails where not as crowded. There are more bicycles in Boulder than cars and I think the same goes for dogs. When someone moves to Boulder I think they stop by the pound and buy themselves a canine. There are some impressive athletic types that live in Boulder and they can be seen running the trails with their trusty dogs and doggy-doo bags hanging from their belts<br />
<br />
I drove our group to Estes Park as our final destination with a short stop at Lyons for some much needed nourishment. This small town has many little shops and a few good restaurants that would meet everyones needs. Dave G and Melisa were joining us for our first couple of days and Miss M. suggested we stop at a Mexican restaurant for food. After traveling with this group before, I should have known that hot Mexican food would go over like a lead balloon, so I planned for the worse. On our last trip I found that it was always easier for me to order for the whole group. I would take pen and paper and try to make it as simple as possible for waiter cook and cashier. This cafe had a special on enchiladas that were not supposed to be hot enough to burn a Northern Italians' tongue. So half the group ordered the special and some chose the traditional American hamburger. The drink of choice was always easy, it being a frothy glass of beer to clear the throat.<br />
<br />
Biagio, always the keen observer noticed a couple of shapely cowgirls at another table. With tight jeans and weathered cowboy hats, they did kind of stand out. Purely from a scientific point of view everybody wanted to know about these girls from the range. I walked over and explained our group makeup and asked if they wanted to join us. Without a moments hesitation these young fillies slid up a chair and became part of the international group. The cowgirls didn't have horses tied up outside, they were riding Harley Davidson motorcycles.<br />
<br />
When our food arrived some of it was a hit and some a miss. Carmelo said he didn't get enough besides it being a bit hot, so he ordered chips. The waiter brought corn chips and the look on Carmelo's face was priceless. Chips in Italy are french fries, which are bought by grand parents when they take their little ones for a treat.<br />
<br />
Within a few hours of driving we pulled into Estes Park with its' high mountains guarding the town. After a few minutes driving around we found our sleeping establishment. I had spent a lot of time locating all our accommodations for our 36 day adventure. Because of the large group I tried to keep one eye on the budget and one eye on location. When I had been investigating Estes Park I couldn't believe my luck when a hostel appeared on my computer screen. I had not only looked at the site but I had also called the nice woman that owned the hostel. She was so glad to take reservations for 12 people. No worries she told me, we have plenty of room at the hostel and a cooking area also.<br />
<br />
I got out of the van first and noticed right off that the place looked well used,with a bit on the shabby side thrown in for flavoring. There was a long wooden staircase on the right side of the building that definitely had seen better days. After climbing up this death trap, I knocked on the side door with hopes of being greeted by some kind of transformation other than what the outside represented. The kitchen, if that's what you would call it, was the first thing I stepped into and out of with one step. A dark living room beheld a man stretched out on a long table with his face in a twisted state. Another fella had his one leg bent straight up towards the ceiling and was pushing down hard on it. After a few seconds I realized the tormentor was a masseuse. "I am here with the party of 12." I explained. "Should I bring the bags up?" I questioned. "Where else would you put them!" was his come back. I thought to myself, this is going to real good, a hostel from hell and a smart ass inn keeper. By this time the rest of the gang along with Dave and Melisa in tow showed up. Even if we all wanted to stay there, it wasn't enough room. I knew we would have a hard time finding something else with the Scottish games going on this weekend. Biagio asked Mr. Smarty Pants about all the trash under the stairs. His reply, "don't look down at it keep your eyes straight ahead."<br />
<br />
All of us spread out in this nightmare, trying to find something that was clean and a place where a normal person could stretch out on. There was one room that had two beds, so we could take that, there was another bed room with one bed so we took that. Then there was one room that had four bunk beds in it, but clothes shoes and assorted other things where thrown around the room. By this time our inn keeper must have been feeling our pain and started to size up the situation. We all went from room to room trying to make sense of this puzzle. One of the rooms, if you could call it that was more like an outside porch with a chaise lounge, could provide a bit of a sleeping space, for somebody that liked the great outdoors. Melissa with a heavy sleeping bag was selected for this room. The next room, which used to be a porch that somebody remodeled with one blind eye the other one that could not see was another possibility.<br />
<br />
Our first place to stay looked like a horror movie set and had a Smart Ass as it's director. Our host told us that a lady who lives up north owned the place and he just watches it for free rent. Two girls from Bulgaria who lived down stairs, were in charge of cleaning for free rent, but I think they where more interested in the night life then the life at the end of a mop! When I explained that we would try and make it work our host said, " I don't care!"<br />
<br />
When we all got back in the van there was a lot of chatter in Italian but I didn't need to know the language to know what the subject was. I decided to drive to Rocky Mountain National Park and take in beautiful scenery to bypass some of the mayhem in Estes Park. I was heading to the park when I noticed a vacancy sign on a nice motel. I couldn't believe my eyes, with a large festival going on in Estes Park, I didn't think there would be any rooms available. I rented a cabin that sleeps six and we all went back and got the six bags from the hostel and switched things out. When I came into the hostel the host said, " I bet you came back for you're bags and you're leaving!"<br />
<br />
It was a nice feeling to get back into the park and look for wildlife and take in the mountain views. Within a few minutes we where looking down on a herd of elk that were grazing in the meadow. The bull elk were bugling for another bull elk to challenge their call, followed by the shoving match with antlers smashing together. We next drove over to Bear Lake and followed the trail around it' scenic views. Large pine trees completely surrounded the lake, with a large mountain crowning the west shore. Our large group were walking and talking when I saw something large moving towards the calm lake. Almost immediately I realized we had broken up a mating ritual between three Elk. The male Elk was doing his very best to get the females into the right mood. Maybe he needed a couple of Dean Martin records and a bottle of wine, but our presence didn't help the situation any, I am sure. This big fella was on a mission and we all tried to stay out of the way of those very sharp antlers. At one time all three Elk stood in knee deep water and the lovely creatures made a picture perfect mirror image on the still water. I don't think the Italians knew how lucky they were to witness such a sight.<br />
<br />
For dinner I had made reservations at a restaurant that overlooks Mary's Lake and everybody got exactly what they wanted, as far as food and drink. After dinner I dropped off the 6 Italians at there new, clean and comfortable motel. Then the rest of us drove back to the Hostel From Hell. While we were gone the crazy twisted host rented out Giorgio's bed and my bed. So Giorgio had to sleep on this old couch and I slept on the floor beside Keith's bed.<br />
<br />
Sept 8th-The next morning our group drove back to the motel which had a real kitchen and ate breakfast. I had written a note pretending it was from our crazy host. I told Piero and the other 5 Italians that I found the note under my door this morning. I tried to keep a straight face as I read it out loud. "I am sorry that the hostel didn't work for you 6! Therefore I am going to give you 2 free nights next summer, but you have to come in a week early to clean!" They all listened then everybody laughed and we ate breakfast.<br />
<br />
This morning was going to be the Scottish festival parade so we drove back down to Estes and found a place to watch the parade. Keith, being from Scotland made watching the parade interesting. Each group that came marching down the street wore a different outfit and carried a sign explaining their clan. Keith was able to fill us in on where the clan came from and and give us a little history. After a few hours the parade was over and we were ready to head back to the park for some more hiking. Dave and Melissa had some things to take care of in Denver so we said goodbye until we would see them again in 30 some days.<br />
<br />
With all the tourists taking in the Scottish activities the park was also pretty crowded. The park service was also working on Bear Lake road so I had to change a few things around and head a different direction. We found a very nice trail that led us to a lake where we could eat our picnic and soak in a little sunlight. We met some other hikers who had the same idea in mind and exchanged some thoughts with them. I had bought some food at the grocery store so we headed back to the motel and cooked a traditional Italian dinner and all was good with the world.<br />
<br />
Sept 9th- It was time to move on to our next adventure but I didn't know exactly how to handle the Hostel From Hell's bill. I sat at the small kitchen table with the host and he explained the way things work in the hostel as far as the billing goes. It would be $26.00 per person per night according to our host. "Now wait a minute, 2 of us had to sleep on a couch and the floor, do we pay for that?"I asked. Before he could answer I said, "Also we aren't paying $26.00 but only $20.00 per person!" "I cleaned up under the stairs and the land lady will be mad!" our host said. To echo his response to my questions, I said "I don't care!"<br />
<br />
We drove back through the park over the highest road in North America, Trail Ridge Road. At the very top there is only alpine flowers and tundra but on this day a bull elk was standing in the crisp clear air. By noon we drove into the Shadow Mountain lake area and brought out our picnic food and had a feast, while looking at the lake.<br />
<br />
By 2:00 pm we drove into Steamboat Springs Colo and checked into a real live motel with beds for all and it was real clean. Carmelo had been eating bananas since he had landed in Denver and he had a problem with his plumbing. Everything seemed to be backed up in Carmelo and his eyes were getting browner by the minute. I had planned a trip to the downtown for some western clothing shopping and then on to the Strawberry Hot Springs. Carmelo wanted to sit in his room and just concentrate on having a smooth movement. I promised him we would stop by a drug store and find the right medicine, told him not to take it before we drop into the hot springs. I thought the hot water and X-lax combination might make for a embarrassing situation for Banana Boy.<br />
<br />
The drive up to the hots springs had breathtaking views, with the aspen trees turning yellow in preparation for winter. We stopped by the waterfall pictured on the Coors beer bottle as a little side trip. By 4:00 pm we drove into the Strawberry Hot Springs parking lot which gave us plenty of time to soak and relax. The ticket taker resides in a old caboose which looks like a old hippie hangout . I had planned on having a steak cookout after our splash and asked our attendant about the location of the barbecue. "Oh we don't allow any cooking around the springs!" explained ex-hipster. Thankfully I had called and gotten permission and directions to the propane burners.<br />
<br />
This hot springs is not your typical resort type enterprise. The changing room is a open pavilion with lots of space for people to stare and gawk at the changers. After dark wearing a bathing suit is optional, as everybody and their dog will tell you in town with a giggle. I have been to a few nudie hot springs and I would say over 75 % of the people should never be seen naked outside of their own home! The bottom of the pool is covered with small round pebbles which feel good on your feet.<br />
<br />
After soaking for a few hours, a group of us walked back to the van and carried all the food down to the picnic tables.We where going to have a lot of cook outs and picnics as we traveled so everybody had a job and all the meals were a happy occasion.<br />
<br />
Sept 10th- Today we would drive to Rock Springs, Wyoming with stop at Dinosaur National Monument. The dinosaurs are long gone but they sure did leave a lot of fossils. A building covers the discovery of over a thousand fossils. The wall of bones is like the size of a football field but slanted at a 45% angle. I have seen the wall several times but I am always impressed by the sheer size.<br />
<br />
By 5:00 pm we drove into the rough and tumble town of Rock Springs and found our nice motel to the travelers liking. On the internet I found an Italian restaurant and we had a great time eating and chatting into the evening.<br />
<br />
Sept 11th- Always heading north we stopped in Pinedale, Wyo to visit a frontier museum that really represented the old west. A tepee was set up outside with another one inside the museum that looked like it had come off an Indian encampment, which it had. After the Battle of the Little Big Horn in 1876, when the army was surveying the area they came upon this tepee with all the weapons and tools abandoned in it.<br />
<br />
Just before lunch time I drove the van on a dirt road that would lead us to Granite Creek hot springs. The hot springs have been here forever but during the 1930's, the CCC build a pool and changing area around the hot springs. What a great area to just sit and soak while the pine trees sway in the breeze. After a few hours of soaking it was time to have a picnic before driving on down the road.<br />
<br />
By late afternoon we drove into the cowboy and ski town of Jackson Hole which would be our stopping point for 2 days. Our hostel was at the bottom of the ski slope which was convenient to the town and the Grand Teton National Park. The hostel host gave us three rooms which slept 4 per room. In the lower level was the eating area with refrigerators and large tables. The cooking part would prove to be a little bit more complicated. There was a hot plate on the main floor and a microwave in the lower floor. I had brought a propane cooker so we set up everything and it worked. "No problems only solutions!"<br />
<br />
Sept 12th-Today we would have a hike around Jenny Lake with the Grand Tetons as our guide. As we drove we noticed a group of cars pulled off the side of the road and it was a bear sighting. The Italians got to see there first bear of our adventure. The trail around the lake was very well maintained and we got to have a 360 degrees view of the lake and the Tetons. As a added bonus we came upon a pair of moose calves half way hiding in some brush right where there mother had left them. By late afternoon we had made it back to our van and it was time to fire up the propane stove.<br />
<br />
Sept 13th- Now it was time to drive to Yellowstone NP, yes the world famous Yellowstone. We entered through the south entrance and within a few hours we saw our first buffalo. We fixed lunch in the picnic area along side Old Faithful geyser. A couple hours were spent walking around the different thermal attractions connected to Old Faithful.<br />
<br />
Then we drove to West Yellowstone and to our camping area. I had rented a few tepees for us to sleep in for our two nights. As we drove down the dusty road we could see the snow white tepees in the distance. A woman checked us in and everybody wondered what the sleeping arrangements would be. But first of all everybody had to sign a waiver. I got everybody lined up and all 12 of us signed on the dotted line. Then the young lady showed us the bath house, which was a very clean mobile shower and toilet unit. Then she showed us to our tepees which had cots with two sleeping bags and a wool blanket, it gets cold in West Yellowstone. Because of the possibility of bears roaming about, we couldn't cook any food and even tooth paste had be stored in the van. There was a place to have a fire and benches around the area.<br />
<br />
We drove back to the town of West Yellowstone and found a restaurant to eat our dinner. It was a little Italian restaurant owned by an Australian and run by a Mexican girl. We ordered pizzas and while we waited Biagio wanted to know what we had all signed. I explained that if a Grizzly Bear came into your tepee during the night and chewed your legs off the tepee company was not responsible!<br />
<br />
Sept 14th-The 2 sleeping bags and wool blanket were needed because we woke up in a frosty tent. We drove into Yellowstone and started the long journey of sightseeing and trying to catch animals with our cameras. Every entrance to the national park proved to be interesting because of the large van chuck full of Italians and Scots. Every ranger figured me for a tour guide without a license and insurance. I have a park pass but at Yellowstone they wanted much more. The ranger couldn't believe I would do this for fun and she asked her supervisor to give me the Third Degree. At first just for fun I told the rangers these people in the van where all my cousins from Italy, Which is another funny thing, for when I made all the reservations for all our stays along the route I didn't know the Italians last names so I gave them mine, "Vogel" Within a few minutes of explaining the ranger waved us through.<br />
<br />
Our first stop was the Painted Mud Pots which have different colored hot mud bubbling up and making a kind of slow motion burping noise. Then we all walked down to the Yellowstone Waterfalls which were running very high and provided lots of views. Along our drive we saw our fair share of animals and by 4:00 pm we where ready to head back to West Yellowstone and to a fine steak dinner. The 2 sleeping bags felt good climbing back into them after a long day of hiking.<br />
<br />
Sept 15th- This morning we are headed to Glacier National Park for some more sightseeing and hiking. Our travels will take us through Montana which at this time was being clouded with smoke from all the forest fires. The town of Kalispell would be the place where we would lay our heads for three nights. The town had lots of stores for shopping and a couple of nice sporting goods stores. The last time I was here I stopped by a ski shop so we got a chance to check this store out again. Keith had been looking for a set of cross country skis and boots. Keith and I put a pair skis and Italian leather boots on the sales counter and asked the clerk for her best price. Keith was able to buy the package for what the boots would cost in Scotland.<br />
<br />
Sept 16th- Santino informed me that his birthday was getting closer and he wanted to have a birthday party, which I thought would be a fantastic idea. I drove to the grocery store and ordered 12 rib eye steaks, then picked up goodies for a salad, birthday cake and party favors.<br />
<br />
I drove everybody into Glacier National Park for some great scenery and perfect hiking trails. The Going to the Sun road would close the next day so we lucked out. the road travels over Logan Pass and the engineering that went into the road is a sight to behold. In fact,the park service hired a landscaper to design the road. The road is cut out of the side of the mountain with panoramic views and waterfalls splashing down on the roads. At the top is a visitor center and a couple of trails that lead even farther up into the sky. We all decided to hike the trail to the over look of a high alpine lake. There were many steps in the wooden board walk that lead onto a dirt trail. After a hour walking we made the summit and what a view we had as we enjoyed our lunch.<br />
<br />
Along the road we spotted several white mountain goats feeding on sections of grass. I was driving along the narrow road trying to not be sideswiped by on coming cars when "BOOM" I had hit a wooden pole stuck into the edge of the road to warn snow plow drivers of where the road ended. The passenger side rear view mirror insert went flying off and then crashed to the ground. Keith ran back and picked up what was left of it.<br />
<br />
We also stopped at McDonald Lodge to have a view of the lake and consume a snack. We met a few people and one fella bought beers for the Italians.<br />
<br />
Back in Kalispell it was party time for Santino. Johnny fired up the barbecue for steak, and everyone else set the picnic table in a local park. After much singing and talking it was time for Santino to give a birthday toast which he did and thanked everyone for being there. As a gag gift I gave Santino a can opener to replace the one he had broken, that I had brought from home!<br />
<br />
Sept 17th- Today we hung around Kalispell and did some window shopping. We all went into a thrift store and some of us found a few bargains. I went into Walmart and found a makeup mirror for $4.50 and with a couple of smashed beer cans behind the mirror, I duct taped the mirror insert back into its' place. It sure beat the $150 the glass man wanted.<br />
<br />
That night I found a small Italian restaurant that had a special on spaghetti dinners with a salad. The owner came by a few times and had a ball talking to all of us.<br />
<br />
When we got back to the motel, we stood outside our rooms talking and a lady came out and wondered what was going on. This screw ball from another planet wanted to know where all of us were from. As soon as we said Italy she went into this long speech about how the Vatican was against the Lutheran Church. I thought Lutherans were calm and docile, but not this one. She told Biagio she had the copy of the doctrine that Martin Luther had nailed on the door of the Catholic Church. Biagio thought she said come into my room and I'll show you the paper. Biagio followed her into her room and she let out yell. "He's in my room!" I got the international incident straightened out and we gave this woman a wide berth.<br />
<br />
Sept 18th- I had breakfast stuff in my room and was outside getting the propane burners fires up outside when the crazed Lutheran showed up. "I have a 5 year old boy in my room and could you watch him while I get coffee in the lobby?" she asked. I thought to myself this could go from bad to worse in a matter of minutes. "How about if I go get your coffee and you watch your child?" Then I ran to the lobby and was back before she could say "Bless your heathen heart!" <br />
<br />
As we drove through town a car next to us slammed into the stopped car ahead of it. Then within a hour I was driving when the car in front of us slammed on its' brakes. I cut the steering wheel a hard left and just missed the car but drove through a school crossing zone. Then I looked in the rear view mirror and saw a police car with lights a flashing coming towards us. I pulled on a side road and the officer walked up to the van. "Did you know you drove through a school crossing?" he asked. "Yes I did but the car in front of me slammed on its' brakes and to avoid an accident, I drove around the car." I explained. "I also noticed that all of your passengers are not wearing seat belts and that's a $100.00 fine per passenger!" he explained. Trying to worm my way out of this potential huge fine, I decided to use the police badge card. "My son, that is on the SWAT team, has the same bullet proof vest that I noticed you are wearing." I declared. Our officer went back to his car and sat there for 15 minutes, then came back with a warning ticket and an envelope for a $20.00 donation to the endangered Montana Bigfoot. After that I pulled out real slow and drove into the setting sun.<br />
<br />
By the time we drove into Spokane,Washington it was a little late in the afternoon. After checking into our motel we drove downtown and walked around the park that borders the river and waterfalls. After a lot of sightseeing we had worn a hole in our stomach that needed to be filled. I had made reservation at the Steam Plant restaurant. The host took us through the restaurant and showed us to our own room. Everyone left with a smile on our faces.<br />
<br />
Sept 19th- Today we had Mt Rainer National Park on our schedule. As we got closert to the mighty mountain we had fantastic views of all the glaciers on its' slopes. We would be staying in a small town named Randie. I drove into the driveway, and the motel was old and spread out, with a cabin here and a another building there. I walked into the bar and lobby and found the woman that owned the place. We had both mixed up the day that had been reserved for our stay. After more then a few minutes trying to figure out who could sleep where, we all walked into another buildings and counted beds. We finally ended up with a cabin and two rooms. I would sleep on the floor and used cushions off the outside chairs as my mattress.<br />
<br />
Sept 20th- After talking to a ranger in the visitor center, I found a trail that would lead us up to Paradise Park on the slope of Mt Rainer. We parked the van and met a couple that wanted to join us on our little adventure. The trail was always climbing and snaking around the different valleys. Part of it I had hiked before when I hiked the Wonderland Trail in 2004. By lunch time we found a small waterfall and our new friends along with a few old friends were getting tired out. Within a few minutes after lunch we found a hard top road and part of our group decided to walk or hitchhike back to the van. The rest of us carried on until we feared we might run out of sunlight and turned around.<br />
<br />
Now it was Carmelo "Banana Boy's" birthday, so lets party. I had asked the bar restaurant if they could cook us up a feast of steaks, salad and french fries. They where more then glad to accommodate us but they didn't have any cake or decorations. The only store was located 20 miles back from where we had come from. I bought cake, decorations and Champagne. I was driving back to the motel when a state trooper driving towards me flipped a u-turn on the road. He pulled me over and I think it might have been racial profiling, since I tend to be a tad darker then most people. He walked up to the van shining his flash light in the back of the empty van. " After looking at my license and realizing I wasn't an illegal, he said " I know you probably thought the speed limit is 60 but it's really 50!" and then he turned and walked away.<br />
<br />
I decorated the room for our party, which happened to be connected to the bar. All the patrons at the bar who probably had one to many drinks, kept swinging around in their bar stools and looking my way. one yelled "Are you getting married?" and then laughed. " Yes I am in love with a waitress, and I don't even know her name!" was my reply. Which really got them all laughing.<br />
<br />
The party went off without a hitch and we drank the bubbly and ate cake back in the motel room.<br />
<br />
Sept 21st-Today we are headed to our first large city,Seattle, Washington. Our hostel is located in downtown Seattle and has everything a hostel should have. A clean kitchen and breakfast is included in the price. We unloaded all our gear and headed to the heart of the city, where all the shopping and fish markets are located. Along the way we walked along the wharf and checked out a few boats and also noticed some activity under white tents. Come to find out there is a tradition where local Indians paddle these large wooden canoes into the harbor to honor the catching of salmon. There was a large crowd around Pike Fish Market so we slowly worked our way through the masses. Most of the other shops were not as crowded. Everybody had different types of shopping in mind so it was every man for himself.. The crowds were large around the restaurants so we had to settle for Subway sandwiches. As we were crossing the street a black women with red and blue hearts painted on her face ran right in to the rush hour traffic yelling about something that must have been very important to her. She was dressed in a white sheet and had a aluminum covered hoop that dangled above her head, picture an angel. Two policeman, talking to her, couldn't picture her as a angel, she was more of a nuisance. After they left she went right back into traffic as she chattered away to the car hoods banging on them.<br />
<br />
We walked down to the aquarium and spent several hours gazing into the world of the marine life represented behind the thick glass. There was a lot to learn if you spent the time reading about all the sea creatures.<br />
<br />
It was dinner time and I knew where I wanted to be, back at the Salmon Festival. For $10.00 the cooks gave you a large slice of salmon, potato salad, baked beans, bread and a drink. There was more then a few homeless people hanging out in Seattle and one fella just seemed to be following us. This fella was like my shadow as I ordered my food and then stood over me when I started to eat it. I ordered another for him but the cook said they already fed him earlier, so I had to tell him to move down the road which he did.<br />
<br />
Sept 22nd-Today would be the day for the Indians to paddle their wooden canoes into the harbor to start the Salmon festival. We all walked around and looked at the different shops selling tickets to the tourists. Carmelo couldn't get enough refrigerator magnets representing the areas that we had visited.<br />
<br />
In the distance we could see a number of canoes paddling towards our bay. Numerous Indians from different villages came to represent their tribes. Within an hour all the canoes from the various tribes in the area were lined up facing the harbor. A single leader in each canoe would yell greetings and ask if their tribe was welcome to the festival. The woman chief standing on the dock would yell "Yes you are welcome!" One canoe held the great grandchild of Chief Seattle. All of the canoes and the Indians in them were decorated for the event.<br />
<br />
After spending hours watching the ceremony, we walked to the Space Needle that overlooks the city of Seattle. We had to wait for our turn to travel in the elevator to the top of the tower but it was worth the wait.<br />
<br />
Sept 23- Today we were going to travel to Port Angeles, Washington to catch the ferry to Victoria BC the next day. Our travels took us along the coast line of Washington with many sights to take in as we looked out the windows of the van. We stopped at an Indian settlement and went through their museum and gift shop. By the time we got to Port Angles it was dinner time and we were able to set up our food in the breakfast area.<br />
<br />
Sept 24th- We arrived early to catch the ferry to Victoria that would take a few hours of our time. There was a bit of fog, but for the most part it was clear sailing. The ferry pulled into the harbor and we could see the Empress Hotel and the capitol building. After walking for 15 minutes, we arrived at our hostel but our rooms were not ready so we dropped off our bags in the basement and started our adventure downtown. I have always loved the Natural History Museum and made that our first stop. There are three floors of everything you can think of that relates to the Northwest. The museum has a full replica of Captain Cook's cabin that was part of his boat. There is a whole seaside town with barber shops, saloons and hotel, it is one of the best museums ever. The Italians attention wasn't as focused as mine was, so they just walked right through the museum and were ready for something more stimulating. I told them to walk around the town while I spent another hour at the museum. Keith had missed the Captain Cook's officer's quarters so he joined me.<br />
<br />
Sept 25th- Today we decided to take a hike in the mountains, which we could reach by bus. Santino and Banana Boy decided to hang around Victoria. I had ordered 12 sandwiches for our lunch at a local restaurant so that would be our first stop. Then it was a short walk to the bus stop and within an hour we were at the road that would lead us to the trail head. As we walked along I noticed a huge apple tree covered with red apples. I walked up to the house and ask the owner if we could have a few. With a surprised look she said. :You are the first person in 20 years that has ever asked, most people just take them!"<br />
<br />
Our trail led us up over a wooded area covered with raspberry bushes full of lovely black berries. I got to thinking that maybe we didn't even need to bring food. The trail emerged onto a beach with lots of sea life to explore.<br />
<br />
After eating our apples, berries and lunch we walked back to the bus stop, and within an hour we were back at our hostel. We dropped our packs and headed to the capitol building for a bit of a tour. The next stop was the Empress Hotel with its' highly decorated exterior and interior. I don't know what they charge to stay here but it didn't cost a dime to have a look see.<br />
<br />
We had dinner at a Vietnamese restaurant which was a first for my Italian friends but they seemed to enjoy it. After dinner we took a long stroll along the bay lit up with reflected lights from the city.<br />
<br />
Sept 26th- It was time to say "adios" to Victoria and "hola" to Port Angeles again. The ferry ride went rather smoothly and before we headed back to the motel we took a look at the Olympic National Park visitor center. We had planned on doing a long hike here tomorrow, and I needed some info on the right trails to explore.Our new ranger friend suggested a few hikes that would take us close to the view of Mt Olympic.<br />
<br />
For dinner I picked up some steaks and found out from my meat clerk about a great park to cook them in. She had gotten married there and said it was the cats' meow. The only problem was the great distance which she forgot to tell me about. By the time we arrived it was already getting dark, and by the time we finished cooking, we had to eat by van headlights.<br />
<br />
Set 27th- Our group headed to the trail head which the ranger said may be steep and he was right on. The trail kept leading us higher and higher with great views as our reward. We all had lunch with a view of Mt Olympic. The trail coming down was so steep every step required us to hold ourselves back, in order not to turn into a bowling ball. I got back to the van first, and knowing everybody would want some refreshments I drove into town and bought some beer and chips. The sight of my tired friends coming off the trail made me realize I had made the right decision. For the next couple of days the front of our legs were very sore, particularly when we sat in the van for a few hours.<br />
<br />
Sept 28th- Today we will be heading to Forks with our first stop at Sol Duc Hot Springs. The hot springs are located in the national park but are run by a private company. The water was the hottest we had encountered at 107 F. The water was very clear and very soothing as we splashed around. After we got out Giorgio noticed his camera was missing. I asked the clerk if they had a lost and found and she produced the camera which was a relief to Giorgio.<br />
<br />
We checked into our motel in Forks and then I noticed I didn't have the van keys. I had placed the keys on the dash and we had locked the van. The motel owner knew someone and within a few minutes they showed up and with a long flex cable and unlocked the door.<br />
<br />
I found an Italian Restaurant in town and talked with the owner about eating there. If it was good, we would eat there again tomorrow night. The pizza and beer were very good so it was all set up for manana.<br />
<br />
Sept 29th- We drove into Olympic National Park with the idea of hiking up the Hoh Rainforest trail. The weather held as we walked along the forest floor and watched in wonder at all the moss covered trees. By lunch time we had come to a back pack campsite and decided to have lunch there. The walk back was just as nice with the river running beside the trail for most of the way.<br />
<br />
Tonight, at the same restaurant for dinner we had our own private room with lots of pitchers of beer to go with the pasta.<br />
<br />
Sept 30th- Today we were going to drive to Astoria, Oregon and meet up with some of the Italian friends that they had met on the TGO in Scotland. On the way down we stopped at a few harbor towns and got to look around. At Westport we visited the harbor and watched a zillion seagulls trying to get bait fish from under huge nets. These crafty birds would walk on the nets and occasionally when the nets touched the water, the fish would rise to the surface, and the birds would lunge forward and grab a meal. A high tower at the end of town provided a great view of the ocean from its' lofty reaches.<br />
<br />
We found our motel in Astoria fairly easily and then came the hard part, finding the Italians friends. We called his wife and then called him. He then called called us and the motel but we never got connected to anybody! I found a park for a our dinner meal, and sat at a picnic table after having given directions to this hard to find friend. In a few minutes this lost soul made an appearance and we all sat around and ate and talked. It got to be so late that this fella had to stay over and leave the next morning.<br />
<br />
Oct 1st- A month has gone by, and today we would travel into California for the first time. The Oregon coast holds many hidden gems in the way of beautiful beaches. Our group stopped at a few of them and we ate our meal along one of the wind swept ones.<br />
<br />
By night fall we were getting close to our destination of Crescent City and the trees where getting a lot bigger. Our motel was located at the edge of town and there was a pizza place which served cheap pizza and cold beer. The food and drink put a end to a fine day.<br />
<br />
Oct 2nd - We had driven through a massive Redwood grove last night and due to the darkness we couldn't see the splendor of these giants. I retraced our travel from last night and found a long dirt road that led us right in the middle of these brutes. Everyone got sore necks from looking up into the blue skies, as they tried to fathom the size of these trees. It didn't matter the kind of camera we had, the trees couldn't be captured in our lenses.<br />
<br />
The world famous town of San Francisco would be our resting spot for a few days. The city by the bay was on everyone's minds as we drove into town. Our hostel was located on one of the many main streets and it took a little time to find the right hostel. We had traveled from the peace and quiet of Northern California to the explosion of noise in a major city. I parked across the street from the hostel and we had to unload and carry everything across the street and into the hostel without becoming a part of a traffic accident. The hostel was huge and very well run. Our rooms were spread out all over the third floor. It was fun exploring the building and finding out what this hostel had to offer.<br />
<br />
All of us were excited about visiting Fisherman's Wharf and taking in a fine meal along the way. I found out where Little Italy was located and off we all went. At a couple of the restaurants we stopped in, the pasta must have been made of gold for the prices they where charging. At one place the Mona Lisa, the owner came out and talked with us and finding out the group was from Milan, he decided to charge us the local Italian rate instead of the tourist rate.<br />
<br />
After a fine meal we walked down to Fisherman's Wharf and to all the other attractions. There was plenty of gift shops for Banana Boy to buy refrigerator magnets. I told him that his frig might fall over with the weight of all of those magnets.<br />
<br />
Oct 3rd - Last week, before arriving in San Fran, we had reserved tickets to visit the island prison of Alcatraz. Today would be our lucky day to visit the rock, which I imagine wasn't somebody's luck if they were scheduled to be a prisoner. We were glad we got our tickets early, because hordes of people lined up to get on the ferry that would take us to the rock. Before we boarded, and as a way for the tour company to make more money, they had each group of tourists line up and take pictures, with Alcatraz in the back ground.<br />
<br />
The trip over in the boat was the only way to get to the rock with views of the Golden Gate bridge and San Fran's skyline as an added treat. A ranger met our boat with some important info at this National Park site. Then it was everybody for themselves with the idea of meeting back at a certain time to get on our boat. I found the place very interesting with stories of events and the prisoners that served their time here.<br />
<br />
After a few hours it was time for us to get back on the boat for our return to the city by the bay. There in long rows were the pictures that had been taken hours earlier. I showed them to Johnny and with smile he stuck them in his pocket and walked on. I didn't have the heart to tell him that we had to pay for them! I found a small cafe and went in and ordered 12 sandwiches, and it was quite a treat to watch a woman make all the sandwiches. Her hands where moving so fast you couldn't see them. Every place we ate at was a two sided sword, the restaurant was glad to see such a large group but it made the waitress's jobs a lot tougher with 10 Italians ordering from a English menu.<br />
<br />
After lunch we walked up to the tower overlooking the city and then had a nice walk around the area. We all hung out in a local park and then decided to have dinner at the hostel. We were close to a grocery store, and three of us filled up our packs with dinner items. After a full meal of pasta, I was looking up at the activity board showing what was going on at the hostel. For tonight, it was pizza with a showing of the movie "The Rock" in their events center. Sure enough when I arrived the movie was just about to start and then a woman showed up with 10 pizza pies. It was nice watching the movie after having just been to Alcatraz.<br />
<br />
Oct 4th- My friends have always heard about Napa Valley and today would be the day for them to experience it. I had to walk over to the underground parking garage and free our mighty van. The countryside leading to the valley was picture perfect with acres of grape vines and fruit trees. In one small town we walked around and went into a winery for some wine tasting, with everyone leaving feeling a little less pain. I found a large market that sold everything we could imagine in the way of Italian picnic goodies. We walked around to the different vendors and bought cheese, hard bread, fruits and glasses of beer. We all carried our meals outside and had a feast fit for a couple of kings and maybe a few queens.<br />
<br />
We drove to Calistoga with the idea of dipping our bodies into some more soothing hot springs. I saw an advertisement for the springs and walked into the establishment. The prices on the wall were not made for us mortals as they were sky high. Come to find out, this place was made for the people with deep pockets who needed the extra touch and a little pampering. I found a pleasant hot springs just down the road which was top notch. The changing rooms where big and clean. The hot springs were laid out very nicely with fountains. We sat and swam in the pools for hours.<br />
<br />
Oct 5th- Time to hit the road again with the national parks of Sequoia and Yosemite on our hit list. We had to drive over the Golden Gate Bridge and then walk back over it before our San Fran trip would be complete. I drove to the far side and parked the van, and as usual for this area, it was foggy, cold and windy, a typical day along the bay. We all traveled along the bridge walkway with hundred of visions for our eyes to behold. A long way down below us was the water of the bay that looked cold and somewhat inviting in a strange way. Seals on a distant rock barked and fog horns blared their lonely wail. There were large yellow signs every so often advising potential suicide jumpers to call this number listed. At the half way point some of the group decided to turn around and head back to the warmth of the van. The rest of us plodded on and at the end of the bridge on the San Fran side we found bathrooms and a few goodies to buy, especially something to warm our bodies.<br />
<br />
On our return journey across the bridge, I noticed a Coast Guard boat plowing through the water towards the lapping waves below the bridge. I also noticed a couple of fisherman pointing to the deep dark water. A fellow next to me at the guard rail, told me that someone had jumped off the bridge. We saw a set of clothes spooky like floating in the water without its' owner. This poor fellow hit the water so hard that his clothes got ripped off.<br />
<br />
By noon we had found our motel in Mercer, our stopping spot for a few days of exploration. I knew we had a long drive to Sequoia today so I wanted to drop our gear and start the adventure. In the lobby was a man talking to the host about his lost tooth brush. For 15 minutes the host and this idiot talked about his missing tooth brush. The host offered to buy a new one, giving him anything to end this craziness. Finally after the battle of the brush ended, I was able to check in, with the clerk just shaking his head and saying, "Why did I buy this motel?"<br />
<br />
Our road kept getting higher and higher as we got closer to the giant trees of Sequoia. A stop at the visitor center showed all of us what the park had to offer. I had been here many times before. Everyone was amazed by the sheer size of the trees. We took a couple long treks through the forest with our eyes always looking up.<br />
<br />
Oct 6th- Yosemite NP would be on the dance card today. The weather was picture perfect for us to take in all the magnificence that the park had to offer. The views of the sheer rock walls cannot be described. The mirror images on small lakes and ponds made for many Kodak moments. We had a nice picnic in the Yosemite Valley, as we filled their bellies and our eyes.<br />
<br />
Oct 7th- Time to start heading back to Denver with a few stops along the way. We drove back through Yosemite and got to have a view from above the park. Large granite slabs of rocks made for a large play area for many tourists and our group along the parkway.<br />
<br />
Our next state besides confusion, would be Nevada. At every state line we would all pile out of the van and take numerous pictures. At the Cali.- Nevada state line a truck was setting out in the middle of nowhere, it wasn't the end of the world but you could see it from here. The driver got out when we pulled up and he was looking at the bullet riddled sign of California. Thinking the Italians could speak English or care about his opinion he started into his sermon. "This represents what Nevada thinks of California gun laws!" pointing to the demolished state sign.<br />
<br />
Our stopping spot would be Hawthorne, the capitol of the bomb making factory for our armed forces. In the distance there were hundreds of buried bunkers that held powder with a few workers putting together weapons of mass destruction. The town was proud of its' place in our history for making bombs for all of our wars. There where several museums showing all the different types of hardware used in the bomb making process.<br />
<br />
Oct 8th-Our next state would be Utah and the city of Salt Lake. On the way we traveled by the Bonneville Salt Flats and talked to a couple of old race car drivers.<br />
<br />
Oct 9th- I wanted my guests to get the whole experience of Salt Lake so we drove downtown, and took in all that the Mormon faith had to offer. The city center has really changed and has added much to the holy square. The building showing the scale model of the temple is very informative. A visual aid shows a cross section of the temple, since non Mormons can't enter. Another room has a giant oil painting of the high priest with a select number of questions that he answers from a computer. It's mostly about how to run your life successfully as a Mormon. There is also an area dedicated for anyone to be able to look up their ancestors. The Italians found their long lost family way over in Milan.<br />
<br />
Another three story building is the event center that has a 5 acre garden on the roof . As we traveled to each floor there was more info on and about the Mormon religion.<br />
<br />
We drove to Frisco, Colorado and had plenty of time to shop till the Italians dropped at many factory outlet stores.<br />
<br />
Oct 10th- Heading to the last roundup, Denver, and the plane home. We wanted to have a last hurrah so we bought a lot of food and friends brought a lot of food. We sat around for hours and talked about our adventure.<br />
<br />
On the way to the aeroporto I stopped at Buffalo Bill's grave so the Italians could look at history and have a great view of the the city of Denver. I also asked everyone why Buffalo Bill was buried here? "because he is dead, ha ha!"<br />
<br />
Everyone, including myself seemed to have a great time and it seemed like we were gone for just a few days, not 36 days. We drove a total of 6,600 miles. Man oh man/ HO KA HEY!!<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />vince vogelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09409914685847755131noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-113513403868397494.post-56577423619465028262012-05-11T15:34:00.002-07:002014-02-07T13:58:02.727-08:00Katy trail 20125/4/12 Mike L. and I got an early start driving towards Clinton, Mo. The 670 mile drive would take awhile so we wanted to allow enough time to get there without having the highway patrol collecting revenue for their Christmas fund. The terrain from Denver and across Kansas changed from the brown flat of Colorado to the green flat of western Kansas. When we got about half way across Kansas the rolling hills started to appear. The humidity was observed, since we were used to Denver, the driest city in the whole USA. After 11 hours of driving we arrived in Clinton, Mo. The start of the 250 mile Katy trail starts right here or ends here, according to which way your bike is headed. A very nice trail head with a detailed map showed what lay before us. A group of college kids had ridden to Sedalia and back, a 76 miler in 90 degree heat and 90 degree humidity, and they looked like it. Their shirtless backs shined from the sweat that was pouring out of their pores. They tried to convince us and themselves that they had biked close to a hunderd miles, but it only seemed to be that far. They did give us some valuable info on free camping behind the community center.<br />
<br />
We checked out the camping spots and then checked out the restaurant scene. An Italian restaurant in the downtown square filled us up with homemade pasta and bread. This would be our last kitchen cooked meal for a few days, so we tried to make it last, by almost sweeping the floors and pulling up the chairs on the tables.<br />
<br />
We drove back to the community center and noticed dew had already formed on the grass. We set up our tents and noticed fire flies lighting up the dark skies. Mike had never seen them so it was quite a treat. A lone car pulled into the large lot and the driver just sat in his car, with the dome lights on. I was wondering if we where going to wake up dead from this potential axe murderer.<br />
<br />
I did wake up to a wet tent drapped across my body, the heavy dew had weighted down the tent and I felt like I was held between two wet sheets. I had brought a bigger tent and set it up around midnight, with much relief.<br />
<br />
5/5/12 Next morning we loaded up our bikes and parked the truck with our canoes on top. May 12 would be the next time we would hopefully see the vehicle. We rode our bikes to the trailhead and our camp companion was sitting in his Cadillac. He had a Rosy Crested Cockatoo and a small lap dog with him. He seemed to be homeless, but going in style with the Caddy as a shelter. I think it was Will Rogers who said America is the only society that went to the <br />
poor house in a Cadillac.<br />
<br />
We had 36 miles to bike today and the humidity was a tad high, with dew dripping off our biking helmets. A cold front was supposed to bring relief to the area in the form of a major thunder boomer, forcasted for tonight.Every town that used to be part of the Katy trail way had a shelter for bike riders and in most cases a tiolet with some running water. Some of the towns were located just a few miles away and others as far as 15 miles apart. Sedalia, our stop for the night used to be a major stop for the train that connected Oklahomha, Texas and Kansas. The path leading to our town was hard packed limestone and what a sweet trail it was. In some cases it was better than riding on a black top service road. Large fields of newly planted crops lined the path on both sides. Sometimes a thick forest came down to the trail which was a welcome relief from the sun. Lots of critters either scampered or slithered across our path. Packs or groups of turtles found the trail very appealing for a morning sunning.<br />
<br />
Within a hour we biked into the town of Calhoun, that as suppouse to have a cafe named the Whistle Stop. I found the barn wood covered building decorated with a faded sign reading Whistle Stop. We rode through town and found a small gas station that sold snacks and drinks. I asked inside about the Whistle Stop and a fella that lived there hppened to be in the store. His sister owned the Whistle Stop but got tired of chasing her tenants for her rent money. Her brother also needed a place to lay his had so he made the restaurant into a apartment. The women behind the cash register told me that she had plans on biking the Katy, "if I could find my bike that was purchased 10 years ago!" she said. At lunch time we rode by a sign reading Dairy Queen, attached to a arrow pointng right towards the town of Windsor. We found the ice cream stand that was being manned by Mr. Wilson. His family bought this store 65 years ago and had lived in the house that was connected to the store front. Mr. Wilson when he retired a few yeas ago moved into the bussiness and house. By 3:00 pm we biked into the town of Sedalia, and after asking directions we found our campsite at the state fair grounds. I imagined a small fair ground with some out building,WRONG these people take their county fairs very serious. This complex was the size of a small country with 500 acres of buildings and camping for 1,500 campers. When we arrived a black smithing convention was going on so there weren't that many people. We found our little place of heaven for the night under some big oak trees as cover from the rain that was forecast. We found the showers with both temps of water that could wash off a few pounds of trail dust, and cool down our bodies. <br />
<br />
A fellow camper told us a guard would come by for the dinero sometime tonight. In the meantime Mike and I rode our bikes to a local grocery store for a little fresh fruit. After dinner we rode all around the buildings. These structures where built to last, with red brick covers and metal roofs. Signs on the front of the buildings identified the type of product inside. And along with the building was another structure that sold the product inside the building. The dairy building had a giant ice cream building beside it. The open swine building was so big that I rode my bike up and down the concrete pathways. It had a pork restaurant on the outside of it. A well manicured garden represented a lot of the flowers and trees native to Missouri.<br />
<br />
The more I rode the more I noticed the evening skies getting darker with lightning flashes in the distance. A guard came by to pick up $10.00 for the camping and to tell us that a tornado warning had been declared in Kansas City. If the tornado did arrive he said to head to the brick bathrooms and hold onto a toilet. It reminded me of a joke. A women gets stuck on her tiolet seat and her husband can't get her off. "You better call the firemen to help get me off this seat!" says the woman. "But first hand me that cowboy hat to put on my lap!" she says. The firemen came rushing in and the the captain of the squad looks the situation over. As he is scratching his head he says " I see no problem saving you but the cowboys a goner!"<br />
<br />
The storm seemed to be pretty far off until a lighnting bolt hit the trees next to a parked RV. Mike and I didn't spare any time running to the brick toilets. After a half hour of heavy rain the show was over and our guard came back and said we had missed the twister. We walked back to our tents and settled in for the night of storm after storm with lots of lightning.<br />
<br />
5/6/12 The next morning brought cloudy skies but no humidity. YIPEEE We rode our bikes to the Sedalia refurbished train station. The original station was built in the 1890's and the state of Missouri had put millions of dollars into the building. Somebody sure knew what they were doing when it was decided to fix up the station. We had a self guided tour from basement on up. In the Victorian times train stations had male and female waiting rooms, since us men are a bit rough around the edges, not me now! One room had the history of the Katy train way with hunderds of rail connecting all the bordering states which was a major employer until trucking came in.<br />
<br />
Outside the building was a restroom and we noticed a fellow biker sitting against a wall. Miss Chicago as I called her had gotten a ride to Clinton from Chicago and was on a collision course with the Katy Trail. She hadn't trained <br />
enough for the mileage and her gear was heavy. She also was a tad bit over weigh but had lost 30 pounds trying to get in shape for the pounding of the trail. She had stopped last night in the swine building at the state fairground<br />
because she had taken so much time biking in from Clinton that it was dark and raining when she arrived. I can't imagine sleeping there as the building could be used to make a slasher movie. She told us about how hard it was to get time off her job for his bike ride. After pleading and begging her boss OK'd the week off. "You will probably end in a shallow grave with a long knife in you're chest!" was the boss's last wods.<br />
We meet up with her again on the trail when we saw a couple having trouble with their bikes just outside of Sedalia.<br />
The husband's front tire had a slash across it and the tube had come out and blown apart. He had taken a piece of velcro and strapped it across the outside of the tire. It would have lasted maybe 1 mile. We took the tire apart and used duct tabe and heavy cardboard inside the tire and put in a new tube. I suggested he bike back the 5 miles to Sedalia to a bike shop and get a new tire. "No I want to continue, it's only 30 miles to Boonville!" he said.<br />
We left the couple and Miss Chicago and continued onto our new campsite at New Franklin, just across the Missouri River.<br />
<br />
We stopped at a small town of Pilot Grove along the trail for a bit of refreshment and to dry out our tents from last night's storm. I started to walk across the street to a small grocery store but only ghosts shopped there now. We found this true along a lot of the trail. Small stores and restaurants were closed up from lack of business or ambition. I rode my bike up the street to one of the many friendly Casey gas stations with a convenience store. I had just locked my bike down when a fellow biker in a bright yellow shirt walked up to me. His hands were plenty busy with assorted junk food. "Are you going all the way to St Louis?" he asked. "It seems like you don't have enough gear for that kind of trip." as he pointed out his bike. He must have had 100 pounds of gear and he wasn't a slim jim either. In the rear of his bike he had two panniers and two duffle bags on top of that. In the front he had two <br />
front panniers and handle bar mounted camera and radio. It was already 2:30 pm and he was just getting started. I mentioned the camp ground at New Franklin was just ahead but the Texas Toothpick, as I called him, wanted to do 30 miles today, so we said goodbye as we crossed the bridge over the Missouri River. Like a lot of travelers I meet they have great ambitions wiyh little experience, his plan was to bike into Canada!<br />
<br />
At Booneville there is a great train station turned into a visitor center. In the front window was a very clever<br />
poster of a long haired woman riding a bike on the Katy trail with a a jug of whiskey under her arm. I liked the <br />
poster so much the woman behind the desk gave me one and I mailed it home.<br />
<br />
Mike and I rode into the New Franklin campsite and it was very clean with hot showers. We unloaded our gear and rode around town after dinner. Another Mike, a former teacher in the Cathlic church in Salina Kansas, was camped beside us and he had many questions about biking and camping. He had just retired and wanted to get into the great<br />
outdoors. After asking him a few questions about the church in Salina Kansas, I found out that my cousin Cerial<br />
Vogel, the local bishop had confimered his 2 sons, into the church<br />
About 6:00 pm Miss Chicago came dragging into camp with her bike between her tail, it didn't look good. Every part of her body was in the rebellion stage, especcialy the part where the sun doesn't shine. She was already talking <br />
about how she could cut her trip short, like right now. We tried to talk her into going for the next 30 miles but <br />
we never saw Miss Chicago or Texas Toothpick again.<br />
<br />
5/7/12 This campsite was especially great because the camp host never came by to collect the dinero for our camping. After finishing our breakfast of oatmeal we headed down the trail and it really is all down hill from here since we will be following the river to St Louis. Since Lewis and Clark used this Missouri river bottom as their trail of discovery, the Missouri department of whatever has erected hundreds of sign posts marking things that Lewis and Clark did along their way. it's great fun to stop and read about some of the events they overcame paddling up the river, yes boys and girls they paddled against the current, and this river really moves. Thousands of floating trees and tree limbs went sailing down the river as we biked beside the current. <br />
Our first town along the Missouri was Rocheport, and what a beauty it was. We biked up into the main town and talked with a few locals and got a feel for the area. A tour bus pulled into the rebuilt train station and let off some folks to stretch their legs along this Katy Trail. More then a few of these older folks wish they where going with us on our little adventure. There seemed to be a lot more critters along this part of the trail, especially in the way of turtles and snakes. Lots of snapping turtles crawled up on the trail to soak in the sun rays, since the Missouri water was a bit chilly. These shelled creatures with one inch claws look like dinosaurs which I guess they are.<br />
<br />
If we rode our bikes 10 miles farther today then it would mean we would have 10 miles less tommorrow, I didn't even take college math. I had planned on stopping at Copper's landing in Easley but why not go to Hartsburg, since we got hold of the fella that OK's the camping in the town square. At the Hartsburg crossing three bikes were leaning<br />
against the fence when I pedaled in. A mother and her two kids where riding the Katy. They had started out with <br />
one other rider but he gave up the ghost after 40 miles. Her husband, their support, had just gotten home from a 3 <br />
hour drive, when she called and told him to come back and pick up the tired bike rider. I had seen a Copperhead <br />
snake on the trail and mentioned its' beautiful colors. "WAIT-WAIT I can beat that!" she said. "Yesterday we were<br />
riding along when a Billy Goat came charging down the hillside and slammed into our trailer that carried our <br />
gear!" she explained. "Then two days ago 2 Pit Bulls and three other dogs tried to stop us on the trail" she said.<br />
All the time she was talking her tribe was stuffing Slim Jims into their mouths like they were going out of style.<br />
She had stopped by Cosco and picked up a 50 gallon drum of Slim Jims, for the trip. The kids told me they always <br />
stopped at stream crossings and counted turtles and this really excited them, rememeber there isn't any TV out here.<br />
There was a real live restaurant and watering hole next to the trail, this was the first. Mike and I stopped by and<br />
talked with the owner. the place was originally a winery but had gone belly up, the owner drank the profits, maybe.<br />
We found out after filling our bellies with a few bags of chips that there wasn't much to do in this small town, but get back on our bikes and cruise the area. Much to our surprise we did find a wild life area and a couple of miles of back country bike trails. Our trail led us over hill and dale and finally to an over look of the Missouri river basin. it was well worth the extra pedalling with a view to die for.<br />
<br />
When we got back to our campsite along side a town square gazebo we saw a couple of women hanging around our newest friend who owned the restaurant. Thinking it was Miss Chicago we walked over to give our praises, but it turned out to be a couple of woman from Colorado. They were with a small group of 5 and had been staying at a B & B along the trail. I found out one of their friends was with the Colorado Trail Assocaition from near my home town and I have hiked the 500 mile trail a couple of times, so we had a nice chat.<br />
<br />
For a change of pace we decided to eat dinner at our watering hole, that being the only place in town. The owner and his mother-in-law were trying their best to drink up all the profits with a continuous supply of Bud Lite beers standing in front of them. After dinner we rode our bikes down to the Missouri river and discovered a large tree with a small black berry type fruit, that tasted good. We rode back to ask the bar keep what type of berries they were and the whole group was half gassed with empty bottles decorating the bar top. We did find out through their slurred speech our trees are Mulberry trees and they are good. In fact we noticed a fisherman by this tree over hanging the river and our bar keep said the cat fish also like the berries and will hang out under the trees <br />
waiting for small fallen treats. By 9:00 pm we didn't see Miss Chicago nor Texas Toothpick so maybe they rode off into the sunset.<br />
<br />
5/8/12 This morning we woke to clear skies and a trail that was very well maintained. Within a few miles we would be approaching the state capital of Missouri, Jefferson City. We had planned on stopping in this town anyway and <br />
with me getting a flat tire just out side of town it made it a given. I knew my rear tire was worn and I was trying to strech a few more miles out of the rubber but it was so worn a small sharp object went through it a lot easier than if I had a heavy tread. At the trailhead we meet the group from Colorado. They had stayed in the capital in a soft cozy bed while we slept on the ground, but ours was free. The trail going into the city was very well marked and we had no trouble. The state of Missouri has poured mucho dinero into this whole trail system, I have never seen anything like it. <br />
The ramps going up to the major highway bridge across the Missouri cost the city more than 6 million smackers.<br />
<br />
We found out where the bike shop was and we also noticed the lack of cars on the road for any city of this size. Jefferson City only has 40,000 people compared to Denver's 3 million. We rode to the shop and was met by the most easy going bike shop owner. After buying a new tire and tube they told me to use their equipment yo install the tire. Then they pointed out a fab Greek Restaurant for lunch. After lunch we spent several hours touring the capital building with its' museums.<br />
Then we were back to the trail and our next stop at Portland, but not in Oregon, this is a tad smaller like 20 people and 6 dogs. I rode into the first stop and a couple were lying on the bench trying to get enough strength to carry on. I asked them if they had seen a sign for Riverside RV? "Oh ya, just down the river a mile or so." says the biker. Then she turned her head as she lay on the bench and looked up the steep hill and she spied a small sign that said RV park. There was a small building like 6 foot by 6 foot and 3 picnic tables, but not a soul in sight. I rode my bike up to a bar and opened the door and was met with a cloud of cigarette smoke. I should have mentioned that there isn't a large tax on coffin nails here so why not smoke yourself silly with a pack of Camels. Every store, restaurant, bar and bathroom we went in smelled like smoke, maybe the same chain smoker is following us. Anyway I asked the bar keep and she said go down to the white house with the dogs. I rode down to the white house, there are only 6 houses in town and they are all white with dogs. I tried to walk up to the door only to find that half of the porch decking was rotten.<br />
Small trees were growing between the spaces where boards should be. I heard someone inside yell out to come to the side door, that's the only safe one. I found out that I was at the wrong white house with dogs."You need to go to Dave's house to pay for the camping, but don't go through his yard his dogs are a crazy!" says the hill billy, as his dogs are trying everything to get out of their chains to taste a Yankee biker. I walked all the way around Dave's yard so I wouldn't become dinner for these canines and stopped at the gate and yelled for Dave. Then I noticed Dave's white truck in fornt of his garage and opened the door and layed on the horn which only excited the dog patrol even more. I was thinking he probably uses this to signal chow time. I finally quit and biked back to the campsite and then Mike showed up.<br />
<br />
As we set up camp the fellow from the movie Deliverance showed up minus the banjo. He had all kinds <br />
of questions for Mike as I tried to avoid eye contact. We found out Young Dave takes care of this RV park, not the old Dave, but they both have white houses. Mrs old Dave showed up driving a golf cart and explained all the rules, don't leave the shower room unlocked when you leave, don't squeal like a pig, that went out in the 90's. Then as soon as she left Deliverence boy showed back up and suggested we could us his camping equipment. "Come on up to the white house with the banjo music coming from it, if you need anything!" he said.<br />
<br />
Just when we thought it was safe to leave our campsite our next crazy showed up. I remember him from the bar scene earlier, when he was laying waste to Bud Lites, like he owned stock in the company. "I use to work on this river, as a tug boat captain!" he said as he burbed. "I use to remember every tight river crossing and every loose woman all the way to St. Louie!" he boosted. "But too many beer and too many years have passed me by!" he said. "I use to lay on the deck of my boat and look up at the sky and think of one thing and I want you to think of one thing." he explained. "How big would one cubic square mile of water be, just think of it!" drunken crazy man said. I thought it was going to be world peace!<br />
<br />
When it got dark Mike and I decided to walk up to the bar to see in person the breeding ground of these Missouri River loonies. A thick cloud of smoke from 20 cancer sticks filled our nostrils. Our ex river boat captain sat on the end bar stool with one hand on his beer and the other around the shoulder of his drinking body. I think they where holding each other up or maybe it was the thick smoke. Black and white pictures filled the walls and they showed the past history of this once vibrant river town. Now it was just a stopping place for bikers and beer soaked exriver men.<br />
<br />
5/9/12 After leaving Portland and all is colorful citizens we where headed to a old German town of Hermann. In the 1800's thousands of German settlers flocked to this area. It remained them of the Rhine River valley of home. At one time there was hundred of wineries and this place was one of the top producers of vino in the world. That all stopped during Probition and didn't start back up until 1970's. Now everybody that grows a few grape vines has a winery. There are countless German festivals during the year. Hermann has 65 B&B just so every German that visits, can have a place to lay their head.<br />
<br />
When the kind bike mechanic in Jefferson City tried to help by lifting my bike by the seat, he broke one of the supports on the bike seat, I know it wasn't my robust backside. So I found a bike shop to fix the seat and it was layed back just like the last one. The owner was laying on his bed in the back room when we walked into his store. Him and his dog live and breath at this store. There must of been 50 bikes all lined up in the store and there wass room for maybe 20. You couldn't swing a cat around without hitting a bike or a bike accessory. After fixing my bike we visited a large sausage making company that gave out free samples. The samples where in plastic bowls with sharp toothpicks beside them. I got real good at stabbing and filling up the whole length of that poor toothpick with sausage morsals. The sales lady must have experienced hungry bike riders before because we heard this low growl coming from the direction of the cash registor, and it was from the keys being punched. "I think we have sampled enough boys!" suggested the lady. Mike just moved over to the resident sausage maker that was showing off his craft of 5 different types of sausage. "Let me try that hickory,bacon combo one more time." said Mike. By the time we where both through sampling sausages all stocks had to be resupplies for the real customers. I did actually buy 5 packages of sausage for the price of 4, so maybe they came out even.<br />
<br />
I also bought a sausage sandwich which I ate for lunch after we got back on the trail. Little did I know that I would need the extra protein. As I rode towards the town of Gore I heard a pack of dogs come charging down a hill side towards me. I was already pedaling fast and at the sound of the hounds I poured on the steam even more so. A grey pit bull came up on the left side and tried to bite my foot. A well placed kick in the teeth slowed him down and I continued pedaling fast. This canines partner tried to attack me on my right side but he made the mistake of trying to run in front of the bike and coming up on my right side. I was pushing down hard on the pedals and my front wheel was whirling just inches from his tight furry skin. I wanted run over the middle of him with a passion but finnally he turned and went back to his farm.<br />
<br />
When I met up with Mike at Treloar he had a far different story to tell. He was just peddaling along enjoying the scenery when it seemed like his bike brakes suddenly came on. The two pit bulls had sunk their teeth into his rear bike packs and Mike turned around to see dust coming up from 8 dog feet digging into the dirt. Mike came to a complete stop and stepped off his bike the dogs charged but Mike held his ground and they turned for home after a few harrowing minutes on Mike's part.<br />
<br />
We rode into Marthasville our last campsite. A large ball field meet us on our right and this would be our resting stop. We called the grounds keeper and he gave us directions to the grassy camping spot. That night kids of all ages came to the field to play ball and it was fun to watch. One women group stayed until 9:00 pm and they where very good at ball playing. We all took showers in the ball field building "just Mike and I" -get you're mind out of the gutter!!.<br />
<br />
5/10/12 Last day on the Katy Trail for us and it will prove even better then before. Within minutes of biking out of Marthsville, we came to a sign pointing us to Daniel Boone's grave site. There isn't a baby boomer that hasn't grown up with Davie Crockett and Daniel Boone, so off we went. The scenery along this hard road was very pleasent with trees and green grass. The reason Mr. Boone settled here was because the Spainsh goverment gave him and his family thousands of acres, in order to get other familes to settle here. Then after the USA goverment purchased the land in the Lousaina purchase poor Dan had to fight to keep it from the feds. Within minutes I pulled up to a large red brick farm house set way back off the road and up above the road. I noticed a large white bearded fella stepping out of a truck and I rode my bike back to ask directions. I found out that we where near the grave but also his crew of 4 men where rebuilding one of Boone's relatives houses. A local fella had bought the property and was rebuilding a whole community with barns, school house and a 1700 log cabin all shipped down from Pennslvania. All the building where furnished with the period antiques. What a treat to be able to tour the buildings without anybody looking over our shoulders since Santa gave us permission have a look see. This job will take up to 10 years to finish but what they have done already is amazing. We also did find the grave site of Old Dan and we found out way he was buried here-HE'S DEAD- no actually they moved him and the Mrs many years ago to Kentucky they think or they might have moved the Boone's slaves bones by mistake.<br />
<br />
As we got closer to St Charles we started to see lot more day bikers. The town of Defiance had everything a biker might want or thinks they need. I biked into St Charles a few minutes before Mike and rode my bike to a local gas station to ask directions to the Super 8 motel and a real bed. It felt funny to be on a real road with a real surface. But we found the motel and relaxed for a few minute that is until we wanted to use a library computer and then we where back on our bikes for another hour.<br />
<br />
CONCLUSION The Katy Trail and the Missouri State park system is the greatest and I will be back. Mike and I spent $20.00 each for camping for the 6 days and we had hot showers for all but 2. The history of the Lewis and Clark along the trail combined with the friendly country folk, like I said I'll be back.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />vince vogelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09409914685847755131noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-113513403868397494.post-87741303704861577362012-04-22T13:13:00.000-07:002014-02-07T13:58:10.482-08:00Western Tour 2012`````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````Players in this adventure from USA Vince/from Italy /Biogio & wife/Piero & Alessandra/Cabrini & wife/ Giorgio/Carmelo/Antonio/Gianni/Santino/ from Scotland Keith.<br />
<br />
Basic outline of travel from Denver Colorado to Victoria BC and hopefully back!<br />
Rent a 15 passenger van $4000.00 plus gas $1,500.00 * VAN CAN NOT GO INTO CANADA<br />
______________________________________________________<br />
Sept 5th 2012 All parties fly into Denver International Airport DIA British Airways #219-6:45 pm<br />
Sept 5-6th All guests stay with friends in Denver $00 and get over jet lag and see the Denver area-Red Rocks-Boulder-Mt Evans<br />
______________________________________________________<br />
#1-Sept 7-8 Estes park<br />
stay at Estes park Hostel 970-237-0152 Terry<br />
Cost $684.00<br />
Activities Hiking Rocky Mountain National Park-shop Estes Park<br />
_____________________________________________________<br />
#2-Sept 9th Steamboat Springs Colo<br />
stay Iron Horse Inn<br />
cost $405.00 code 87361186<br />
Act. hot springs hiking<br />
____________________________________________<br />
#3-Sept 10th Rock Spring Wyoming<br />
stay Days Inn<br />
Rock Spring Wy<br />
1-307-362-5646<br />
Code 52821683<br />
cost $256.00<br />
Act. Dinosaur National Monument<br />
________________________________________<br />
#4-Sept 11-12 Jackson Hole Wy.<br />
stay The Hostel<br />
3315 Village Dr.<br />
307-733-3415<br />
cost 408.00<br />
Act. Hike Grand Teton National Park-Granite Creek hot Sprngs<br />
________________________________________<br />
#5-Sept 13-14 West Yellowstone Idaho<br />
stay Yellowstone Under Canvas<br />
cost $862.00 Code 1406219<br />
1-406-219-0441<br />
act. Hike Yellostone NP<br />
___________________________________<br />
# 6-Sept 15-16-17 Kalispell-Glacier NP<br />
stay Motel 6 <br />
cost $972.00<br />
1540 US 93 S<br />
Ph 406-752-6355<br />
code mo29001016<br />
act. Hike Glacier NP <br />
______________________________<br />
#7-Sept 18 Spokane Wa<br />
stay Ramada Inn<br />
905 N. Sullivan Rd<br />
1-509-924-3838<br />
Code 62181487<br />
cost $234.00 <br />
act Driving to Seattle sight see<br />
___________<br />
#8-Sept 19-20 Mt Rainer NP<br />
stay Tall Timber<br />
10023 HW 12<br />
360-497-2991<br />
cost $592.00<br />
act hike area<br />
_____________________________<br />
#9-Sept 21-22 Seattle<br />
City Hostel<br />
2327 2nd Av<br />
1-206-706-3255-<br />
code 2408926191503-27395<br />
stay hostel <br />
cost $784.00<br />
act. shop<br />
__________________________<br />
#10-Sept 23 Port Angeles Wa<br />
stay Super 8<br />
2104 E 1 st<br />
1-360-452-8401<br />
cost $258.00<br />
act catch ferry to Victoria Canada/ leave van in USA<br />
ferry $442.00 both ways<br />
__________________________<br />
#11-Sept 24-25 Victoria BC<br />
stay Ocean Island Inn<br />
791 Pandoria<br />
1-250-385-1785<br />
cost $802.00<br />
act sight see Bucher Gardens-musuems<br />
____________________________<br />
#12-Sept 26-27 Ferry back to USA <br />
stay Super 8 same as above<br />
cost $517.00<br />
act. hike Olympic NP<br />
__________________________<br />
#13-Sept 28-29 Forks<br />
stay Pacific Inn Motel<br />
352 S Fork Ave<br />
360-374-9400<br />
cost $929.00<br />
act Hoh Rain Forest<br />
__________________________<br />
#14-Sept 30 Astoria Oregon<br />
stay Lamplighter Motel<br />
503-325-4051<br />
cost $363.00<br />
act. Sight See<br />
________________________<br />
#15-Oct 1 Crescent City Cali<br />
stay Econo Lodge<br />
725 US Hw 101<br />
707-464-6106<br />
cost $330.00<br />
act Red Wood forest<br />
_______________________<br />
#16-Oct 2-3-4 San Francisco Cal<br />
stay Hostel Downtown<br />
312 Mason St.<br />
415-863-4490<br />
cost $1,520.00<br />
act Visit the city by the bay<br />
_______________________<br />
#17-Oct 5-6 Yosmite NP Cali.<br />
stay Merced Travellodge<br />
1260 Yosmite Parkway<br />
1209-722-6224<br />
code 22417 <br />
cost $598.40.00<br />
act. hike around Yosmite<br />
_________________________<br />
#18-Oct 7-Reno Nevada<br />
Days Inn<br />
cost $640.00<br />
act. driving to Denver and picking up extra wives from Mormons<br />
________________________ <br />
#19-Oct 8 Salt lake City<br />
Days Inn<br />
cost $620.00<br />
_______________________<br />
Oct9-10 Denver<br />
Fly and cry<br />
<br />
ESTIMATED TOTAL COST $17,77200.00 + food $8,228-36 days= $26,000 divided by 13 people $2,000.00 = $55.55 Per Day <br />
<br />
<br />vince vogelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09409914685847755131noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-113513403868397494.post-12479491409094305222012-03-16T16:20:00.023-07:002014-02-07T14:00:02.780-08:00Kokopelli Trail 2012April 9th 2012: It's the day after Easter, and with chocolate still on our breath and dyed egg stains on our hands, we all start the drive to Fruita, Colorado. Jerry M. is going to be driving Dave C. and me to the campground. Jerry was still in the process of putting the final touches on a homemade bike rack on the roof of his van as Dave and I loaded it with camping gear and water containers. Jerry's invention looked like it would hold all three mountain bikes, even though all the material came from scrap pieces and parts.<br />
<br />
By 9:00am the three muskateers were in Jerry's van heading west on I-70. Dave and I took turns pondering and relooking at the map for the Kokopelli Trail that travels 150 miles from Fruita to Moab. The trail uses old jeep tracks, 4x4 roads, single tracks,( "single track" means some blind adventurer cut in a trail, many moons ago.) After lunch we passed a state camp ground named James B Robb, just as the name on our camp area 40 miles west of here. Within a hour we pulled into the second James B Robb camp ground. The young lady running the front desk couldn't find our reservation and had to call in to her boss for a total appraisal of the situation. Come to find out Ranger Rick, who processed our reservation did it for the camp ground we passed 40 miles back. With a little begging and crying he let us stay here.<br />
<br />
We were unloading our gear when a truck pulled up and it looked like Terry and Tim, but they were supposed to be with Guy in his Subaru. Turns out the Subbie couldn't hold all the gear for three fellas, so they split the gear. Within a few minutes Charlene and Patrick drove up in their vehicle and all was right with the world as Guy drove up in the Subbi.<br />
<br />
After setting up our tents we had a few beers and talked about the up coming week. Terry, Dave, Tim and I would drive to the campground tommorrow at Rabbit Valley. We would then drop our gear at the camp sites and start to mountain bike towards Jerry, Guy, Patrick and Charlene who would be biking west. <br />
<br />
Right now it was time for a Mexican meal which sounded "REAL GOOD!" <br />
<br />
April 10th Did I forget to mention the weather on the western slope of Colorado, it can be a tad warm, like in the 80's which isn't bad if you're pool side with a drink and a umbrella in hand. When you are mountain biking and your helmet is turning your head into a hard boiled egg, it's not good. All of us wanted to get on the dusty trail early, so as not to be turned into barbecue on a bike seat. So I got everybody going around 5:00am which I knew wouldn't make me Mr. Popularity at that instant but the group would thank me later, I hoped!<br />
<br />
My group which we called ourselves the Preparation H's and our motto thank you very much is "preparation H works so good, you wish you had hemorrhoids!" started our drive to Rabbit Valley. Jerry's group the "Koko Creme Puffs" their motto could be,"it only looks like cream!" would start biking from the Fruita Kokopelli Trailhead.<br />
<br />
By 9:00 am we had secured our campsites at Rabbit Valley and were ready to head out on our mountain bike riding adventure. This part of the country is desert with all the elements that make up a desert.There were low bushes covered with thorns to keep critters and bikers from molesting them. Lots of sharp rocks litered the trail and yucca plants also called Spanish Bayonet were everywhere. Come on, just from the plant's name, I don't have to tell you about critters and bikers do I!<br />
<br />
The first couple of miles were along a 2 wheel drive road and it was heaven. We biked along side the I-70 interstate, so it wasn't like we were going to get lost, not yet any way. Off to the south we could see the mighty Colorado River working it's way down to Old Mexico. We rode our bikes on a side road to Salt Creek overlook and we could see a couple of rafters slowly coasting with the rivers currents. The Salt Creek joined the Colorado at a dog leg bend in the river. We could also see to the east, this steep single track trail leading down to the Salt Creek drainage. It must have been just a mountain goat trail or maybe a crazy miner looking for his fortune and cut in the this path, it couldn't be ours! Within a half hour our 2 wheel drive road stopped at someone's sick idea of a path. <br />
<br />
I don't know who I felt more sorry for my brakes smoking or my butt pounding on the bike seat, as we slowly followed this rock filled roller coaster path down to the Salt Creek. Our group stopped at a rock formation that would temporarily curtail our bike riding, and here we would have our first lunch. It was a good place to stop since we would have to carry our bikes for this next section.<br />
<br />
After eating lunch we carried on, which means we did carry the bikes on our backs. Then the Salt valley opened up to a sandy trail and a little more of a narrow rocky trail down to a wooden bridge across the creek. I thought, isn't this nice someone has taken the time and money to make our travels a little more easy. The bridge was 50 feet long with a set of wooden poles set into the ground close enough together to keep any motorized vehicle from crossing the bridge. Of all the posts I have biked through I have never seen post set so close togethor that the bike pedals just clear by inches, in fact I didn't see the posts. I was cruising along going about 10 mph, probably whistling a little tune. When disaster struck, my right pedal hit the solid pole and my left pedal came swinging up so hard it tore my sock off from my shoe up. Any skin that was on my left shin before the accident is now part of the bike pedal. Then to add insult to injury I flew off my bike into one of those sharp bushes I was talking about earlier. Anybody for thorns under the cuticle and finger nails! Lovely, understanding Terry thought it was the funniest thing he had ever seen, I think later for grins and fun he would sit around and tear wings off of butterflies<br />
<br />
<br />
After pulling myself out of the bushes we could hear Tim yelling from up above that he had found a fellow rider and we were on the right trail. This next part of the trail was so steep we had to carry our bikes up a 60 degrees hill covered with slippery rocks. I was in the lead so Terry would have a full view for his entertainment, if I splattered on the rocks below after loosing my balance. I didn't let him down, only this time it was just my bike. As I pushed it up the rock I lost hold of the hand brake and down the bike went, luckly without me attached. I could hear the sound of brand new paint being ground off my bike as it bounced off every possible rock in the path. This time Terry almost wet his pants laughing and I was so glad to be of some entertainment value, since my bike was loosing its' worth.<br />
<br />
Within 30 minutes we found our Koko Cream Puffers, and after looking at and studying the map, we were making great time but lost. The Cream Puffers noticed blood running down my leg, from the close encounter with the post. Patrick mentioned that I wasn't the lone ranger for he had flown off his bike and smashed his shoulder into the rock. Just like some country western song "we should have turned right and we turned left." What was funny, the Cremer's had done the same thing, so we traveled on the wrong trail together. We explained to them what was up ahead on the trail and we made the decision to cut down to the 2 wheel drive road and take it to the trail head. Tim's and my bike were acting up in the shifting of the gears department.<br />
<br />
We found the cars left for us and drove to Fruita for bike repair and pizza. We got excellent service at the bike shop and a better deal at the pizza shop. By 5:00 pm we pulled back into the Rabbit Valley camping area and passed out pizza and beer. <br />
<br />
We sat around a fire pit and told stories of the Kokopelli trail and what lessons we had learned so far, after biking 20 miles. Peter, the contractor from Carbondale Colo, and his wife were our hosts. Peter didn't have much work due of the big bad economy, so he figured it would be a great time to come sit in the desert and stare into a fire. In the past he had built large homes for larger than life clients, or who think they are. I told the story of my travels around Olympic National Park,and when I stopped in a small seaside town. The one and only industry was boat building. One morning I was hanging around the docks like the water rat that I am, when a pipe smoking gentleman stopped by the dock piling that I was leaning against. He told the story of a very famous client that they had built a sailboat for. Johnny Carson had walked into his office, with his face covered with sunglasses and a low riding hat. Johnny explained that he wanted a custom boat built but if any employee let it be known to the public that the old Tonight Show host had commissioned the boat the whole deal was off. The next morning my new found friend called all of his young employees into his office and related Johnny's deal. All the employees huddled together talking and looked their worried boss in the eyes and said, "who in the hell is Johnny Carson?"<br />
<br />
April 11th: Patrick, possibly being the smartest bike rider within 100 miles decided not to ride today after yesterday's adventure of becoming a Flying Walenda and landing on some sharp rocks. Patrick would drive Terry's truck to Fish Ford, our next campsite, 36 dusty miles a way. After loading all of our gear into the vehicles. all of us were ready to take on the next section of the trail. <br />
<br />
We had hit some soft sand yesterday but within an hour of today adventure we were chain deep in super soft sand. The sand seemed to enjoy grabbing our tires and watching us sweat our way through the obstacles. All 7 of us had our own way of dealing with the sand traps, some would pedal on with their leg muscles almost breaking through their biking pants, some would get off their bikes and push, but almost all the activity was orchestrated with colorful language, that one might hear coming from drunken sailors.<br />
<br />
The surrounding desert landscape was decorated with large sand stone boulders that looked like a giant had placed them just for our enjoyment. The large boulders took on the shapes of any thing our imagination could <br />
envision. The four wheel drive road led us closer to a large mesa that would be our lunch spot. After pushing our <br />
bikes for close to 1/8 mile,due to the steepness of the road, we walked into a cedar tree covered landscape. We<br />
rode our bikes to a flat rocky overlook and it was chow time.<br />
<br />
After a relaxing lunch in the shade and a bit of sitting in the shade it was time to bike towards Fish Ford. The <br />
sun was getting a tad bit warm, but perfect for a 3 foot long snake that slithered across the bike path at break <br />
snake speed.<br />
We all made good time coming off the mesa as we bounced along the rocky sandy trail. Dave and I had been riding together for about a hour when we came to a small stream. Now how do you cross a stream on a bike when you don't<br />
know its' depth. I thought, why not take my shoes off and carry each bike across, that way I cool off and keep the bikes safe. As Dave found a spot to jump across I slowly walked up and down the stream, it felt so good.<br />
A storm was predicted for the Moab area on Thursday and the black clouds in the skies to the west looked like something was brewing ahead of us. I rode up onto a black top road as a strong head wind almost knocked me off my bike. I had it in the lowest gear to get pedaling. Within a few minutes Terry and Tim drove up with Terry's truck <br />
that Patrick had driven over. They had found the campsite, picked up water and had thankfully driven back in case <br />
anybody needed a ride. I carried on but Guy and Jerry needed bike repairs and water, so they jumped in the truck.<br />
Charlene and Dave continued on fighting the wind and sand. <br />
I found the campsite and started to spread our gear out under the swaying cottonwood trees. With each passing hour the winds picked up. A fellow biker named Matt joined us in our campsite. A few days ago he had driven ahead and buried water and food, since he was self supported. <br />
Within a few hours everybody was in except for Dave, he had missed the camp ground turn off and we spent a few<br />
hours looking for our wandering biker. After a gourmet dinner of hot dogs and beans, which Dave and I provided since we where taking turns with furnishing meals, and it was our turn to show off our skills.<br />
As the sun got lower in the sky the wind picked up to tornado speed. The Koko Creme Puffers were camped on the east side of the campsite and the wind and the red sand would block our view of them. We had to move Terry and Matt's tents because the wind was trying to send them back to Denver. Everybody had their eyes on the big old Cottonwood trees and we all expected to hear a crack and see a tree come crashing into our tents.<br />
<br />
<br />
April 12th: After surviving a Lawrence of Arabia type sand dust storm during the night our group got ready for<br />
another day of biking. The Koko Cremers decided to skip out for this part of the trail, so the idea of driving the vehicles to the Dewey Bridge campground and sitting in a lawn chair and watch tumble weeds tumble by seemed better then getting their faces sand blasted.<br />
<br />
The Prep H's biked back to the trail head and followed a 4 wheel drive road. Then the path turned to single track <br />
with lots of obstacle in the way of sharp rocks to shorten our adventure. We could see the Colorado River below us and the trail lead us down to the water's edge. Heavy bushes growing out of the rivers banks made for a interesting ride because of their low laying branches. Tim was wearing a back pack with his supplies securely fastened around his arms. A particularly low growing branch grabbed hold of Tim's back pack and stopped Tim dead in his tracks but his bike kept going without him. Luckily I made it through this obstacle course with out getting any more skin torn off of my limbs.<br />
<br />
Our course lead us to a black top road and one of the main roads to Moab. The weather was getting darker in the west and the skies in the same direction looked like sweeping rain showers were soon to follow. Tim had the great suggestion of staying on the black top road and riding it to Dewey Bridge campground, instead of the dirt trail. It took all us Prep H's about 30 seconds to decide to high tail it to the campground and find a dry place to hide. Compared to our 5 mph speed on the Kokopelli trail we were doing light speed at 25 mph on the black top. As the rain started to pelt our bike helmets Terry's truck came into view. Everyone of us were looking through the windshield as the rain dropped formed mud balls on the trucks hood. That is everybody except Dave, again. Dave had<br />
biked towards the old Dewey Bridge thinking the camp ground was in that direction. After watching the storm retreat from our campground, we set up our tents. Within 30 minutes Dave came riding up on his bike with all the dust washed off in the rain. <br />
Tim's bike needed a little work to prevent it from being thrown off a cliff by a frustrated bike owner, so we <br />
decided to drive to Moab. The Prep H's drove into Moab and viewing the the Colorado River drainage kept us entertained as we looked out the truck windows.<br />
The smell of a curry dinner the Koko Creamers were fixing filled our noses as we drove back into our camp site.<br />
<br />
April 13th: We woke to a cloudy sky and maybe a few cloudier thoughts, with the idea of a possible muddy trail ahead of us if the rains came. The Koko's wanted to bike the trail, but after getting a ride to the mid point and biking back to camp,our group decided to drive to the Onion Road entrance. We then biked up the Onion Road until we came to the Kokopelli Trail, then we biked back to camp. As I always say "it all pays the same." <br />
We drove to the Onion Road and got ready to bike the 11 mile road with 1,200 ft. of gain. The monolithic structure known as Fisher Tower stood in the distnce as it has done for thousands of years. The road was hard packed sand and gravel, but it was heaven compared to the rocky single track we had been enduring for the last couple of days. As Tim and I biked over a small rise in the road we noticed a large bear standing in Onion Creek, which seemed odd,<br />
especially with a few brave folks standing around him taking pictures. Then I noticed it was a grizzly bear, which aren't found in Utah. Then we noticed the movie camera,and realized this was a trained bear and the movie people were filming The Lone Ranger. Lots of jeeps, bikes, and cars were rubber necking to get a glimpse of this large brown bear. The trainers were using marshmellows as a teaching aid for the bear, and it's the exact same thing Pam uses on me.<br />
<br />
The road crosses the Onion Creek 13 times as we biked along its' narrow canyon. Each water crossing had to be taken differently because of the depth of the water and the steepness of descent into the unknown. The surrounding red rocks decorated the distant valleys, which made for some beautiful biking.<br />
<br />
By noon we had reached the top mesa and everybody had a few bike issues, wafter going through water and then getting fine sand thrown on the bike chains. After lunch we worked on Terry's bike and straightened out a bent tooth on his chain sprocket. Dave's bike needed some adjustment on his derailer. All the time the skies kept <br />
getting darker with rain in the distance. Tim and Dave wisely decided to head back to the car. Terry and I decided to bike down to the Kokepelli Trail and bike into the Dewey Campground.<br />
<br />
When Terry and I got to where the trailhead should be a group of campers were having a picnic and we thought this must be a picnic area and biked on. Within a few minutes we saw a Kokopelli Trail sign and there was a few mountain bikers hanging around the sign. We talked with them and made sure this was the Koko trail and biked on. We biked for about 10 miles with a gain of 1200 feet and then we came to a group of back country jeepers, who didn't have a clue where they were. We biked on until we came to a national forest sign and I got out my map. We had been making great time but going in the wrong direction, we were headed to Moab.<br />
<br />
Terry and I knew what we had to do, bike back to the black top road and then bike back to the campground. Luckly it was mostly down hill for many miles but we had 13 more creek crossings ahead of us. Since we were going down hill <br />
we hit the water crossing going about 20 mph and as a result the water flew up on top of bike and rider. <br />
<br />
By 5:00 pm we had made it back to the black top and started to bike back to camp. Within a few minutes I could hear a truck rumbling up from behind me. Tim and Dave had driven into Moab for supplies and were on the way home, what a sight for sore eyes and butts. Terry decided to keep on biking to camp for the last 4 miles.<br />
<br />
Guy and Terry fixed this night's meal and the stew had pieces of tender pork that were the size of my helmet, or maybe I was just hungry.<br />
<br />
April 14th: With the thoughts of Slick Rock campground in Moab on our minds, we loaded the vehicles and drove into town. At the campground,we were met with warm showers and a hot tub that seemed too good to be true. These would boil the red dirt and grim out of our pores. After crossing the Onion Creek 26 times, mud was caked on our bikes and I wished that there had been a hot tub to soak them as well. <br />
<br />
We set up our tents on a stormy morning and then drove to a bike shop to drop off Terry's bike for a total maintenance job. Out of the 8 mountain bikes on this trip, 6 of them required some sort of repair due to the rocky sandy condition of the trail.<br />
<br />
The Prep H's found our butts on a stool facing a short order cook, waiting for a much needed hamburger. Our cook, Mel, is a friend of Dave's and he is a master of the sizzling griddle. Mel is the poster cook for multi taskers with hamburgers, french fries and chili lined up on his work area.<br />
<br />
With our bellies full, my gang drove to Arches National Park for a bit of exploring without a bicycle seat under our seat. Terry had never been in this part of Utah so everything was new for him, and for me with a mind being that of a curious youngster, the area offered much for both of us. After paying our entrance fee to the park, we stopped at the visitor's center to talk with a ranger about hikes in the park. With a map in our hands we headed to the Delicate Arch, its' picture is on the Utah license plate. Our gravel trail turned onto a solid rock journey <br />
<br />
that was covered with other hikers. The line of tourists ahead of us looked like a long caterpillar working its' way up a red leaf.<br />
<br />
Later we explored a monolithic rock formation that was honey combed with red rock in shapes of flat irons. After hours of climbing around this mumbo jumbo of rounded rocks, we headed back to Moab. We ended our trip in Moab taking in an art festival being held there. <br />
<br />
The trip cost a grand total of $432.00 and when we divide that by 8 people for 6 days that's $9.00 per day!!<br />
<br />
<br />vince vogelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09409914685847755131noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-113513403868397494.post-26539721180855389862012-02-25T15:56:00.013-08:002014-02-07T14:00:02.789-08:0010 days hiking in the Grand CanyonFeb 11th 2012 After more than just a few months of planning, all the players taking part in the adventure before us were ready. My fellow hikers are Mike L. Paul V.(Cuz) Dave G (Uncle Dave) Dave C and myself. We all assembled at my house to celebrate my wife's retirement of 42 years as a medical technologist. Valentine's Day, Pam's birthday and Mardi Gras were all wrapped up into one party, since I would be deep in the Grand canyon for 10 days and unable to be there for all of them. Mike drove down from South Dakota, Uncle Dave and Dave C. live locally. My Cuz had to fly in from Oregon. After eating our fill of shrimp gumbo and loading up the poor Subaru with back packs that made the vehicle resemble the Beverly Hillbilles, we headed to the airport to pick up Cuz.<br /><br /> By 9:00pm we drove into the parking lot of El Palomino Motel in Grand Junction. It would be our first stop on the 14 hour 700 mile trip to the rim of the Grand Canyon. After unloading the car we arranged our back packs and extra food that would be carried down by mule to Phantom Ranch, located at the bottom of the canyon. The rooms are just $50.00 and not far off the I-70 interstate. If you're wondering about the mule, we didn't bring our own steed, the park service wranglers handle the critters. Since we would be down in the canyon for 10 days we divided our food so that we would only have to carry 3 days worth of food until we connected with the food already brought down to Phantom Ranch. Doing it this way saves on a lot of weight, "Momma didn't raise no fool!"<br /><br /> Feb 12th We had a very visual journey through the country side of the four corners area of Colorado, Utah, Arizona, and New Mexico. By 3:00 pm we arrived at the Grand View trail head along with a snow storm. Uncle Dave was experiencing foot problems which only seemed to get worse the deeper the snow built up on our back packs, so he decided to skip the first three days of hiking with us and meet us at Phantom Ranch with Dave C. on Feb 15th.<br /><br /> I decided to try the descending snow covered trail without steel cleats on the bottom of my boots. Faster then you could say flat on your back,there I was. I should have known since this is one of the most dangerous trails in the Grand Canyon at this time of year. All of us took off our packs and wisely attached some type of steel cleat to the bottom of our hiking boots. A few inches of new snow covered the glare ice trail, which made for a beautiful an also a dangerous scene. Cuz and Mike both have a fear of heights and this trip was either going to cure or kill which became apparent within a few minutes. If we would lost our balance, the steep drop off along the trail in most cases, would lead to an instant death after whistling through the air for a few hundred feet. I told Mike there are 100 ways to die in the Grand canyon and after an hour we passed 50 of them!<br /><br /> I was slowly working my way along the snowy trail with steel cleats and two hiking poles when my feet kicked out from under me. I landed on my buttocks with my legs straight out in front of me. Within seconds I turned into a human toboggan and slid down to the edge of the trail. I stopped with my legs dangling over the sharp edge,and I might say, a great view of the of the valley below. This all happened within a hour of starting our hike.<br /><br /> By 4:30 pm our group walked 4.5 miles onto the Horseshoe Mesa, the place we were to camp for the night. An old copper mine was on the hill above our camp with plenty of minerals to inspect after dinner.<br /><br /> Feb 13th: We had set our camp up behind small brush that dotted the landscape,and would act as a wind block during the night. It was needed, for during the night a gust of wind came ripping out of the valley below. We had descended about a 1000 feet below the rim with another 3000 feet to go before we reached the Colorado River. As the sun rose above the canyon the bright light rays made the red rocks of the thousands of canyons below us come alive. Teddy Roosevelt had it right when he said, "Don't try and change the canyon, we can't improve it!" I have been in the canyon 10 times and each time I forget about the beauty and the many dangers of the world below the rim. Every plant and rock seems to have sharp thorns or edges. The hundreds of narrow trails have life ending drop off points. But the area just keeps drawing me back for another look to, maybe the same spot but each time the angle of the sun light is different.<br /><br /> To the east of us lay a large drainage named Page Spring that held the only water source in that direction. The spring was 700 feet below Horse Shoe Mesa and lucky for us we had brought enough water so we wouldn't have to climb down and then back up its' nose bleed path. After eating breakfast and dropping our packs along the Cottonwood trail head we headed towards the old copper mine. Every color of mineral lay on the ground with some of it looking like it had fallen from Mars. Blue turquoise, usually associated with copper was attached to many rock crevices. Uranium deposits according to a National Park sign was also present, which made me wonder if we were going to wake up the next day glowing or with a stiffy or both.<br /><br /> After searching the area and visiting many spots where miners had lived and I suppose died, we started our adventure to the far reaches of the Grand Canyon. The trail was steep leading down to Cottonwood Creek, but with the thought of cold water on our minds, we travelled onward. The creek had just enough water to easily fill our containers. Mike filled his container down stream from Cuz and I. I got Mike's attention when I mentioned as a joke that we where washing out our undies up stream from him. After leaving Cottonwodd trail we entered Tonto Trail east.<br /><br /> The trails in the canyon follow the thousands of drainages that dot the landscape. Each time we came out to a point we knew that it would usually lead back to a long forgotten washout. Some of the trails were within inches of a deep canyon with red rock walls hundreds of feet above the valleys below.<br /><br /> By 3:00 pm we reached our next camp site at Grape Creek after an 8 mile walk. We set up camp and then took a short hike up the drainage with polished marble rocks as our sidewalks. All our thighs where sore from yesterday's hike down the steep Grand View trail. After dinner it was hiker's midnight which translates to 8:00pm, and we hit the sleeping bags.<br /><br /> During the night I was awakened with blowing rain beating on my tent. I wondered what I was going to do if my tent blew away and I was exposed to the elements. The storm was having fun with our little shelters as it showed us who was boss in this drainage. Just when we thought the storm had moved off it came back with all its' power. By dawn it had blown itself out and we woke up to wet tents, but they were in one piece anyway.<br /><br /> Feb 14th This morning we got our first view of the mighty Colorado River a thousand feet below our path. I know from my 2006 trip in the canyon and along this same route that water would be scarce. Our camp site would be Cremation Creek, except there wouldn't be any water,maybe another name could be Damnation. We would have to pickup and carry water from Lone Tree canyon and carry it to our camp. The weather was cool but it was perfect for hiking with some gusty winds. We met a few couples along the way that informed us that water was available at Lone Tree. <br /><br /> By 3:00pm we hiked onto a mesa above Cremation after 8 miles and found some flat spot to set up our shelters. The views were grand but we would be open to any bad weather with no bush or tree in sight. After dinner we did some exploring and followed a herd of deer, as they made their evening rounds looking for green grass. Good luck with that! That evening the clouds had cleared and we sat around talking and enjoying a thousand stars in the sky.<br /><br /> Feb 15th: So much for clear skies but the temperature was still mild compared to the temps on the rim. A large storm was raging in a far canyon and it was delightful to watch it evolve. Large curtains of rain and snow was swiping back and forth in the distance.<br /><br /> Our hike of 8 miles would be fairly easy today with Phantom Ranch as our final destination. Uncle Dave and Dave C. would meet us at the ranch for a three day layover. Uncle Dave had dropped off our extra food with the mule wrangler at the South Rim and mule wrangler would carry it all down South Kaibab trail.<br /><br /> By 10:00am we walked into the intersection of Tonto and South Kaibab trail. A seasonal worker was cleaning out the priveys and we stopped and talked to this very cheerful woman. We were all talking about the work in the park since Mike had worked for the forest service for 35 years. Come to find out this girl was Cuz's nephew's room mate in Wyoming.<br /><br /> Within a hour we were standing above the Colorado River and could see rafters paddling towards the beach at Phantom Ranch. A tunnel bored through the mountain leading us onto the steel bridge above the river. The bridge's 550 foot cables had to be carried down the trail by Indians when it was built in the 1960's. I bet that was a sight!<br /><br /> We planned on eating lunch on the beautiful sunny beach below the ranch along with the rafters. We had lunch and cold beer in our hands, thanks to our new found friends within minutes of sitting on the beach. The rafters had miscalculated a critical rapid above the ranch and had flipped there rafts into the cold water. A rafter from Louisiana was soaked and shaking and headed towards the ranch where warm food and coffee was waiting. This group had been riding the Colorado River from Lee's Ferry and had been having a great time. One guide had done this same trip 81 times.<br /><br /> After lunch we walked towards the campground and found the same spot where I usually camp. After settling in and walking up to the ranch for some hot chocolate, we also picked up our food bag. A little history about the Phantom Ranch. It was a working ranch at one time and Teddy Roosevelt stayed here. The water for the cattle at that time and our water today comes from the Bright Angel Creek that travels down the canyon. The name Phantom comes from the name of a creek that connects to Bright Angel Creek and seems to come out of no where.<br /><br /> As we walked towards the beach the two Dave's appeared and we had an exchnage of stories. We continued back to the steel bridge and did some exploring along the river. Dave C. had bought all his meals at the ranch so the rest of us ate our carried food. Then at 8:00 pm the ranch is open for $4.75 beers and free conversation with fellow hikers. Some guests had walked down and were staying at the cabins, dorms and camping. Some had rode mules down and were staying at cabins. There was a major storm on the top of the rim, when we were fighting the winds and rain two days before and because of that, Uncle Dave told us that many people had cancelled their trip down to Phantom Ranch, which was too bad since the weather was great now.<br /><br />Feb 16th We woke to clear skies-Praise the Lord and pass the granola!! We would all head up Bright Angel creek trail towards the North Rim. The twisting and turning path would lead us through the narrow canyon that had been formed by the creek. Every turn in the path gave us new discoveries to ponder with the sun shining at different angles. The solid granite walls had a shiney polished look due to thousands of years of water screaming down after major thunderstorms high up in the canyon. <br /><br /> By lunch time we had made Ribbon Falls and what a sight it was. I have seen the falls many times before but each time it is like a new thrill. The falls are maybe 50 feet tall with some sort of mineral in the water that encourages the growth of moss, for the whole kit and kabutal is covered with a vibrate green moss. <br /><br /> After eating our lunch we had heard about the upper Ribbon Falls with cliff dwellings from the Anasazi that lived in the region thousands of years ago. We followed the trail and after an hour of walking we found the falls and ruins. The ruins were stone warehouses for the Indians to store corn in. The cool vapor off the falls was very refreshing after hiking in the heat of the afternoon. <br /><br /> I had the bright idea of getting back to Phantom Ranch before it closed for dinner at 4:00 pm and grabbing something tall and cool to drink, so I almost ran. I arrived at 4:03 pm, so close yet no drinks for this sweaty hiker.<br /><br />Feb 17th: We had a 15 mile hiking day planned for the 18th so today we would kind of kick back and enjoy the Bright Angel campground and beach. It was nice talking with different hikers and Uncle Dave met someone he knew from home.<br /><br /> Feb 18th: Today Mike, Cuz and myself would hike 15 miles to Monument camping area. Uncle Dave was going to stop at Indian Gardens and camp. Dave C. would walk up to Bright Angel Trailhead. <br /><br /> By 10:00 am we all walked into Indian Gardens and had a break with food and water. An older hiker was trying to impress his much younger wife by telling all of us he had walked this trail 11 times. I said, "12 times and you get a free set of steak knives!" Everybody thought it was funny, with his wife laughing the hardest except he didn't see the humor of it all. My group walked 10 miles towards Monument. The trail followed above the Colorado River. The weather held as we made our way through the small brush and cactus lined trail. By 4:00 pm we walked down into our camping area. From the heights above the drainage I could see a few tents scattered around the dry river bed. <br /><br /> The Presidents Day holiday was going to be on Monday so many more hikers were colliding with our trip. 22 boy scouts were camped all around our camping area. We met a few hikers that had their usual stories of problems along the trail. Some of them were probably true, as they see them. Hikers tales are like what Mark Twain said about statistics "You have liers, you have damn liers and you have statistics!" One of the biggest stories was the length of the last trail that would lead us out of the canyon, the Boucher Trail. Everybody and their dog thought we were out of our mind for walking out on a 12 mile trail that gained 4000 feet in elevation. "Man you are going to need two days to do that trail!" was the most common remark. Another total shocker for anybody we encountered was that we didn't filter our water. Our new critics would look at us like we didn't have a brain in our sun baked heads. I havn't filtered water for 20 years so I am used to the horror stories that are told. It always starts the same way, I have a friend, he didn't filter water and the rangers found his remains along the trail, they identified him through dental records! <br /><br />Feb 19th: We had a 10 mile hike to Boucher camping area, which went fairly well, except for a few windy rain storms. One of the major storms involved me covering my self and pack with a ground cover and umbrella. We all sat under a small rock overhang, for about 30 minutes.<br /><br /> By 4;00pm we all walked down into the canyon and quickly set up our tents before the rain started pelting us again. That night because of the rain, sleeping was the coldest.<br /><br />Feb 20th: We all walked down to the Boucher Rapids and had our lunch on a beach over looking the Colorado River. After lunch we walked back to our camp and met up with a college group from Illinois. The coed students were on a geology field trip, to examine new rock and each other. As our new neighbors set up their tents we hiked up the Boucher Creek to have a look see.<br /><br />Feb 21st: This was going to be the big walking day with 12 mile and 4000 feet of gain without water along the trail. We hiked up hill for a hour just to get on Boucher trail. The first part of the trail involved a hand over fist type of trail with almost a 60 degree slope, covered with loose rocks, then the trail planed out along a plateau.Next, the trail had a sharp increase in ascent. As we came around a corner we came upon a dead Desert Big Horn Sheep that had fallen off a cliff above us. After lunch we had mostly a level walk with the sun beating down on our bodies. The last mile was a trail covered with rocks arranged to make a stone walkway to heaven.<br /><br /> As we got closer to the top of Hermit Rest trailhead, Uncle Dave was sitting along side the trail.<br /><br />As Mike said the float trip on the Colorado River may be easier but walking along the Colordao River is the only way to really see the splenders of the canyon.<br /><br /> We all needed some R&R so lets drive south to Scottsdale Arizona and hang with the relatives. Plus the thought of warm sunny weather with our sore feet dangling in a heated pool sounded grand. The next morning we all headed to Camel Back Mtn and had a great hike to the top, with the scenery getting better at every foot of ascent.vince vogelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09409914685847755131noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-113513403868397494.post-84547856370737973152011-10-26T12:51:00.000-07:002014-02-07T14:00:02.849-08:00Flat Tops WildernessThe Flat Tops Wilderness is a area of Colorado that has been set aside for it's natural beauty and many lakes.<br /><br />Flat Tops Wilderness area back packing and fishing Sept 19th thru Sept 24th 2011<br />Players Vince Vogel-Mike Lloyd-Dave Christie<br /><br />Driving directions<br />I 70 west to Dotsero drive north on Colorado River road /at Derby Junction drive west on Derby Mesa Loop turn est on FS 610 Stump Road<br /><br /> Stump Road is very rought for the first 4.5 miles to Middle Derby trail head. I drove for 1.5 miles and walked the rest of the way. My truck is a 4 wheel drive with over 300,000 miles on the body, the truck not me. The thought of breaking down and paying a tow truck for help could also break the bank. There are more than enough places to pull off the dirt road on 610 and park<br /><br /> Sept 19th The three of us walked for the 3 miles towards the trail head. Within a hour we came to a fork in the road and we swithched onto the road to 612 on our left. the aspen trees where just beginning to turn a golden color in the valley along the Middle fork Derby Creek on our left.<br /><br /> Shortly after passing by 1858 trail head sign there was a well worn fork in the trail. One trail led along the irrigation ditch and the other one led due north. the three of us put our heads togethor and stared a hole in our trusty map. According to our interpretation the trail followed the canel. This level trail was very appealing to our slightly sore legs.; We where making great time but completely lost. Our first clue as to how lost we were came when we had to cross the creek. The trail according to our map should be on the right of the creek, but we stood on the left. After a half hour of scrambling across blown down trees and being pricked by sharp wild rose thorns we climbed up onto the right trail.<br /><br /> The trail was wide and well worn from hundred of outfitters horses using it during the hunting season. The trail crossed the creek several times with many different types of crossings. Some had logs thrown over the creek to form a temporary bridge. Every year after the spring run off all the bridges have to be rebuilt. One of the crossings was a fallen tree acting as a floating affair. every step on the tree kept the tops of our boots inches away from the freezing rushing water. When we stepped on the end of this temp bridge, the tree came up like a see saw as we jumped onto the far bank.<br /><br /> By 4:00 pm we came to a junction of the trail of 1842, which led to our goal of Island Lake. Time to look at the map again. The map told us to stay on our right but a major trail was staight ahead along the creek. Within a half hour the trail ended at a deserted outfitter's tent settlement. A large white tent that must have slept ten people stood on top of the small knoll. this well worn trail was formed by all the horse travel. Even though we had walked in the wrong direction it was great to see the smoky white tents along the valley.<br /><br /> The right trail lead us across the creek and then it climbed among some pine trees. The steady ascent led us closer to our goal, our camp site along the lake front. By 6:00 pm we found level ground along the lake. The lake sat in a bowl made up of grey mountains. Our leather boots were a bit wet from all the creek crossings, but dave's low cut boots where like solid blocks of ice created by the temperature dropping as the sun set. With the late hour of arrival we didn't have time to fish so the critters would juts have to wait until tommorrow morning.<br />Milage walked 12 miles- in 6 hours<br />Scenery/ followed creek with small water falls and mountains covered with golden aspens on both sides<br />Next time/ spend a extra day to fish Island lake and the lake above<br />Weather sunny warm in the afternoon/sunset temps dropped to 40-30 degrees<br /><br />Sept 20th We woke to a clear sky and the mist was just beginning to come off the lake as I cast my lure. Within 45 minutes I caught 10 Cut Throat Trout, life is good indeed! Mike also was having a good time casting dry flies out on the mill pond like lake.<br /><br /> Dave decided to go back to our vehicles and return to Denver, due to a few job obligations. Mike and I would continue on to Lost Lake along the Chinese Wall trail.<br /><br /> We climbed above the Island Lake on 1802 until the junction of 1803. Two more lakes stood above our campsite lake. The trail led us towards the picturesque Deer Lake down in the valley, but we wisely decided to walk along the ridge and stay up high. The lake looked very inviting way down below us and the next time it will be on our list of places to fish.<br /><br /> The Flat Tops lay ahead of us as we walked along the treeless tundra, to us it respresented what Mongolia might look like. I would hate to be caught in this area unprepared during a snow storm, as your body would be the only thing stopping the wind and snow, Lots of little lakes dotted the landscape.<br /><br /> Just before lunch we had to make a jog on the trail and walk on 1814 trail before we where back on 1803. As we sat down to eat our grub, the first hiker came towards us. Both Mike and I thought he had a carton of cigarettes under been the poster child for lite weight hikers everywhere. He wore canvas tennis shoes, a sweat shirt, shorts and a frayed straw hat. By the way the carton of smokes turned out to be a box of Little Debbie's Oatmeal cookies, the ones with the sugary white filling. "This is all I need!" as he stuck out the cookies and a small bottle of water in the other hand. The cookies did look to both of us, but if the weather turned bad we would be reading about this Cheese Head in the local papers. Frozen hiker found wrapped around a box of Little Debbie's, frozen fresh and full of flavor.<br /><br /> By afternoon the wind had picked up and it was pushing us around as our packs acted like sails. We stopped along the Chinese Wall and lokked down at McGinnis Lake. The trail towards the Chinese Wall must have been faint or we where tired beacause we missed the turnoff. With the Devil's Causeway ahead of us and the wind blowing us around it made for quite the crossing. The causeway trail is only 5 feet wide and there is a sheer drop off on either side. Mike is deathly afraid of heights and it was more than a little challenging for me and I have worked construction for 40 years. Mike got down on all fours and crept along the rocky shelf. As soon as I saw the 1119 trail coming up from Stillwater lake I knew we had missed the turnoff.<br /><br /> Time for a change of plans, why not walk to Causeway Lake instead of Lost Lake. The trail was decent and had lots of trees for us to get out of the wind. On this side of the mountains there were a lot more elk trails and sounds of bugling. By dinner time we had made it to lake and set up camp. The lake didn't have any fish jumping and we couldn't catch a fish no matter what we tried.<br />Distance walked 12 miles-6 hours<br />Scenery/Mongolia tundra on the Flat Tops/ overview of lakes in the valley/the Chinese Wall breathtaking/Chinese causeway one of a kind!!<br />Next time camp and fish Deer Lakes<br /><br />Sept 21st Woke to a bull elk bugling in the distance. I climbed up on the nearest knoll and sat down with a keen interest in finding the elk that where making all the noise. On the distant hillside I noticed 4 bull elk circling around each other with their antlers clicking together. After each sparing match the bulls would retreat to the aspen trees and the next set of elk would come out, I almost to hear a bell clang like at a boxing match. After all the dueling was done a large heard of cow elk came running through the boxing ring and all the males just dropped what they where doing and followed the girls.<br /><br /> We noticed on the map a lake that looked like it might be great for camping and fishing named Deep Lake. Our travels would take us past more then just a few lakes. We stopped at Round Lake to try our luck at fishing. The lake looked very inviting and I had a few trout give my lure the eye ball.<br /><br /> At East Long Lake we hiked to the south side of the lake. It looked to shallow for any kind of fishing from shore. As we turned to leave a bull elf bugled in the background not far from us. I gave my best imitation of a bull looking for a harem. For little over ten minutes I had that frustrated elk returning my calls and beating the snot out of a aspen tree with his antlers.<br /><br /> Even though a trail wasn't represented on our map we did find a trail on the west end of the Deep lake. By 3:00 pm we had set up camp and with much strut in our step we decided to try our fishing skills against the fish of Deep LAke. From 4:00 pm until 6:00 pm again we didn't even see Miss Paul's fish stick. After eating dinner we headed back to the lake and from 7;00 pm until we couldn't see the end of our fishing poles, we could do wrong. We caught 10 Brook Trout, but these puppies where between14 and 16 inhes and Mike caught on over 18 inches. The trout were spawning and their colors where beyound compare. Bright red bottoms, multi colored speckled sides and hooked mouths. The fish had the look of a Monet painting. We let all our fish go, as they were much too pretty to eat for us mortal men.<br />Milage walked 6 miles 3 hours<br />Scenery/ Round lake and Long LAke breath taking/looking up at the Chinese wall/ elk bugling<br />Next time/camp at Round lake/bring a elk call<br />Weather sunny during the day/ cold at night<br /><br />Sept 22nd Today we would walk towards Trapper Lake with he idea of maybe fishing this giant body of water. there are an equal amount of rules and regulations to go with the privilage. Flies only, barbless hooks, catch and release, instead of catch and grease!As we traveled down 1812 we met a fellow fisherman form Steamboat Springs. He comes to Mcginnis Lake every year to fish. This older gentleman informed us he enjoys flying over this area in his small plane to look down at th glittering lakes. He occasionally will see a group of elk hunters below him, scratching their heads, wondering the elk have vanished to, then observing that in the next valley are a large herd of elk just laying in the sun kicking back.<br /><br /> At the Skinny Fish trail head the trail meets a dirt service road. We had just stepped out of the woods when a truck pulled up with a couple of archery hunters wearing camouflage makeup. I waved to them and they swung their truck around and wanted to know if we wanted a ride. Mama didn't raise no fool, so off we went to the Outlet trail head.<br /><br /> At the trail head several more hunters were all standing around trying to figure out the elk locations. had a chat about the elk we had heard in te Lost Lake area. It was so remote if one of these Elmer Fudd's had shoot one they would have a large frying pan, to eat it on the spot. <br /><br /> Then it was on to our next campste, an hour above Trapper Lake. A grove of trees that had been spared by a forest fire was our temporary shelter. <br />Milage walked 10 miles- 5 hours<br />Scenery/ Some forest burn areas/Trapper Lake very nice/ distant mountains<br />Next time/ truck camp at Trapper lake with canoe and walk to Upper Trapper Lake<br /><br />Sept 23rd Awoke to clear skies and we had to hike up on the Flat Tops again. The views form the top were well worth the hike. The many lakes culd be seen in the distance, besides the ones along the trail. from 1816 we crossed over to 1817 W Mountain trail. This time the wind wasn't blowing and we couild see the bacl side of the mountain above Island Lake whre we had started. The high ridge above Cresecent Lake gave us a view of our next campsite. A trail snaked it's way down to the lake shore. A 4 wheel drive road came up to his lake and the ground was well used with crzies on ATV's. below the dam a SUV lay on it's top, a past visitor that didn't quite make the trip.<br /><br /> On the north side of the lake were some great camping spots with a view of the lake. After seting up camp we hit the lake with assorted lures and flies. By dinner time we didn't have anything to show for our efforts. After dinner we walked down to the dam. i walked back and forth along the dam trying every lure i had. A Tasmanian Devil orange in color produced a 24 inch lake trout. I laid Mr. tout on the grass and took his picture and then put my camera in my top paocket. When i reached over the lake to release my prize, my camera did a belly flop in the lake.<br />Mileage walked 10 miles 5 hours<br />Scenery/ great views of Trapper Lake and many smaller lakes/ the red mountains above Island Lake/creek drainages below<br />Next time/camp long lake above Trapper Lake<br />Weather perfect<br /><br />Sept 24th the next morning would be our last hike back to my truck. We followed the Crescent Lake Road 613 down along the South Derby Creek. We met a couple from Fort Collins that were truck camping and enjoying the fine weather. After crossing the South Derby Creek over a homemade bridge, we looked for a trail that would lead us to trail 1837. The trail wasn't to be found so we cut cross country and hen decided to alk along the irrigation ditch. At lunch time we found the 1837 trail and followed it along with a bear who had used the trail just prior to us, guessing from the bear signs we saw.<br /><br /> This time we were back in Middle Derby drainage and it was time to find a way over the high creek without putting on a swim suit. I made it across wearing my crocks and then threw them back to Mike to use. We then had to slowly work our way up to Stump Road. The climb was steep and the hill was south facing so it was a little warm to say the least. After a hour of climbing we made it back on the road we had come in on. A old truck came rumbling down the road and the couple riving were looking for the intersection of 610 and 612. I don't know who was more confused them or us. <br /><br /> Afer a few hours of walking we made it back to my truck. We had a great time and plan on coming back for many more fishing and hiking trips to the Flat Tops.<br />Mileage walked 12 miles 6 hours<br />Scenery Crescent Lake was great/ the aspens were turning<br />weather perfect the whole timevince vogelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09409914685847755131noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-113513403868397494.post-30192600976932197822011-07-09T15:22:00.000-07:002014-02-07T14:00:02.798-08:002011 The 500 mile Colorado Trail<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpVS9IvE5hyphenhyphenxa_r0wfm9KsJcrok8qUZRdT5C6Gnn99rqyRvKfE6xH1eG9-pgi_0M2E8DU0tx8MzaTXvxaB8-rqS5L4Id9IorGpENZY39_ih9Njqnkjne1QMw-GAOfqmQhoXRUwssB2oXA/s1600/CT+2011+472.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpVS9IvE5hyphenhyphenxa_r0wfm9KsJcrok8qUZRdT5C6Gnn99rqyRvKfE6xH1eG9-pgi_0M2E8DU0tx8MzaTXvxaB8-rqS5L4Id9IorGpENZY39_ih9Njqnkjne1QMw-GAOfqmQhoXRUwssB2oXA/s200/CT+2011+472.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5639262038674756530" /></a>
<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXKyhSyt1yIIbJE8YXlaurrOpknxiS2OM7jc9e4hSIoZtxuRDK_idKjfQnCF94siXogeBHe0w5ZNqzI6q1kj0neiB5nLOhp_1nO8Gj_DIC3c8emuwQQyVW4iBQ3l60Q2sNnZnxiRyUiMo/s1600/CT+2011+468.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXKyhSyt1yIIbJE8YXlaurrOpknxiS2OM7jc9e4hSIoZtxuRDK_idKjfQnCF94siXogeBHe0w5ZNqzI6q1kj0neiB5nLOhp_1nO8Gj_DIC3c8emuwQQyVW4iBQ3l60Q2sNnZnxiRyUiMo/s200/CT+2011+468.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5639261553805358018" /></a>
<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr-xlRyd7WWeNoUO0FPXSXUeq_PJ0glUUz2Rnjy87rL8VNLN5We7fMeJYeGUBX3g2LTKc9tG5brcLJoYsw2tBdTCTcjIC-I8AQ-qcBjVmr3NgDBPq7JWjbUJTB-thJbyz-6DxyqdxZgJI/s1600/CT+2011+046.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr-xlRyd7WWeNoUO0FPXSXUeq_PJ0glUUz2Rnjy87rL8VNLN5We7fMeJYeGUBX3g2LTKc9tG5brcLJoYsw2tBdTCTcjIC-I8AQ-qcBjVmr3NgDBPq7JWjbUJTB-thJbyz-6DxyqdxZgJI/s200/CT+2011+046.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5639261357221437314" /></a>
<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4Z3xtaiJqJ37Nhr_fu-kYCqMNj96ERaer66HWIY101LnZV78-LngniCoE3kXiCspQqRuWFE-jSg6GU7g94Ha5xuyIcKRU8ds09JZ5rptGz2jm09x66cQE10tirHpbLKaZ3t4Ex8Dd3Lc/s1600/CT+2011+333.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4Z3xtaiJqJ37Nhr_fu-kYCqMNj96ERaer66HWIY101LnZV78-LngniCoE3kXiCspQqRuWFE-jSg6GU7g94Ha5xuyIcKRU8ds09JZ5rptGz2jm09x66cQE10tirHpbLKaZ3t4Ex8Dd3Lc/s400/CT+2011+333.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5639261104676621746" /></a>
<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidEPMeMXSSJSAOrzrOH6obKbQVkBFTlJtOsfPx9CPsrnGJAMVlBzgLbty99DwnTqEcxloxBekujN8XZRI5HGet1eMGCBWq-ADisE7LD2QnO59yY6qhaghSjM2KTF6tC-eUdXNsfdz6Dts/s1600/CT+2011+247.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidEPMeMXSSJSAOrzrOH6obKbQVkBFTlJtOsfPx9CPsrnGJAMVlBzgLbty99DwnTqEcxloxBekujN8XZRI5HGet1eMGCBWq-ADisE7LD2QnO59yY6qhaghSjM2KTF6tC-eUdXNsfdz6Dts/s400/CT+2011+247.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5639258679393911618" /></a>
<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJETHg8hmOMmLO5v9poEpRvIwoV38FnenUGzeAnkngAYzi-WmNuPZeBCLJ9_fLR3EqJw7jMQu4Wbx2BGWcewwzegaNkSKY4j57DjaCOVFZhDwB7oupwvfkHUvGL0SDRt3uVVyS1B-Njlo/s1600/CT+2011+129.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJETHg8hmOMmLO5v9poEpRvIwoV38FnenUGzeAnkngAYzi-WmNuPZeBCLJ9_fLR3EqJw7jMQu4Wbx2BGWcewwzegaNkSKY4j57DjaCOVFZhDwB7oupwvfkHUvGL0SDRt3uVVyS1B-Njlo/s200/CT+2011+129.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5639257891567459266" /></a>
<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1gBU_fdmv3iqLg0qBOjvobbvknewa_8AOY0FvGFgM5M58YJFDaZZva2BtVReBFyEAAsUA6FA7qGzgfi7h8rb7QAwB4adIpPM9kUbE1z-2I4PzV2zCN4cWAxcc-EKncNK63baIZf4PlqI/s1600/CT+2011+102.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1gBU_fdmv3iqLg0qBOjvobbvknewa_8AOY0FvGFgM5M58YJFDaZZva2BtVReBFyEAAsUA6FA7qGzgfi7h8rb7QAwB4adIpPM9kUbE1z-2I4PzV2zCN4cWAxcc-EKncNK63baIZf4PlqI/s200/CT+2011+102.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5639257608621137090" /></a>
<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj20QIkkmx2GgjpBE9aEtDD0nUcQ7Cf0Hx30vMFCsP0u3j2ZMQkRtjQ1waS1UPLQlcezC8PBJyQN0wC_N3vRbkZ7e7_X9_6twHV9eDWzK2rJrcfAqqcRPzOuJz1olnGEl3Rk1dtSB0L5gU/s1600/CT+2011+105.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj20QIkkmx2GgjpBE9aEtDD0nUcQ7Cf0Hx30vMFCsP0u3j2ZMQkRtjQ1waS1UPLQlcezC8PBJyQN0wC_N3vRbkZ7e7_X9_6twHV9eDWzK2rJrcfAqqcRPzOuJz1olnGEl3Rk1dtSB0L5gU/s200/CT+2011+105.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5639257325019892018" /></a>
<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVe-CIVi8npZgNrd3DBzpQXQHduwOgiuYn79JlcEgssAA7Ajb6qMyboc0YZmcRTM2Fwcb25tacagPwknQq2pJPctW9n1TlUCUXnbt4aGg1SugZVJ4HthyBtuignL0mXoZnOJEr7ixFQqE/s1600/CT+2011+001.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVe-CIVi8npZgNrd3DBzpQXQHduwOgiuYn79JlcEgssAA7Ajb6qMyboc0YZmcRTM2Fwcb25tacagPwknQq2pJPctW9n1TlUCUXnbt4aGg1SugZVJ4HthyBtuignL0mXoZnOJEr7ixFQqE/s200/CT+2011+001.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5639256963091959346" /></a>
<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYMGtUNn6-kDVqqzewVYz-yB7EwvNiYyaS5NSe8SorfuakQdImCTvlJqTwN6eDU-SwJFDrBDexow17x6NlftkvoBml7N8OsGTV6Jtewm3MB2_U4v_jDT_yMne-ZVsFqVjnR36XjpX6cqc/s1600/CT+2011+085.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYMGtUNn6-kDVqqzewVYz-yB7EwvNiYyaS5NSe8SorfuakQdImCTvlJqTwN6eDU-SwJFDrBDexow17x6NlftkvoBml7N8OsGTV6Jtewm3MB2_U4v_jDT_yMne-ZVsFqVjnR36XjpX6cqc/s200/CT+2011+085.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5639256772132426610" /></a>
<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgulL_lVxoRgM8qSaMRxyYlT74Jq7FD6zhWaC40lxcWb_kKz4rbJR_gPYmkHUUnwdSUDf_ivTHSM3WbJfDej5N0M5DfgwJMwgruHu9UEubtwDAsK9DeK8Cs5BaKZwLH5t5JIPqdQKLMJ6E/s1600/CT+2011+324.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgulL_lVxoRgM8qSaMRxyYlT74Jq7FD6zhWaC40lxcWb_kKz4rbJR_gPYmkHUUnwdSUDf_ivTHSM3WbJfDej5N0M5DfgwJMwgruHu9UEubtwDAsK9DeK8Cs5BaKZwLH5t5JIPqdQKLMJ6E/s200/CT+2011+324.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5639256522847948914" /></a>
<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW6Ui4LaBUboUOlNyYOgizhfNykGDH1JEXLsFxAq7Ip-vLYP6h93gSlsjJLlIGwbu3JzMKnxs9FXu-n9AauNe5c7_3I0sI3tsdcQk7fBRib-TaODeulpIhz6QWx75SVdnO_LD6JRqbV4Q/s1600/CT+2011+454.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW6Ui4LaBUboUOlNyYOgizhfNykGDH1JEXLsFxAq7Ip-vLYP6h93gSlsjJLlIGwbu3JzMKnxs9FXu-n9AauNe5c7_3I0sI3tsdcQk7fBRib-TaODeulpIhz6QWx75SVdnO_LD6JRqbV4Q/s200/CT+2011+454.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5639256138528598994" /></a>
<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijW6c24kkcTNrfNvgDNDEz2QJ-0royYbMdKCoySUGqx_kdlXv3C5wW7tiYv0ciZXM3pihkOM6G26QyXOk_16AqiHqjijhJh15xTH0Ae-CHuoD-3Rgqh4eJCQ7jXybyG2mrRQ6rpNKbel8/s1600/CT+2011+325.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijW6c24kkcTNrfNvgDNDEz2QJ-0royYbMdKCoySUGqx_kdlXv3C5wW7tiYv0ciZXM3pihkOM6G26QyXOk_16AqiHqjijhJh15xTH0Ae-CHuoD-3Rgqh4eJCQ7jXybyG2mrRQ6rpNKbel8/s200/CT+2011+325.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5639255901072478482" /></a>
<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSruw8_oRQh13iE2_qdze-HNBjv2y5T7V725RHmTtViiev6mYwG_DhtdIGT_-LR9Azpj83es4toeAKJtw_NVp8hbcR9wwbDBLULOJQIgV0WNj-wDU6jzaJ4Xvq1I_TM4fhb9xTdXPuU7w/s1600/CT+2011+264.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSruw8_oRQh13iE2_qdze-HNBjv2y5T7V725RHmTtViiev6mYwG_DhtdIGT_-LR9Azpj83es4toeAKJtw_NVp8hbcR9wwbDBLULOJQIgV0WNj-wDU6jzaJ4Xvq1I_TM4fhb9xTdXPuU7w/s200/CT+2011+264.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5639255491149746642" /></a>
<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIqTckWJ4aVNHxbRDqrVokMBkW4t0d6qIw8lt1sN2-To1afoy7ryE7plKWC9U14kKcbtNVupTZLQArmrGyo-5XuXC86hdtFJLhexCnz83gyD2qSuvQyhc04JI-2QasyP1_4PTBXxo1S2c/s1600/CT+2011+238.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIqTckWJ4aVNHxbRDqrVokMBkW4t0d6qIw8lt1sN2-To1afoy7ryE7plKWC9U14kKcbtNVupTZLQArmrGyo-5XuXC86hdtFJLhexCnz83gyD2qSuvQyhc04JI-2QasyP1_4PTBXxo1S2c/s200/CT+2011+238.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5639255241516343586" /></a>
<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_mxw9CO6OzLPZC8O8_mgmLE5q6lH0sIvo_XXE4EPvCzuxGWGjU3thK14NJHxOYbQwCfUysEGY96hnyZnXpcTRROyXINgKdBwvm0B5qNCXN9Nb_bLzhhzOsa8fknUYYyyANyUcMUahics/s1600/CT+2011+207.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_mxw9CO6OzLPZC8O8_mgmLE5q6lH0sIvo_XXE4EPvCzuxGWGjU3thK14NJHxOYbQwCfUysEGY96hnyZnXpcTRROyXINgKdBwvm0B5qNCXN9Nb_bLzhhzOsa8fknUYYyyANyUcMUahics/s200/CT+2011+207.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5639255021365312898" /></a>
<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXaNvybJnfWmX9W72h7_WwIOA_gUS13AN0ib4GivcWaW1kFLoEzKkwfCFtb_jAx17rnu0Mz2yvDPEvCRlFLs9agIAc4WOOw2VD0a8LxaTCpWaYoSlKRrJXbCA9g-QcmXba85IgF2vIKmE/s1600/CT+2011+179.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXaNvybJnfWmX9W72h7_WwIOA_gUS13AN0ib4GivcWaW1kFLoEzKkwfCFtb_jAx17rnu0Mz2yvDPEvCRlFLs9agIAc4WOOw2VD0a8LxaTCpWaYoSlKRrJXbCA9g-QcmXba85IgF2vIKmE/s200/CT+2011+179.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5639254653810514770" /></a>
<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu8uorf1i1Dd7O4eQOX8Q-VDLk9hFgdwVC3GdaRu9P1VakOHk4a3d09BFuH6adByXwOmstpPOFrSn3f_UbUdGha8Vj2_yqMWnSO3DPwk84ra5Z1I5uJPZbkKdO2eSPJFQfQINdxkGFDmo/s1600/CT+2011+137.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu8uorf1i1Dd7O4eQOX8Q-VDLk9hFgdwVC3GdaRu9P1VakOHk4a3d09BFuH6adByXwOmstpPOFrSn3f_UbUdGha8Vj2_yqMWnSO3DPwk84ra5Z1I5uJPZbkKdO2eSPJFQfQINdxkGFDmo/s200/CT+2011+137.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5639254393152623490" /></a>
<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivV8HABe1r0b-CQ-7Ch3CXAdYxc6SKpvC-8s-An497J1QuIL_W5xUC7yhrHybXP2FGHKaQ1ZJ08QNJbjqAVWbSG8uLdwthZocomurmvfTl5VvtYKmPQMb8wywYn8CuCBQ2QGlT3_ZxchM/s1600/CT+2011+128.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivV8HABe1r0b-CQ-7Ch3CXAdYxc6SKpvC-8s-An497J1QuIL_W5xUC7yhrHybXP2FGHKaQ1ZJ08QNJbjqAVWbSG8uLdwthZocomurmvfTl5VvtYKmPQMb8wywYn8CuCBQ2QGlT3_ZxchM/s200/CT+2011+128.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5639254105637487842" /></a>
<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJZpVLoYFcwR97kA8077qjMgUhKpJmqcDE4B8TiezYIJFmu9l1Bg2IJ4rTTD3AaaCDU5PAZYBu4swZsnmq_ho2lckK8NiGYMrwq6b_xHOqYcrorN6jIU66hYUYs1MxNiVFMQHUSXabkyA/s1600/CT+2011+042.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJZpVLoYFcwR97kA8077qjMgUhKpJmqcDE4B8TiezYIJFmu9l1Bg2IJ4rTTD3AaaCDU5PAZYBu4swZsnmq_ho2lckK8NiGYMrwq6b_xHOqYcrorN6jIU66hYUYs1MxNiVFMQHUSXabkyA/s200/CT+2011+042.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5639253867856664146" /></a>
<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj7kfNi3kolz9PpOhOVXlOXewEHdRVaCizYTrYMFg3cKHIhB1YrhUbZNB-Dp3Ow3oLe1KSkE7kQFPh0NESmCY1In9cj4ZUPAlyaY963hQ465bXNxF5WD9xAy2TFwLJco71jH5juQI4FBc/s1600/CT+2011+022.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj7kfNi3kolz9PpOhOVXlOXewEHdRVaCizYTrYMFg3cKHIhB1YrhUbZNB-Dp3Ow3oLe1KSkE7kQFPh0NESmCY1In9cj4ZUPAlyaY963hQ465bXNxF5WD9xAy2TFwLJco71jH5juQI4FBc/s200/CT+2011+022.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5639253544343355922" /></a>
<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_9qsziXJqDRl0wW0uxkziHMQgxJ_CoPhunuh_TyU6PrpCDgg10h0vSzRB3MVSsMTLsCYCpEFRroHG6CIuRhdMrJ3JYaN3ds5NglFfkAVvc1c0MPi97q84MoaD5EZffpNeZeLbvDslQpo/s1600/CT+2011+008.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_9qsziXJqDRl0wW0uxkziHMQgxJ_CoPhunuh_TyU6PrpCDgg10h0vSzRB3MVSsMTLsCYCpEFRroHG6CIuRhdMrJ3JYaN3ds5NglFfkAVvc1c0MPi97q84MoaD5EZffpNeZeLbvDslQpo/s200/CT+2011+008.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5639249745047110898" /></a>
<br />Tommorrow Sunday July 10th 2011 is the big day! I will back pack from Denver to Durango for a distance of 500 miles on the Colorado Trail. I walked the trail in 2008 and really enjoyed it, and with moisture from the heavy snow fall this past winter, the wild flowers should be "perfecto mundo baby".
<br />
<br /> The trail passes through seven national forests six wilderness areas and crosses over eight mountain ranges. Visit www.colorado trail.com
<br />
<br /> I hope to hike the trail in 26 days and have my food dropped at six different spots. Actually I have my food buried in six different spots at places where the trail crosses a road. I drove for 20 hours from Denver to Molas Pass last week with shovel and food buckets in hand. This way I won't have to carry more than a week's supply of food at any given time. MAMA DIDN'T RAISE NO FOOL!
<br />
<br /> Half way through the trip July 22nd I'll meet Pam, my wife, at Mt. Princeton Hot Springs Resort and that will be the first time I'll be able to add to the blog.
<br />
<br />July 10th Section 1-2 19 miles Pam, my lovely wife dropped me off at the Indian creek trailhead without a hitch, She was so glad she didn't have to walk the 500 miles to Durango.
<br />
<br /> A fellow hiker named Phil was staring a hole in his map when we pulled up. He had plans on walking the 16.6 miles to the Platte river and returning by the same route. We hiked togethor for about an hour when I noticed Phil wasn't there any more, everybody has their own pace. He ended up doing over 25 miles which is great for the first time out.
<br />
<br /> I made it to the Platte River as my stomach said it was lunch time. A welcoming committe of fellow hikers were on the east side of the fast moving river.
<br />
<br /> Two younger fellas had hiked during the night from the trail head and had visions of doing 30 miles a day until they ran into Durango. One of the guys was swimming in the river before they had to hike up the mountain. I found out later that they did do their 30 miles and then headed back to Denver.
<br />
<br /> Two Aussie girls with the trail names of Pill Popper and Jet Lag, the names acquired after hiking for a few days have plans on going to Durango.
<br />
<br /> Forty year old Brian had a back pack so big it looked like the Leaning Tower of Piza. He was hiking to Copper Mountain. His mother looked at my 25 pound pack and said, "I guess you aren't going very far!"
<br />
<br /> I loaded up with water because the first water supply is 10 long miles away and I was going to camp before that.
<br />
<br /> I met Michael and Billie,a couple of old friends who were Catholic priests. Billie teaches theology at the University of St. Louis. They had the idea of walking for 7 days to Breckenridge. I met them during a lightning and rain storm.
<br />
<br /> I set up my camp in between storms and as I was sitting in my tent, a big storm blew through and toppled over my tent with me in it.
<br />
<br />July 11th: Section 2-3 21 miles I meet up with Michael and Billie again and we walked together until lunch time, where they needed an R&R for their sore legs. I moved on with my pack cover on and boy did I need it. Lightning was bouncing off the tree tops all around me and then rain came down in buckets, besides that it was all right! I stayed down as low as I could get and pretty soon the storm passed.
<br />
<br /> I found the Aussie girls getting drinking water out of a trickle of a stream. When they left I filled my clear plastic container and noticed that a lot of small critters were staring back at me. I emptied all of the containers and used my hankerchief to filter out the larger bugs. M&B and I camped out close together and all of us had stories to tell about the storm.
<br />
<br />July 12th: section 3-4 24 miles I left early and was able to get into Lost Creek Wilderness before the sun was high in the sky. My pack zipper had opened so I had lost some gear and had to go back like an Easter egg hunt and find all the goodies.
<br />
<br /> By 11:30a I reached Long Gulch, an area with out a bit of high cover which would help to protect a hiker from any developing storms. I ate a fast lunch with both eyes on the grey sky. The gulch is 6 miles long and I almost ran the whole distance. At 1:30 pm I was in the trees and set up my tent and within five seconds, hail and rain were bouncing off of my back. I thought I was at the trailhead with water near but I still had 2.5 miles to go. Everytime I thought of taking down my tent it would rain. I stayed in or around my tent for 14 hours with too many storms to count buzzing overhead. Then to add to the treat of wondering if you were going to get fried in my sleeping bag, cows appeared, hundreds of mooing pooping cows at 2:00 am! Someone had left open a gate and I was in the middle of a cattle drive.
<br />
<br />July 13th:Section 5 15 miles I meet up with the rest of the gang and we headed towards Kenosha Pass. The weather was perfect. The flowers, especially the Colorado Columbines were unbelievable, and I appreciated the sheer beauty of them. We all set up in a forest service camp ground where I happened to have buried my resupply of food. We had running water but no bathrooms! A couple of hikers, Travis and Troy showed up dragging their back sides from the heat and miles under their shoes. The Aussies headed to Jefferson for showers and food. While M&B and I cleaned up a little, rain showers showed up right over Michael's head, like the Truman movie.
<br />
<br />July 14th: Section 5 20 miles Georgia Pass at 12,800 feet high was in front of us. M&B decided to sleep in and take two days to get over the obstacle, since they didn't have to be off the trail until Saturday. I headed out early since I didn't want to be above tree line after 2:00 pm when the storms brew. At 10:30am I arrived in the open and grey clouds were forming but I moved faster than the weather and cleared the pass before the hail and rain. The rest of the gang had to fight the lack of oxygen and rain pounding their heads.
<br />
<br /> I made camp by 1:30 and sat on a log, and watched the river water rush by. A motorcycle rider tried to make it through the Swan river and fell in the middle. By 6:00 pm the whole gang was in camp and there were lots of stories and blisters on top of blisters.
<br />
<br />July 15th: section 6-7 17 miles I was being motivated by the thoughts of the town of Breckenridge in my mind. BY 11:43 I was standing waiting for the free 11:45 bus to the promised town of Breck with sweet smelling people and food. I have to leave in a few minutes to get back on the trail.
<br />
<br /> The bus ride back to the trail head was uneventful except the bus driver wanted to go with me to Durango. The CT crossed the bike trail from Frisco to Breck and as I was walking along the path a tandom bike with a couple came to a screeching stop. Bobby and Monique, a friend of my son Matt was on vacation with his fam from Seattle. He happened to be in my son's wedding just this past May and we had a nice encounter.
<br />
<br /> I was ready to start the push up the mountain at Gold Hill when two mountain bikers stopped me for some last minute pointers about the Colorado Rockies. Lindal and Kyle had dropped their car in Salida and were ready to take on the CT. For the next week the two Okies and myself would come in contact and tell our stories of adventure and wonderment. They soon found out there was a lot more pushing the bikes then riding. I came to the conclusion that the mountain bikers are 33.3%-that's 33.3% pushing you're bike up the steep mountains, 33.3% going around the wilderness areas on paved roads and 33.3% just riding on the trails. I found so many frustrated mountain bikers, ready to throw down their bikes and jump on them.
<br />
<br /> After walking for 3.5 miles I came to a nice camp spot next to a creek. Charles, a fellow hiker was sitting along the creek with his back pack still on. A sleeping bag that he must have bought from a Civil War army surplus store sat on top. It looked like it was made out of fluffy cotton and lined with more cotton. During a rain storm it would turn into a giant sponge. Charles was trying to get by on just eating Roman noodles and little else, and his complection showed it. With his pack on it took all his strength to just get up. "My trail name is the Tortoise, because I move so slow!" he said. I thought it was because he looked like he was a turtle that was turned upside down and couldn't right itself. Charles crossed the creek and again sat down with his pack on. "I should walk maybe a half mile farther, so I have a good start mania." he said. I told him he was carrying to much weight. "That's it I am going to burn my sleeping bag and this jacket with a thousand pockets!" he said. "I think it's time for you to go back to Breckenridge!" I advised. He slowly got up with his pack on by slidding up along the side of a tree and walked up the trail.
<br />
<br /> July 16th Section 7-8 19 miles The 10th Mountain range was ahead of me with a lot of the snow from last winter still hanging on. During my coming hike I had meet more then a few hikers that had turned around after trying to walk across the 45% snow field with large sharp boulders below. Within a few minutes I came to Charles's tent covered with a blue tarp from Walmart and around the tent it looked like a yard sale with pots and pans. I continued and ran into my Okies friends who were camped with a couple from Houston, Texas. The woman said she was having a nice time and had only been crying a couple of times a day compared to the begining of the hike. As the the trail got steeper the snow got deeper, being knee deep in some spots. Around one of the bends in the trail there stood the famous snow slide area, with a narrow path leading across the snow field. I slowly walked across the field with one eye on the sharp rocks that would catch my slide. Half way across I looked down and there stood a big juicy apple, right in the middle of the path. Most people would have kicked it off, but it did look good. I ate it and slowly dropped the core over the edge of the snow field.
<br />
<br /> I continued and had to cross a few more snow fields but this time they where flat. I came to the top of the 10th Mountain range and could look down on Copper Mountain ski area. The CT connected with the Wheeler path and this is the path that was being used as a mountain bike race this morning. The dare devils had already zoomed down th rocky path and I found parts of bikes to prove it. I collected some of the gear that had rattled off the bike frames, when a race offical sweeper showed up and took my bootie.
<br />
<br /> I crossed the road and within an hour I was sitting at the Copper Mountain restaurant eating my way through a burger. The waiter was very busy trying to wait on outside patrons as well as those inside, when it started to rain. It looked like he was just about to out his hair and he yelled,"what can happen next!" I ordered a turkey wrap to go and it proved to be a nice treat for dinner. I followed the Guller Creek trail and found a great camping spot.
<br />
<br /> Within an hour my Oklahoma friends showed up after having crossed the snow field with their plastic shoes and carrying their bikes. I told them ignorance is bliss. They didn't realize the danger of it all.
<br />
<br />July 17th Section 8-9 14 miles The boys and I got up early, with Searle pass and Komomo pass ahead of us. The morning was clear and I had skied this area before, so it was fun to see it in green with so many flowers. The pass had some snow crossings but they where easy to maneuver. Then just as I stepped onto a snow field with the snow being only an inch thick, I went down! The void under the snow was 4 feet deep, but lucky for me I came crashing down on my chest on the other side and it stopped my fall. I did manage to break both my walking sticks. After crossing a half dozen more snow fields I made it down to the trees and found some sticks and with duct tape temporarily fixed my poles.
<br />
<br /> I was working on my poles when a major storm decided it was time to show who was really boss. A lightning flash hit the power pole down the valley and I knew it was time to find shelter. I took out my ground cover that goes under my tent and covered my raggety butt. I layed down among the aspen trees, trying to stay as close to the ground as possible. The hail hit first and I actually fell asleep under the tarp when the real storm showed itself.
<br />
<br /> After the fury of the weather passed I continued down the wet path, with the tall bushes along the path acting like a car wash, with the magic fingers sweeping my legs clean. When the trail came close to the road, I saw my Oklahoma buddies pedalling along the road. They had survived the storm. We stopped and told our stories of survival. They had broken bike parts and I had busted hiking poles.
<br />
<br /> When we got close to Tennessee Pass and the fact that it was a Sunday,there were lots more mountain bikers on the trail. A line of four came zooming down the trail and I was able to stop the last one to find out about a sporting goods store in Leadville that might have replacement hiking poles. The tail end biker stopped and I asked about the store. "Yes there is a store open and you're Vince Vogel!" said the biker. Five years ago I had cross country skied to a back country hut named Skinner, high above Leadville. Cameron and his father and then girlfriend had also skied in and after a couple of feet of new snow during the night they were looking for a new trail to come down. I guided them down along the Hagerman Pass road and then I skied back. Cameron took me to town and I was able to buy new poles and then he brought me back and made sure I was on the right trail.
<br />
<br /> I walked to the first camp site since it was late in the day after making my unplanned stop in Leadville.
<br />
<br /> July 18th Section 9-10 19 miles This section of the CT ends at Hagerman Road pass and that is where my second food was buried. All the sections of the trail have soemthing special but this one goes above and beyond with the beauty of the mountains and the lakes. I had to climb around a few snow banks after my last encounter with the killer snow field. I came down to the trail head and there lying along the trail were Farmer Boy and Moom Beam and their trusty dog. Farmer Boy had walked the trail before and knew what to expect but Moon Beam was worn down to the bone. The dog even looked tired! They couldn't decide whether to go to Leadville for some R&R or continue on. I walked on and I heard them come up behind me and we talked during the hour we walked together. He was an organic garlic farmer and she was a student in Boulder. We parted company when I reached my food cache and they continued on. I had hidden my food in the Home Depot bucket and had covered the whole thing with giant rocks. Someone or something had found the bucket and uncovered it, but all the food was intact. I sat along Hagerman road and ate my lunch and resupplied my pack.
<br />
<br /> I caught up with Farmer and Moonie during the afternoon and their condition wasn't any better. The skies looked like rain and it was getting late so I was on the look out for a campsite. I found a nice one on a bluff but an old rotten tree was guarding it and there was a strong wind blowing. I had visions of waking up dead with a tree laying across my tent. I found another site down lower in the aspen trees. After the storm passed I was able to get out of my tent and do a bit of exploring. The aspen trees had grown up around an old mining camp. I found an old foundation of a mining shack and some mining pans.
<br />
<br /> July 19th Section 10-11 22 miles The next morning walking along I met a fellow named Anthony who was half way through his hike-the 5400 mile stroll from Grand Canyon to the the Rocky Mountains and then north to British Coloumbia then back to the Grand Canyon. Tony seemed a bit weary which he should have been! The rest of my trip seemed like a walk in the park after talking with this hiker. I continued to the down hill stretch to the Clear Creek basin. The trail wove its' way back and forth, like a snake on a hot surface, until I was standing along side Clear Creek. The trail kind of disappeared after it entered the camping area. I had my CT data book in one hand and with the other I was swatting swarms of mosquitos. A camper came out of his portable shelter to inform me about the trail and tell me that this place was the breeding ground for the bug. "The mosquitos are so big here, when you kill them you can hear their bones break!" he said. I continued on the CT as I crossed the bridge over the creek and then straight up the hill again.
<br />
<br /> The Waverly Mountain trail was long and steep which made my pack seem heavier. At the top of the trail was a large plastic garbage bag full of purged clothing. A new fleece coat, fleece pants and gloves to match filled the bag.There was also a portable radio with batteries. A discarded book caught my attention, "What can the Bible do for me!" I thought it should have been what can my hiking boots do for me, or "Do I need a strong back and a weak mind to back pack?"
<br />
<br /> In the afternoon I met three hikers that had come from Durango, the first hiker seemed to be the gadget man with GPS, maps and compass tucked away in his hiking vest. The second hiker was fifteen minutes behind Captain Vito and was trying to keep up and eat a power bar while he stumbled along. The last fella stopped and talked and told me he had hiked from Denver in June and had reached the snow fields of the 10th Mountain and had turned back to Denver and got a ride to Durango, so he wouldn't have to cross the snow field. When I told him the snow field was still there, he looked like he wanted to cry.
<br />
<br /> I walked into the Harvard Lake area and the weather was holding. I set up my tent and had a great dinner looking onto the lakes. A father and his son with a few grandchildren thrown in for good measure were trying to catch some fish. They had walked into the site with tents, tables, and easy chairs from the trail head, which wasn't that far away.
<br />
<br />July 20th Section 11-12 18 miles I would have a 26 mile day but then I would have extra time with Pam my wife, when she drove from Denver to Mount Princeton Hot Springs. I walked down into the North Cottonwood Creek drainage and then had to climb back out in order to then walk down into the Middle and then the final South Cottonwood Creek drainage.
<br />
<br /> When you have been back packing for more then just a few days the approach of a trail head is very apparent. For one thing the hikers that are walking towards you smell so fresh and clean and so do their clothes. I met a couple at the trail head, from St Louis, Missouri, "I was hiking with a priest named Billy that teaches at the university in St.Louis!" I said. He replied, "I graduated from that university, and took Billy's theology class." Come to find out this hiker was a devout Catholic and the girl sitting in front of him during their school days was a total atheist. This Catholic boy got a C, the only C of his whole college career and the girl that didn't believe got a A! After all these years he still couldn't figure out what happened.
<br />
<br /> Just before lunch as I walked along the trail I noticed a mountain biker coming my way. "How's it going Lance Armstrong Jr?" I asked, just kidding. As soon as he laughed I knew it was Mike my room mate from the CSU days, way back in 1969. He had retired from the forest service and had been living in Salida. I hadn't seen him since 1984 and we talked for about a hour.
<br />
<br /> I continued on the trail and then the trail turned into a dirt road and then I could see the hot springs below. As I walked up to the general store in front of the building I noticed my two Okie friends. Kyle's mountain bike was almost a toatl loss with broken derailer and a snapped chain. I suggested they coast down the hill to Chalk Creek Campground and then tommorow morning Pam and I would pick them up and take them to Salida where they had parked their car. Over a cold drink they told me about pushing their bikes up to Mount Albert the highest mountain in Colorado and then they came screeming back down. Kyle hit a small stump in the middle of the road, which stopped his bike. Kyle kept going and had a close encounter with a large pine tree.
<br />
<br /> Pam showed up and had brought down some of my hiking boots which I needed to replace as my existing pair had given up the ghost.
<br />
<br />July 21 My hiking clothes needed to be cleaned in the worse way since they had been on my back for 12 days. One of the things I did find out on the trail, if you rub sage brush leaves in the really rotten smelling parts of your clothes, they are bearable to you and others. We picked up Lindal and dropped him off at his car in Salida and then did my laundry while we were down there.
<br />
<br />July 22nd Section 12-13 23 miles After breakfast, I was burning sunlight so it was time to get a little closer to Durango. As I crossed the Brown Creek area a group of five campers were circled around like they where defending themselves against Indians. They all sat in lawn chairs with full paper plates full of sugary rolls and bacon.
<br />
<br /> By 4:00pm I had arrived at the Angel of Shavano campground. An Okie family was cutting dried firewood, since the open fire ban had been relaxed. I walked through the campsite and then came to a outhouse being cleaned by Rick the camp host. Rick told me if I wanted to cross the North Fork creek I wouldn't have to pay the $15.00 camp fee. I found the bridge and then settled into my wooded campsite. After dinner I walked back towards the offical camping grounds and noticed two German girls unloading their mountain bikes. They had started at Leadville and were going to Durango. When I entered their camping spot they looked like they had just seen a combination of Big Foot and the Creature from the Black Lagoon. I didn't stay long and walked over the bridge to the offical campsite. A couple were playing a game of Beano, where you throw bean bags into a hole cut into a plywood platform about 10 feet away. it's like horse shoes with out the weight.
<br />
<br /> Rick the camp host came by and told about his life as a camp host. Rick and his wife lived in Susanville California. Rick's wife didn't like camping life but their neighbor's wife did. So the two couples decided to switch partners for the summer, and it seems to be working for them.
<br />
<br />July 23rd Section 13-14 18 miles This morning I crossed highway 50 that leads to Salida and a new food cache buried by me a few weeks ago. I found the cache and continued on my journey towards Marshall Pass. When I walked this trail in 2004 the trail wasn't marked very well and I got lost for a few hours. This time there was a large sign and I was on my way. This being a Sunday and a very popular mountaion bike trail, I had to dodge a few riders but they were very well mannered. My handy dandy date book said there wasn't much water to drink after coming out of the creek drainage. The book mentioned a steel pipe sticking out of the hillside as the last water source. With all the moisture that Colorado's been receiving there was a great seasonal spring running just about the same place I wanted to stop for the night.
<br />
<br />July 24th Section 14-15 18 miles I climbed over Marshall Pass and this trail head can be very confusing, but not now. A CT marker guided me in the right direction. As I sat and took a break I noticed a fellow hiker getting her pack on her back. Jennie was a vet with the forest service out of Fort Collins, Colo. Her dream was to finish the CT in 40 days and with luck she should be able to do it. Both of us wanted to be camped at Baldy Lake tonight, since that was the next water many miles away. She told me about a family of a father and 3 younger boys aged eight, nine, and ten who were walking the trail and they were ahead of me.
<br />
<br /> By lunch time I caught up with the fam and they where doing very well for a group of hikers with such short legs and all carrying packs. They too wanted to camp at Baldy Lake. The afternoon rains made the trail a slippery muddy mess as I approched the steep trail down to Baldy Lake. Gary a thru hiker was coming up out of the lake when he stopped and talked. For some reason he didn't want to camp along side the beautiful lake, so he was walking back up with a load of water. Gary seemed kind of our of sorts, pissed off, not a happy camper. Gary had stayed in the hostel in Leadville and swore he got a bad case of kennel cough. Which can't be fun when we are all gasping for air in the thin air of the rockies.
<br />
<br /> I set up my tent and hung out over looking the lake as a few rain showers moved through. After dinner the father with his three sons showed up. They were form Littleton Colo, and had walked 18 miles today, which is a very big deal for such a group! The father was making dinner over a stovie that was powered by little wooden sticks. A fan powdered by a double AA turns the stovie into an inferno, as long as the little sticks last. The three boys were watching their father turn bags of freeze dried ingredients into eatable food. I found out there is one more son who is 14 years old but he broke his ankle and is on the mends with mom at home.
<br />
<br />July 25th Section 15-16-17 23 miles I climbed out of the Baldy Lake area and noticed Gary's tent was already gone. I caught up with him in a hour and he wasn't feeling much better. I was taking a break when a thin hiker with a very thin pack showed up and stopped to chat. Mouse had hiked and ran to Durango from Denver in fifteen days and now was on his way back. His pack weighted 7.5 pounds, which makes for a lite carry but an uncomfortable camp out. A thin tarp without a bug netting was his shelter, which signals every bug for three counties "IT'S DINNER TIME!" all night long.
<br />
<br /> The path led down to the trailhead along highway 114. Apple, a friend of the CT had set up his tent and was handing out trail wisdom and snack food. T Bone a doc from Frisco was there, so was Blue Bird a girl that was having her sore foot examined by T Bone. We all sat around and talked about the next section that was known for its' lack of water.
<br />
<br /> It was T Bone's first major hike and he had many questions for me. In fact most people I meet along the trail claim that this was their first major hike and they had many questions. Like the Aussie girls at the beginning. "If you know about the lightning and rain everyday. why are you doing the trail again?" T Bone had questions about gear, water filters, tick prevention and West Nile. I told T Bone I usually filter my water through my teeth, it takes out the toilet paper. Apple thought I was 30 years old and we were both born in 1950. Yipee
<br />
<br /> I had another food cache buried along Highway 114 and it was a race to beat the storm and find my food. The hail and rain won the race with waves of hail, being followed by heavy rain. The whole mess was over in ten minutes but it produced lots of small creeks. One of the new creeks found my buried bucket of food and the bucket was floating in a small puddle. The food was perfectly dry and I put the supplies in my pack. T Bone's wife had showed up with his food and she took my bucket home for a car wash bucket.
<br />
<br /> Blue Bird was collecting water as I passed her and noticed a cooler full of pop from a friend of the CT. I decide to drink another pop the third one today. As I crossed the Lost Creek, my stomach was having problems with all the fizz and sugar.
<br />
<br /> I set up my camp after moving more then a few dried cow pies when Blue Bird showed up. She wasn't very excited about all the cow pies but I told her she could use one as a pillow.
<br />
<br />July 26th Section 17-18 23 milesThis morning I made damn sure that I followed the CT trail and didn't head into the wildnerness, like I did last time. In 2004 I had made a major mistake and followed the trail that led me in the opposite direction of where I wanted to be for a whole day and a half. It was nice to come back to the scene of the crime and realize what I had done wrong.
<br />
<br /> The right trail was a breeze compared to the one where I had been lost for hours. the correct trail was mostly level compared to the one which had me going over a mountain. The trail worked its' way through open spaces with distant mountains in view. By 10:00 am I had crossed a dirt road and met up with a resupplier from Durango. This fella was resuppying three younger girls from Durango. I was low on water and he filled up my containers and passed on three power bars. He told me that the three girls where ahead of me and I might catch up with them today.
<br />
<br /> By lunch time I ran into two guys and a girl who had met up on the CT and seemed to be liking each others company. They also appeared to be a little bit on the weary side. A trail like this that's 500 miles can play on your mind with the never ending cycles of mountain crossings,afternoon lightning and rain showers that occur after dinner everyday and I mean everyday. This group told of meeting a section hiker who knew me from denver. In a short time I came to a group of younger hikers all dressed alike and all carrying the same canvas back packs. It was a Boy Scout group from Germany walking the CT for a week.
<br />
<br /> The skies where getting dark towards the San Luis Pass and the height of my step seemed to increase as the skies got more threatening looking. At the Eddiesville trail head I met up with Jerry, the section hiker that I know from Denver. Jerry just has a few more sections to do and he will have done the whole 500 mile CT. I left Jerry at the campsite at the Eddiesville trail head since I wanted to get a few more miles under my back pack today.
<br />
<br /> I was able to find a campsite in the protection of some pine trees and wash up a bit when the storm hit. I was lying in my tent when the wind and hail started followed by ligthning and pounding rain.
<br />
<br />July 27th Section 18-19-20 23 miles It rained most of the night while I slept in my tent. The closer I walked towards the pass the more I noticed the damage done from the storm on the hikers camped along the trail. The three girls from Durango had camped out at tree line and had inches of hail dropped on their tent. I left all my fellow hikers behind me as I walked towards the pass because it looked like another storm could develop around at the usual time 11:00 am.
<br />
<br /> I cleared the pass and walked towards the road that leads to Creede Colo. As I was walking up the next mountain I noticed three hikers walking towards me. The three didn't look like they needed any kind of medical attention but mentally they looked fried. The three had been caught on top of the mountain during the storm last night. The mountain was so steep that they couldn't put up their tent, so their only protection was a tarp. They were lying under the tarp with hail and lightning pounding down on their bodies. The three told me they rolled back and forth under the tarp, all night to keep from getting struck by lightning, but I think you should do that if you're on fire. They also told me that they had purged their 2 weeks worth of food and would be back in three or four days after soaking their bodies in beer in Creede. I told them the mice would eat it all up if they left it along the trail. "You take it then, we don't want it!" they said. I found a large bag filled with 30 pounds of cheeses, packaged meats and bags of trail mix. I took 5 pounds of the food and left the rest for who or what ever might come along, I couldn't carry anymore. The food was so much better then mine, that I felt like I had hit the lottery at Whole Foods!
<br />
<br /> I met a nice couple that were walking from Marshall Pass to Durango. Andy and Nutmeg seemed to really enjoy the trail. They had fresh legs as they called them and I seemed to be just a few steps behind them. The approach to Snow Mesa is a series of climbs over mountains and walking in a treeless terrain. On a saddle where a series of trails come together a group of us happened to meet up. One couple had a pony and a horse that carried their packs. The husband and wife had also been caught in last night's lightning-hail storm and they had a severe case of shell shock. Just the sound of a airplane going over sent these hikers into the closest ditch. They asked my opinion about the Snow Mesa area. I told them it was wide open and it was anybody's guess if the afternoon storms would show up, but if they did you wouldn't want to be in the open on Snow Mesa. Within seconds they turned around and led their animals back down the mountain away from Snow Mesa.
<br />
<br /> I kept walking and walking faster as I worked my way across the open mesa.A large group of sheep with a shepperd sitting on his horse was between me and a small mountain. I thought with all of these sheep the lightning would surely hit one of these fuzzy critters first. The lightning gods where kind to me today and I made it to Spring Creek Pass without becoming a Colorado Crispy Critter. My two new friends Nutmeg and Andy where already there and we shared dinner together at one of the picnic tables. I had my resupply buried here but with my new approved food, I gave most of my food to a passing motorist.
<br />
<br />July 28th Section 20-21 23 miles My new friends wanted to sleep in so I walked past their tent at my usual hour of 6:00 am. I have never been disappointed starting early. I came up on the open area of willows and there must have been a hundred elk and their calves. The whole group started to move away in a organized riotous manner.
<br />
<br /> The highest point on the CT was directly ahead of me at Coney Summit. A group of back packers from a university in Grand Junction were scattered along the trail just like the elk earlier. i stopped and talked with them. This was designed as a field trip and was part of their school program.
<br />
<br /> Two mountain bikers came up from behind and informed me that another biker was just behind them. An hour later a lone tired biker came from behind and made an immediate stop. "This trail is just somthing else!" he said. "My friends keep leaving me behind, and I don't blame them!" he said. I found out that the group was from Austin Texas and were trying to do the whole CT but had skipped many parts because of broken parts and sore butts.
<br />
<br /> The trail along this rocky steep part made it necessary for my biker friend to carry his bike up the mountain. I told him when he made Molas Pass he should head the bike downhill on the paved road and coast into Durango.
<br />
<br /> At Carson Saddle sat two hikers that had seen better days along the trail. they had been out for 30 days and had just been wondering with no particular place to go. One heavy set fella ate three candy bars while we sat and talked for five minutes. A pass with the name of No Name Pass lay ahead of us and before we could possibly find a level camping spot. The pass was 4 miles away and the weather was not looking that great and what a surprise that was! I mentioned to the candy eaters that they had better put the Snickers away and get moving.
<br />
<br /> I kept one eye on the skies as I worked my way up and over the pass and then the weather turned for the worse with lightning hail and then rain. We have a new name for the pass, "Vince crapped his pants pass!" After a half hour of the rain the skies cleared and I found a camping spot among some other hikers above a small lake. We had a great viewing spot to see storm after storm develop along side the pass. Lightning and hail were being mixed into a witches brew.
<br />
<br /> Occasionally the storm clouds would be blown towards us and then you could hear tent zippers being open and shut as we jumped in our tents for shelter. After an hour of steady rain we witnessed the two candy eaters appearing out of the witchy brew and they were soaked to their undies. The heavey set hiker couldn't have moved any slower if he wanted to and it was painful just to watch him slowly walking along the muddy trail in the distance with lightning and rain as his companions.
<br />
<br /> The water soaked hikers made it to our camp and then we heard a small airplane engine coming up the valley. The pilot looked like he wanted to head the small plane over the unnamed pass like he had done countless times before, but now there was a major storm in the way. The plane banked hard to the left and we could see the pilot and the passengers hanging onto their seat belts for dear life. The plane worked its' way up the next valley and we didn't hear any loud explosion, so I guess they made it.
<br />
<br /> July 29th Section 21-22-23 miles The next morning the skies were clear and it was like the nasty storm hadn't even existed. I met a couple from Arizonia that had been walking sections of the CT and they had many questions for me. This part of the CT is brand new and it's completely in the open for hours on end. The upside is the views encompase a 360 degree panarama. The down side is that when you're walking and the skies turn grey, flashing with lightning you're the tallest object.
<br />
<br /> Before Stony Pass I met a mountain biker who had left his wife off and she was hiking towards Molas Pass. He told me I might meet her along the path. I ended up meeting him but two more times before the day was over.
<br />
<br /> The wild flowers along Stone Pass were the best along the whole CT with fields of fusia colored Indian Paint Brush.
<br />
<br /> I wanted to make the Elk Creek drainage before the skies went to crazy and as I approached the descent the wind and rain picked up. The trail snakes down, twisting and turning for maybe fifty times. With each step I got farther down into the Elk Creek drainage and out of the open tundra. This is one of the best part of the whole trail with Hanging Lake and a few waterfalls that look like Yosemite National Park.
<br />
<br /> I found a campsite that I shared with some weekend hikers and was in my tent before the skies let loose and soaked everything and everybody with moisture.
<br />
<br /> July 30th Section 23-24 19 miles I followed the Elk drainage until the Animas River and then started up towards Molas Pass. I met a couple of girls hiking the trail and they had been blown off the trail and had rented a condo in Gunnsion for 4 days. Next to them was a hiker who had started in Denver with two lamas. He was hiking 10 miles a day and was tired of finding grass for the lamas and setting up camp over forty times. It was the weekend so I met a few more hikers then usual. At Molas Pass I had my last food buried and the mountain biker and his wife whom I had met at Stony Pass were there and I gave them my trash and my resupply bucket.
<br />
<br /> As I ate my lunch over looking Molas Lake I met a thru hiker by the name of Mantis. He was having a rough time of it and wanted the whole CT to just go away. A few weeks ago, he had to walk into Leadville and buy out the local sporting goods store. His starting tent, hiking boots and sleeping bag were all trash and he had to buy all new.
<br />
<br /> When I hiked the trail in 2004, I had been caught on the pass by Engineer Mountain and the weather gods punished me very severly. This time I was going to cross the range early in the morning so I was looking for a camp site on this side tonight. A mountain biking girl who had won the mountain bike race from Molas Pass to Durango suggested a place a few miles ahead on the trail. The site was perfect for a early start tommorrow.
<br />
<br /> July 31st Section 24-25 18 miles It had rained last night so all the underbrush was soaked but the skies where clear, in the morning. I passed Mantis's campsite and kept on hiking. I met a section hiker that had a huge pack that had a bit of a slant to it. I suggested that maybe he needed to repack the gear in his pack. "Oh this is the most comfortable pack I have ever owned!" he said. I tried to adjust the pack for him as I walked and made a slight bit of an improvement to the angle.
<br />
<br /> The skies where getting darker and I could hear thunder in the distance as the lunch hour came near. I stopped under a tree and had the fastest lunch in the history of the CT. As I was wiping the trail mix off my mouth the storm arrived. It was an hour of steady rain. The moisture at Hotel Draw made the trail a muddy mess. A large herd of cows didn't help the trail condition with mushy cow pies decorating the path. One really nice shaped and colored pie that I took for a rock almost ate my whole leg as I stepped onto the movement. I continued with an idea of getting closer to Durango for my final push.
<br />
<br /> After dinner on the trail I came to a group of hikers, three brothers and some of their friends who had started in Denver and were headed to Durango.I setup camp and we had a nice visit around a campfire until the rains came.
<br />
<br />Aug 1st Section 25-26-27 29 miles I got up early and had a 34 mile hike to Durango or until the weather got in my way which ever comes first. I hiked by a pair of travelers who where still tucked away in their sleeping bags. They had started at Stony pass and were going to Durango. Joel and Jeanie were from Boston and were getting a little tired of all the rain.
<br />
<br /> I had Kennebec Mountain range to cross and then it was all down hill until Durango. The weather wanted to show me who was boss for the last time. The skies got grey but I made it over the mountains without much lightning. At Kennebec Pass the skies opned up and I walked in a rain storm for a hour. At the Flagler Creek crossing I set up camp and it was the right hour just before the next storm. A fella from Durango was already in his tent and I was soon in mine with rain pelting the top. Joey and Jeanie showed up and were glad to find a spot.
<br />
<br />Aug 2nd.Section 28 14 miles Woke to clear skies but that doesn't mean anything in the this country. Bill had offered me a ride to Durango with his wife when we reached the trailhead. By lunch time Joey, Bill, Jeanie and myself where all under a pine tree dodging the hail and rain.
<br />
<br /> At 1:30 Bill and I walked out of the CT and into the real world. Bill and his wife gave me a ride to the Adobe Inn located in Durango and a hot shower.
<br />
<br /> Aug 3rd I took a bus to Grand Junction with the idea of taking the train from here to Denver. I didn't get into Grand Junction until 1:00 am and the hotel I had reserved got my name mixed up with another resident and sent me up to their room. I don't know who was more surprised me or the people in the room when I walked into their room at 1:00 am
<br />
<br />Aug 4th I boarded the train for Denver and was able to enjoy all the scenery along the Colorado River. I met a nice couple form Calif. I had promised to give them a ride to the airport in Denver when the train arrived. I didn't realize that the train station had moved and I couldn't find Pam my wife and by the time I did I couldn't find Jim or Deb SORRY !
<br />
<br /> The trip was perfect and it seemed like I had hiked for just 2 days instead of 22. I lost 25 pounds which is about a a pound a day.vince vogelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09409914685847755131noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-113513403868397494.post-55083279885432544152011-06-05T05:24:00.000-07:002014-02-07T14:00:02.825-08:00The Wedding and Lost Coast back packing<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIf9UJcytLwAKejWTKkpzOh18qfL4TpFH40qXcX3ecnUYtX-PV_sUOVwwJEkvNbsaygvc3MUzKn8HK1mEYrFb3jIc_qo66AtzZzcu5cociOL9LBncm8xiruN-5WDYswBAAMIh4J2tDHgs/s1600/matt+wedding+222.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIf9UJcytLwAKejWTKkpzOh18qfL4TpFH40qXcX3ecnUYtX-PV_sUOVwwJEkvNbsaygvc3MUzKn8HK1mEYrFb3jIc_qo66AtzZzcu5cociOL9LBncm8xiruN-5WDYswBAAMIh4J2tDHgs/s400/matt+wedding+222.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5616259048610480354" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyQuWEAUFhSMBfz_6d1sNSF18rpk01cXnIqnQ1dvaeNfZENizscXUMvz7B_6kYCw_EYe5KN60qmJuSCveOVV6vxKH9cFBeoPeSShYDy3ucSyba31wuc0p6kKDvHfSy3a5SVF_ziG5lq0M/s1600/matt+wedding+217.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyQuWEAUFhSMBfz_6d1sNSF18rpk01cXnIqnQ1dvaeNfZENizscXUMvz7B_6kYCw_EYe5KN60qmJuSCveOVV6vxKH9cFBeoPeSShYDy3ucSyba31wuc0p6kKDvHfSy3a5SVF_ziG5lq0M/s200/matt+wedding+217.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5616258387712359506" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhHhGh6XDnZkiBX92a0xNmLkC-q_fELAt7-0nDPP_j2Rfrbn31ri1Ci1WjocLrcPFnRMLjJ8ra3v6MbusnbR_pM8am0xgl475atSheeP9iBSKDv3CvqcggOyIBZLMTlpQa_wBgkuxbCXo/s1600/matt+wedding+194.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhHhGh6XDnZkiBX92a0xNmLkC-q_fELAt7-0nDPP_j2Rfrbn31ri1Ci1WjocLrcPFnRMLjJ8ra3v6MbusnbR_pM8am0xgl475atSheeP9iBSKDv3CvqcggOyIBZLMTlpQa_wBgkuxbCXo/s200/matt+wedding+194.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5616257951932216706" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGszPFCF-_2ReSoU4g2G8B21gxBSaJBq_3y04tAUlZcsEhk8YSbwKBkljS8J0AOUI4EQpkWmicKOfS-jbdxgE05rVGSMoMR_yUHBd_4nstoCLxqS_tycIA6P5r3LgaZ23fHuCXy2VLh4Y/s1600/matt+wedding+169.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGszPFCF-_2ReSoU4g2G8B21gxBSaJBq_3y04tAUlZcsEhk8YSbwKBkljS8J0AOUI4EQpkWmicKOfS-jbdxgE05rVGSMoMR_yUHBd_4nstoCLxqS_tycIA6P5r3LgaZ23fHuCXy2VLh4Y/s200/matt+wedding+169.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5616257633771818018" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXcU8i12okR0NYc9n_yo-bHThY9jbxUX5AlBEyxh0c66fUrhQ9JKs9vc0Wtm_ly7ju1nIdtZwD0NPvbbug_HPmPxlX82idE9HVMl2wqTZZTFMEj3HxbI1DZrw9NG8ggEeFiZzocUaTw9I/s1600/matt+wedding+158.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXcU8i12okR0NYc9n_yo-bHThY9jbxUX5AlBEyxh0c66fUrhQ9JKs9vc0Wtm_ly7ju1nIdtZwD0NPvbbug_HPmPxlX82idE9HVMl2wqTZZTFMEj3HxbI1DZrw9NG8ggEeFiZzocUaTw9I/s200/matt+wedding+158.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5616257180442970146" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7bEFADixThSJIVLs1qHTy-1GFybGInZO4TVGCZecLOxLfiQqx-prMTSp4MKLGKnA0Hs4Tol6Tel7agUywPuJw7Q6T_5m10cF3l2gERSzxyuNSGfFX_T2aa3PbkWw618-MUPzsbTPykH8/s1600/matt+wedding+159.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7bEFADixThSJIVLs1qHTy-1GFybGInZO4TVGCZecLOxLfiQqx-prMTSp4MKLGKnA0Hs4Tol6Tel7agUywPuJw7Q6T_5m10cF3l2gERSzxyuNSGfFX_T2aa3PbkWw618-MUPzsbTPykH8/s200/matt+wedding+159.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5616255283543787202" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDiJlNhM11fN6CCSS2LhA41pLQzryHh4tzV7ZMfg675iCe2aFV0zlpILks5nHAs0TFljr1DsPaDQsUyRcUCLSRXz2FNMVCAxirwEsMOHmXt61McheyG17_vbwEHpVrB6KWKGnzjx4uBcM/s1600/matt+wedding+160.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDiJlNhM11fN6CCSS2LhA41pLQzryHh4tzV7ZMfg675iCe2aFV0zlpILks5nHAs0TFljr1DsPaDQsUyRcUCLSRXz2FNMVCAxirwEsMOHmXt61McheyG17_vbwEHpVrB6KWKGnzjx4uBcM/s200/matt+wedding+160.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5616254816873465794" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs2tavVTsU8IB4he9oN2e6JY0WiFT0iWfHAyfXwuSsGufko8Bx_1sPUXGgS-YZ57hI882gIJoWt6lc9pVuqEtXS-E30xbVddhfI3AduAs1oIqwZ3n-NbDTFCKNT5-ArIdSBACpyKxoMJ8/s1600/matt+wedding+155.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs2tavVTsU8IB4he9oN2e6JY0WiFT0iWfHAyfXwuSsGufko8Bx_1sPUXGgS-YZ57hI882gIJoWt6lc9pVuqEtXS-E30xbVddhfI3AduAs1oIqwZ3n-NbDTFCKNT5-ArIdSBACpyKxoMJ8/s200/matt+wedding+155.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5616254094480517138" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWUp452Xi8TIdKbTc0SnK0yr8qAnLFEioyux8w8suvfiU8GtsUMs81RG0vPgp6O24N7YEjQD9oJ-hA3Qa-TYphm-VS_UIUj1klQENqswYg61XBe9VvDfM672HrC6lRh7MTLTW6j7HVhwE/s1600/matt+wedding+153.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWUp452Xi8TIdKbTc0SnK0yr8qAnLFEioyux8w8suvfiU8GtsUMs81RG0vPgp6O24N7YEjQD9oJ-hA3Qa-TYphm-VS_UIUj1klQENqswYg61XBe9VvDfM672HrC6lRh7MTLTW6j7HVhwE/s200/matt+wedding+153.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5616253673409297570" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYBAi7hcFKBIeTBTlc4yT2TQhj7f9zpu2DN-8U0d59QQjEkQAoSwE4CL9UA26M2BrW1WH6ILyRDLvmJ4LBNi3-tvNw-zjy5I0r_N80shYcSzmBK71ab609NWXuawhVkfmT82KSSh7HZFE/s1600/matt+wedding+189.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYBAi7hcFKBIeTBTlc4yT2TQhj7f9zpu2DN-8U0d59QQjEkQAoSwE4CL9UA26M2BrW1WH6ILyRDLvmJ4LBNi3-tvNw-zjy5I0r_N80shYcSzmBK71ab609NWXuawhVkfmT82KSSh7HZFE/s200/matt+wedding+189.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5616253297020413442" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlJR0OzTTaZLQ7p_TlAeAVVessFZ_jb1I6fXf_2nIDL7h8Z1ly2XFrCFa5zGilvZRKA3NCvChZNVEXMy7cy4lowHJS2FZFJvfayCJ2l-yLSHoTNvUORTE1Xno6z8M9dDbp8F03cCzbPjg/s1600/matt+wedding+186.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlJR0OzTTaZLQ7p_TlAeAVVessFZ_jb1I6fXf_2nIDL7h8Z1ly2XFrCFa5zGilvZRKA3NCvChZNVEXMy7cy4lowHJS2FZFJvfayCJ2l-yLSHoTNvUORTE1Xno6z8M9dDbp8F03cCzbPjg/s200/matt+wedding+186.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5616252887147983554" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLxGjyoFLDQqm8TMk781LvFgOodxeRD3UB9HHpiiQlFzV46ZdtChBRZq4xcKT_9jwdZ8utb_vurO7N1RMlX6XfcZftkGwYOMN_5qE_DJveE9q3YfGK9Qpj8P8v1hzF2L1P3T0oCfzHSOs/s1600/matt+wedding+185.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLxGjyoFLDQqm8TMk781LvFgOodxeRD3UB9HHpiiQlFzV46ZdtChBRZq4xcKT_9jwdZ8utb_vurO7N1RMlX6XfcZftkGwYOMN_5qE_DJveE9q3YfGK9Qpj8P8v1hzF2L1P3T0oCfzHSOs/s200/matt+wedding+185.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5616252547816767954" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmmGZdOUVylpsWNS-rdZpP3uovnjQOoP9NKYAmA-saSrQ_XLeM5BEO_kHOMQ7eRo_3pFK91Vla45_PveT8QFWfNxm1mY1uV4qYbpIRFHDoBa6ESkdG6ks8mz5HgdpIamiUY0sBeIB6t4k/s1600/matt+wedding+184.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmmGZdOUVylpsWNS-rdZpP3uovnjQOoP9NKYAmA-saSrQ_XLeM5BEO_kHOMQ7eRo_3pFK91Vla45_PveT8QFWfNxm1mY1uV4qYbpIRFHDoBa6ESkdG6ks8mz5HgdpIamiUY0sBeIB6t4k/s200/matt+wedding+184.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5616252136351382290" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwRfsb5K3CXMYm4LjzoCL2KmKyY2KVt9FQJbQiamMvbrdvHRef7T_mdKxsy-LahNi7lBC03T0qqLy14wTV7zxHF4PEWrLbrCEXm_gIT210styJi5N3vszgmwVa2qJyPyTQGYqf3kWgf4w/s1600/matt+wedding+183.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwRfsb5K3CXMYm4LjzoCL2KmKyY2KVt9FQJbQiamMvbrdvHRef7T_mdKxsy-LahNi7lBC03T0qqLy14wTV7zxHF4PEWrLbrCEXm_gIT210styJi5N3vszgmwVa2qJyPyTQGYqf3kWgf4w/s200/matt+wedding+183.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5616251806019167314" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1OIJ-TQDGT04wx9fossM1I85LZYD2OkU1EWx59f79iFKZL5xxKoaY2UW27ILoLg3MzYr_e3bd3FNpp2VvxSurx_7AbnAYOh-cOvtVBblQGm50JD1EkIGKphW1lw67beLwKxFLZ80NbZI/s1600/matt+wedding+224.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1OIJ-TQDGT04wx9fossM1I85LZYD2OkU1EWx59f79iFKZL5xxKoaY2UW27ILoLg3MzYr_e3bd3FNpp2VvxSurx_7AbnAYOh-cOvtVBblQGm50JD1EkIGKphW1lw67beLwKxFLZ80NbZI/s200/matt+wedding+224.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5616251270061381426" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijYvKJHoBuIuHf_Y_fPlUScvWp9hdoQifaUQdvdP4Y4MNJJzz4gKKPnRE5EScCZLcqIqVMALgNHaHU_wmZM5hpAE7qZXLQUX5seaUSFGERSiFJ5GT6MYM3evKNKe_ZWJNN7FnVg2MXUnM/s1600/matt+wedding+143.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijYvKJHoBuIuHf_Y_fPlUScvWp9hdoQifaUQdvdP4Y4MNJJzz4gKKPnRE5EScCZLcqIqVMALgNHaHU_wmZM5hpAE7qZXLQUX5seaUSFGERSiFJ5GT6MYM3evKNKe_ZWJNN7FnVg2MXUnM/s200/matt+wedding+143.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5616250764713826322" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2Vt_GvT3PqIkEEDkQ24oOQkpjWPW9DqisfQzoCqezQTT5clincRKwUyhhtnGM2WI3toAyDxN5irBncSrwH3xg8F5XwswhgNsQVFDi7huCMYgTwaMKnvNK_e7uPCQROFbN8fUp0_kr5DI/s1600/matt+wedding+146.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2Vt_GvT3PqIkEEDkQ24oOQkpjWPW9DqisfQzoCqezQTT5clincRKwUyhhtnGM2WI3toAyDxN5irBncSrwH3xg8F5XwswhgNsQVFDi7huCMYgTwaMKnvNK_e7uPCQROFbN8fUp0_kr5DI/s200/matt+wedding+146.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5616250232095638658" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3mth62LaDJ9am8bCCcR-P1l_7gcoRD_c-CNsR_O9fdUJKLNweORfpRkYhCEAbZOwNHhCS1HlfHj54avya0sE-H9UsMA4Tii_ilqqB1sZG_ahGSebYD21I1a0swKlt9ECG_k1G7BX-t_M/s1600/matt+wedding+104.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3mth62LaDJ9am8bCCcR-P1l_7gcoRD_c-CNsR_O9fdUJKLNweORfpRkYhCEAbZOwNHhCS1HlfHj54avya0sE-H9UsMA4Tii_ilqqB1sZG_ahGSebYD21I1a0swKlt9ECG_k1G7BX-t_M/s200/matt+wedding+104.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5616249408325888178" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPU4aJdZHno1WXi8k9UMSPTLdC0q_ml1xKPuhYZWfLHxtOExdNhMLCw7x2fAnTPgUMjCMHqb6S8z6vICL9ryrAsiRXglfsd8297I24N9HcL_-BXl_Fu8NvvwjNuL17TTOd6hFrj1wUUCg/s1600/matt+wedding+272.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPU4aJdZHno1WXi8k9UMSPTLdC0q_ml1xKPuhYZWfLHxtOExdNhMLCw7x2fAnTPgUMjCMHqb6S8z6vICL9ryrAsiRXglfsd8297I24N9HcL_-BXl_Fu8NvvwjNuL17TTOd6hFrj1wUUCg/s200/matt+wedding+272.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5616247425225564690" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8mT3et3GLuHlu0XtBrgM5TZA2LWCVPay28sD2g2aCRwZXu9lf-GZxtuxOl4H4x-SRIjyjOcwqLdBJpkOh9Uu70F_fg0UoueP1ibaLrpr1M2M0KOrEfFRZhlqvrMiaQernB5rxhpvNAI4/s1600/matt+wedding+262.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8mT3et3GLuHlu0XtBrgM5TZA2LWCVPay28sD2g2aCRwZXu9lf-GZxtuxOl4H4x-SRIjyjOcwqLdBJpkOh9Uu70F_fg0UoueP1ibaLrpr1M2M0KOrEfFRZhlqvrMiaQernB5rxhpvNAI4/s200/matt+wedding+262.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5616246963684527250" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYkEy4WYlsvvQ2hCFPxGj_x1D66jlTvUQM0R75VolkKmhea-r53qOAo6br8BGVZsoV2gclON0iulKCa0ZRyx2Ui6QZTBKQYHxAWb1vXO7abbz334khMti7CsYZV4xYzj7eCEB3JRZ9eaQ/s1600/matt+wedding+269.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYkEy4WYlsvvQ2hCFPxGj_x1D66jlTvUQM0R75VolkKmhea-r53qOAo6br8BGVZsoV2gclON0iulKCa0ZRyx2Ui6QZTBKQYHxAWb1vXO7abbz334khMti7CsYZV4xYzj7eCEB3JRZ9eaQ/s200/matt+wedding+269.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5616245976545626306" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNPJfIaBKbm0hzQldn0MrJML-126jcajSCzyxAtyqDmmiMD6hBkqrib1rGM9r7DJ7-lqyaY3DV1zFfQgn47bnLf1E-QUprzWb5nbK387_2H_LBNpHpHGHUmBwCJusRLCk6PJFoPHoBzoU/s1600/matt+wedding+081.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNPJfIaBKbm0hzQldn0MrJML-126jcajSCzyxAtyqDmmiMD6hBkqrib1rGM9r7DJ7-lqyaY3DV1zFfQgn47bnLf1E-QUprzWb5nbK387_2H_LBNpHpHGHUmBwCJusRLCk6PJFoPHoBzoU/s200/matt+wedding+081.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5616244508877196706" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipE6n8-XORFR15m_lodYTPGZhp7lDdhA27TZWR6GylBSxP6CCnldP-mT6_ZhewIQpfOnAGobLzrpDkrzCVL2tel2zK6znSa-k1CIM90SSJFzHoPBF21IbkeM77EJ4lYeQoO9ls8Cfrg68/s1600/matt+wedding+076.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipE6n8-XORFR15m_lodYTPGZhp7lDdhA27TZWR6GylBSxP6CCnldP-mT6_ZhewIQpfOnAGobLzrpDkrzCVL2tel2zK6znSa-k1CIM90SSJFzHoPBF21IbkeM77EJ4lYeQoO9ls8Cfrg68/s200/matt+wedding+076.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5616243905245615810" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9tCBx33DhwTNQZTtBeSVHJo6JOwRJAVrRBni6BTdr8EFhIJ3oiEGF8MQIHka8KFAs4wMcAcxIwGmkAcmvCCUqY8DyT_Z_jS_gyQNGJSrQyN8Tzm8Mj23t-W2WzZsA66Sh_jDXcG0HT70/s1600/matt+wedding+065.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9tCBx33DhwTNQZTtBeSVHJo6JOwRJAVrRBni6BTdr8EFhIJ3oiEGF8MQIHka8KFAs4wMcAcxIwGmkAcmvCCUqY8DyT_Z_jS_gyQNGJSrQyN8Tzm8Mj23t-W2WzZsA66Sh_jDXcG0HT70/s200/matt+wedding+065.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5616242998896720866" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSJsmh8DEheDBFwuHzVmm_DCldaJlsQVtLPnsh2GpqfOPvvLpc-H5lTE1klB3ELFJQ3YLIW98j86U0eFri9Gh3afCIOEcIny2Si-cWMN-iY-18rbgBnkGgkDrIKeQpAWPoV6ROR3LRUK4/s1600/matt+wedding+052.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSJsmh8DEheDBFwuHzVmm_DCldaJlsQVtLPnsh2GpqfOPvvLpc-H5lTE1klB3ELFJQ3YLIW98j86U0eFri9Gh3afCIOEcIny2Si-cWMN-iY-18rbgBnkGgkDrIKeQpAWPoV6ROR3LRUK4/s200/matt+wedding+052.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5616242500497653586" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9fHPk7SIu6eja0tjNBxP8QQdPZY-ofjYbo7uP1B_SHzDrKErCPo3mqNfiznGde3TQgyJhCsf1gx8NTc3sagCpEXTtKW8-NC2qBXUJWUOY3RCqPwI1wQdtIY6O7tnZ_VRkTHvbgrBBmXc/s1600/matt+wedding+050.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9fHPk7SIu6eja0tjNBxP8QQdPZY-ofjYbo7uP1B_SHzDrKErCPo3mqNfiznGde3TQgyJhCsf1gx8NTc3sagCpEXTtKW8-NC2qBXUJWUOY3RCqPwI1wQdtIY6O7tnZ_VRkTHvbgrBBmXc/s200/matt+wedding+050.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5616241855764628178" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK4GDPG5UsaiOlDOaUG4UeDdwkqzdApwEWelZdc-qf4qwS-0E6nuisAW3C8E3Y4gmMPlG7rfNj5GGthljdbEezgl49mYHNVsPH9jLjtsP86t7jF9591E-gJIFWHHbXjuoHuqyZmMX1d5M/s1600/matt+wedding+043.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK4GDPG5UsaiOlDOaUG4UeDdwkqzdApwEWelZdc-qf4qwS-0E6nuisAW3C8E3Y4gmMPlG7rfNj5GGthljdbEezgl49mYHNVsPH9jLjtsP86t7jF9591E-gJIFWHHbXjuoHuqyZmMX1d5M/s200/matt+wedding+043.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5616241445410461442" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibHvf2m8oyCMPx-0o9IhDnmshAPxCdHpbcEfPxUdx6kv3eCvEzIsl94VwmGaTZKYYcHcel39DgWwBnnmYXIcXiQ_7-ij6R6hs5Da_Y0uUP7k2CczuhsTNOp2HZ8tzuPA78W4S7c3tPPCY/s1600/matt+wedding+018.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibHvf2m8oyCMPx-0o9IhDnmshAPxCdHpbcEfPxUdx6kv3eCvEzIsl94VwmGaTZKYYcHcel39DgWwBnnmYXIcXiQ_7-ij6R6hs5Da_Y0uUP7k2CczuhsTNOp2HZ8tzuPA78W4S7c3tPPCY/s200/matt+wedding+018.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5616240940674006546" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPPmynGnpo-hH8HQF1DICSpjRj5XwB-cnG4M9VnRvWGWqcoVEuzeYNl7utn3TLsZzpYVgHYJj_4B5ah78RG3C8BHmA35cmLhWMAL6MHTtG-l83vSFwVbMOj0wsb1uN38jSUlm59-lMaIU/s1600/matt+wedding+032.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPPmynGnpo-hH8HQF1DICSpjRj5XwB-cnG4M9VnRvWGWqcoVEuzeYNl7utn3TLsZzpYVgHYJj_4B5ah78RG3C8BHmA35cmLhWMAL6MHTtG-l83vSFwVbMOj0wsb1uN38jSUlm59-lMaIU/s200/matt+wedding+032.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5616240564368329682" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVXORAoiOh-BHg2GLO8e5GR4gsMPIV7-D7CblPi4_6g5OS_93LxI5LJrrA22itjAjyCDilg8u_0xuYUrfmQKUiNKDHldSpkF7ub3nttkzbHA-N6GNCuruTx0XHmkSfDK5Y62pzh517LwA/s1600/matt+wedding+012.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVXORAoiOh-BHg2GLO8e5GR4gsMPIV7-D7CblPi4_6g5OS_93LxI5LJrrA22itjAjyCDilg8u_0xuYUrfmQKUiNKDHldSpkF7ub3nttkzbHA-N6GNCuruTx0XHmkSfDK5Y62pzh517LwA/s200/matt+wedding+012.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5616240048680200450" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgX3eA3Xfe0BQ9InM5NGqF-C5Qdrow0pAKb9x5FRrLu_SSwfLHdMv3DHZhj1TKlhqEYpXeqj9xaTaJiSV97UfaJzNY4pCioJ_9K8VDkXjBh9MjhJNrR0Zx2GGH74tRnFM2KF0jttuyGCXI/s1600/matt+wedding+025.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgX3eA3Xfe0BQ9InM5NGqF-C5Qdrow0pAKb9x5FRrLu_SSwfLHdMv3DHZhj1TKlhqEYpXeqj9xaTaJiSV97UfaJzNY4pCioJ_9K8VDkXjBh9MjhJNrR0Zx2GGH74tRnFM2KF0jttuyGCXI/s200/matt+wedding+025.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5616239585177841298" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihSPygwJtRnG0HiTp7XaJieKi7TDG9fX-npPAcLQO6-9BNgIcBkjvUsLECUR5TEetuOrqzowiXqQfUNgKQW4EMSvS1TdtEafZXfCcZ1hHwl88kOZTo0FPZwAcZXTGDa7gh4TZjPzEYlU0/s1600/matt+wedding+017.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihSPygwJtRnG0HiTp7XaJieKi7TDG9fX-npPAcLQO6-9BNgIcBkjvUsLECUR5TEetuOrqzowiXqQfUNgKQW4EMSvS1TdtEafZXfCcZ1hHwl88kOZTo0FPZwAcZXTGDa7gh4TZjPzEYlU0/s200/matt+wedding+017.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5616239107428314418" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7MLOo2SE58nJqXCl2_qbiFJpU2-kuvxxcxsi8Pf6mYUPvn8sSJWAm5JQL6a9GgQ4XLw0tLLKAhMc1jEGtVWp0I1FX4QRHEFP_hAbB-oQlE24IPNVwp3zeFQs5M2zDse7kDHDDWpxXD3c/s1600/matt+wedding+008.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7MLOo2SE58nJqXCl2_qbiFJpU2-kuvxxcxsi8Pf6mYUPvn8sSJWAm5JQL6a9GgQ4XLw0tLLKAhMc1jEGtVWp0I1FX4QRHEFP_hAbB-oQlE24IPNVwp3zeFQs5M2zDse7kDHDDWpxXD3c/s200/matt+wedding+008.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5616238207014661282" /></a><br />On Thursday May 26th 2011 Pam my wife and I found ourselves on a Southwest airline flight to Sacramento California. Matt, my son, and his lovely wife to be, Stephanie, after many hours of planning and much money spent on their part were ready to be married in ,California. Someone might ask why pick this part of the country to be married and the answer comes as soon as one drives through the countryside. The rolling hills remind me of a heavy oat meal colored quilt that has fallen off of a bed during the night. The tall grass growing out of these hills sways with the changing wind. Every few miles driven in our car brought more beauty in the form of grape vines and large orchards. At the end of the grape vine rows the farmers had planted brightly colored rose bushes. This description doesn't do justice to this region of California but it certainly was a great place for a fantastic wedding.<br /><br /> Matt and Stephanie had spent hours and days planning out their special day all the way from Australia where they live no and the three days went off without a hitch. First on the agenda was a wine tour of the region that would be accompanied by lunch at a vineyard. Pam and I drove into the parking lot of the Crossroads complex that would be the main event center for the wedding. Many friends and relatives were to meet here and climb aboard a tour bus for our journey through the countryside and a chance to talk with some of our new relatives and old friends. Within a few minutes of our driving into an empty parking lot, the space around our tour bus was filled with talking and laughter from the this happy group. <br /><br /> With everybody on board the bus, the driver led us through the world of wine making. After a few turns and miles of black road behind us, we arrived at a picture perfect winery. The buildings looked like a scene from nItalian movie with large stucco covered walls that had red tile roofs protecting the structures. Our happy group found our way into the the main reception and wine tasting room. One of the biggest treats was the many flavoured vinegars and olive oils on a large table. Then we all walked to the tree sheltered picnic tables for our lunches and plenty of wine. After eating some of the party walked around the grounds while others played a game of buchie ball.<br /><br /> Then we all loaded back on the bus with Raven Wood winery in our sights. The winery has been in the same family since 1850's and we could tell that our host was very proud to be there. He gave out sample after sample of different wines and explained the tastes. The three different samples of the dirt found around the vineyards was very interesting to me. Billions of years ago when volcanos were active the eruptions had rained down thousands of feet of ash. Right under our feet was 1,500 feet of the fertile stuff that the grapes loved to absorb into their roots.<br /><br /> With a few glasses of wine under our belts it was time for the wedding rehearsal back at the Cross Roads. As the van pulled out of the parking lot, the main wedding party found our way into the gardens for the activites. The wedding would take place in a grassed section that was flanked by a winding stream and a pond covered with lily pads. A tree covered walk way would be our runway for the wedding party. After a few minutes of making sure everything was in place it was time to eat and drink again.<br /><br /> The rehearsal dinner was staged at a Italian restaurant in Sonoma that catered to our every need. Gallons of wine flowed and lots of Italian food was served. Matt and Stephanie had a made a slide show representing there life in Australia and there lives growing up. While we ate piles of spaghetti and many pizza pies, the activites and conversations continued through the night.<br /><br /> Friday May 27th Wedding day// We all woke to rain with a hope of clear weather hopefully around the corner. Matt had arranged for the men of the wedding party to get massages at Lodge in Sonoma. It would be a first for me personally and what a pleasant surprise it turned out to be. Our party all arrived with the looks of wonderment as the lobby of the bath house opened up to us. The soft sound of music and smell of brightly colored flowers filled the air. After dressing in a thick cloth robe we headed to our appointed guest rooms with our muses as our guide. I can't speak for the rest of the group since we were all in our seperate rooms but I found it very relaxing and found it a wonderful way to start a special time for Matt and Stephanie's wedding. The deep tissue massage felt like I was having 60 years of aches and pains pushed from my body. Then we all headed to the soothing hot tubs and a chance for the men to gather our thoughts about the important event about to unfold.<br /><br /> Matt had ordered suits from Hong Kong made by a French tailor, that proved to be the only way to go. Months before all of us had to get measured or measure our selves and send these measurements to Hong Kong, with the thought in the back of our minds, did I measure right. When we tried on our matching suits all doubts disappeared, they fit very well. We metin Matt's room to drink a little champagne and look over the suits and their fit. After a few pictures it was time to head back to the Cross Roads for the ceremony.<br /><br /> The skies had cleared and the weather was picture perfect for the ceremony. A walkway of rose petals led up to the professor from Davis College that would preside over the wedding. Matt had graduated from Davis and the professor had helped Matt write the graduation speech that he gave a few years back. Everyone had successfully walked into the area for the wedding and all eyes were on Stephanie and her breath taking dress. Stephanie didn't seem the least bit nervous and laughed and smiled during the whole ceremony. Matt also joined in with jubilance that the day had to offer. It seemed like seconds and the first ceremony was over. The second event was the tea ceremony which is a Chinese tradition where the elders sit before the newely wedded. The happy couple serve a tea and the elders present an envelope with money in even amount for good luck. The ceremony was very interesting with all the elders from both sides of the family drinking tea and wishing the couple luck.<br /><br /> Drinks were then served and conversations about the wedding and Stephanie's beautiful dress were exchanged. Within a short distance a great white tent had been erected to hold the dinner and the toasting. A long table holding roasted chicken and prime beef stood outside the tent. After everyone had enjoyed their meals except for Matt and Stephanie who were the perfect hosts with their journey around the numerous tables. My younger son Geoff, the best man,gave a well presented speech which still brings a tear to my eye.<br /><br /> A short walk to the barn is where the wedding party would be found for a few hours of dancing, singing, drinking and eating cupcakes. I didn't want the evening to end EVER but at 11:00 pm the plug was pulled on the band and after burning up the dance floor the evening came to a happy ending.<br /><br /> Saturday May 28th A brunch was to be held at a restaurant in Sonoma and it turned out to be a special place to eat food and say good bye to some very old friends and some very new friends and relatives. The food again was top notch with lots of it being served. <br /> Back at the Lodge a long lost relative from my mom's side showed up and they had some old photo's that they wanted my mom to identify. After a few hours of talking with Jimmy, my new found relative, Pam and I found our wedding party and said our goodbyes. Matt and Stephanie had to catch a plane back to Australia.<br /><br /> Sunday May 29th. Pam and I had plans on driving to Lake Tahoe from Sacremento except the area recieved 8 inches of snow. Our bodies needed a bit of rest so a shorter plan came to mind, a road trip to a old mining town of Auburn. It was just a hour a way from the airport which Pam needed for her flight home to Denver. We got to see the sights and Pam got to do some window shopping in this town, before the time came to drive to the airport.<br /><br /> Monday May 30th Now that one of the most important days of my life was past Matt's wedding, I needed a back packing trip in Northern California. On the 24.6 mile Lost Coast Trail that travels along the rugged coast of California, where vehicles can't venture. North of Garberville the 101 highway travels inland off the coast, because the mountains are to steep to build a road. I drove to Garberville that morning with relative ease, on the famous 101 highway. My next plan was to drive the 35 miles to Black Sand Beach trailhead. The road was so twisty turny it took me over a hour to drive 35 miles. I arrived in the parking lot and looked around at all the cars waiting for their passengers to arrive off the trail. Numerous vehicles had been dropped here as their owners drove north to Mattole to start the walk. It was the tail end of the Memorial day weekend and the hikers started to unload their packs into their cars. My cousin Paul and his friend John where driving down form Oregon and would join me on this hike. I would leave my car here and then Paul would drive us north. the road down to Mattole was just as twisty turny as the Black Sand beach road. We drove up to the company store just before they closed at 3:00 pm. The BLM rangers require all hikers to carry a bear barrel that would hold our food as we walked for a couple of days. the barrels are bear proof and it keeps the hungry critters from carrying away the goodies from our packs. The store rents the barrels for $5.00, which is a great price.<br /><br /> We drove the short distance to the trail head and loaded our barrels with food. Maps and rain proof clothing was checked and rechecked and then we where ready to head out. The skies where clear for about 30 minutes then sand started to be blown into our eyes, nose and evetything unprotected. John put a mask over his face, to block the sand and I thought we had entered the world of Lawrence of Arabia. Then within minutes the cold rain started right out of the south in our faces, which a ranger had told us never blows out of the south. A set of old cabins was a perfect place to stop and figure out what was happening to our little group of hikers. Paul walked up the deserted looking cabin with a door half open and a man was sitting at a table with his face in his hands wondering the same thing.<br /><br /> After fighting the wind and rain for another hour we came to a deserted light house. This light house was so remote even when it was in working order it was called the Alcatraz of light houses. Winter winds and cold rain is common and the norm all year long. We all walked up to the generator building with the hope of a dry spot out of the wind for shelter. A couple of fellow hikers had beat us to the punch. Next stop would be the light house itself, which didn't have a window or doors left to block the wind. The building itself did offer some shelter from the wind and the rain let up for a hour or so. Paul and I set up our tents and I walked down to the generator building to talk with the hikers. They had been walking all day but wanted to continue onto the Mattole trailhead. We filled our minds with hiking stories as we filled our stomachs with food. When both was filled, the two young hikers gathered up their packs and headed out into the rain storm. Paul and John joined me and John decided he might just sleep in the building. By 9:00 pm Paul and I headed to our tents.<br /><br /> May 31st It rained and blew all night long. John not feeling comfortable in the building set his tent up in the rain and sleep down below the light house. The skies looked like they wanted to clear and we could see a little blue mixed with the grey skies. A group of Harbor Seals joined our group as they lay on the rocks just off shore. The trail is always with in sight of the ocean and it changes like the weather. It can go from soft sand, to tiny rocks, to boulder rocks, to tall grassy decorated with wild flowers within a few minutes of the walk. The ocean was always on our right and tall steep mountains where on our left. A occassional stream would come cascading down the steep slopes as it headed to the ocean. Some of the stream because of all the rain where wide and deep. Hiker had made all types of bridges that gapped the streams. Large rocks that where connected to washed up drift wood, anything was fair game for the hikers to use. Dead ocean critters that had lost it's battle with the never ending waves was also to be found along the beach. <br /><br /> Do to the steep mountains coming down to the beach and high tides the trail in 8 miles of it length can only be crossed at low tide. We had a tide schedule but had looked at the wrong page and thought high tide was at 10:30 am, so we only had a 1.5 hours to walk 4 miles. It made for a very fast section and didn't notice our mistake until it was lunch time and we reread the tide table. Our spot for lunch along a stream away from the ocean was ideal for drying out our wet tents and cloths.<br /><br /> After lunch we came to a older cabin with a giant whale weather vane. I walked up to the private cabin with camera in hand to take a picture of the steel whale and a couple of old seaman where sitting at a window facing the ocean but out of the wind. Our destination for tonight camping spot was called Miller Flat with a huge flat area divided by a fast moving stream. a landing strip for a small airplane lay in front of a couple of beach homes, that looked like Hansel and Gretal lived there in the summer. <br /><br /> By 5:00 pm we crossed our last stream for today and it was bit of a challenge with logs rocks as our bridge. We found a camping spot in a group of trees and black soft sand was our base. I hadn't seen any bear signs as we walked so I thought the bear treat might be like the Big Foot story, when Paul found a bear track and John found bear scat. That was just after I had said, " I don't think we have to worry about bears!" We loaded up with water for our camp and gathered food for a fire. Then we ate dinner and did a bit of exploring around camp. By 9:00 it was time for me to check my eye lids for cracks. At 10:00 pm Paul and John came up to my tent and said they had seen a small black bear walking around the camp. I had seen my fair share of bears in the past and my sleeping bag felt very comfortable, so I didn't even batt a eye, I just rolled over.<br /><br /> June 1st All during the night I could hear rain showers and wind blowing around the camp area. When first light appeared I noticed a little bit of the mositure had worked it's way into my tent, I wasn't the Lone Ranger either. John's tent had major design flaw since it had turned into a small wading pool. Paul's tent had small hole and the rain had invited it's way into his sleeping space. Everything and everybody was soaked but we only had 8 miles to walk and we could see the end. Paul kept looking at the skies with a hopefull eye and it must have worked because the sun did come out.<br /><br /> For these two days we have been playing dodge wave with the incoming tide and finally after all the times of near missed encounters the ocean won. All three of us were walking and talking with the end of the trail in sight when a wave came crashing down and white foamy water came lapping towards of shoes. We must of looked like the Three Stooges as we ran into each other to get out of the way, but in the end the ocean did win with salty soaked shoes as a result.<br /><br /> With Black Sand under our water logged shoes we walked up to the trailhead and loaded our packs into my rental car for the drive back to Mattole. We only had enough time to get back before the store closed at 5:30 pm and with some crazy driving I was able to get back with 15 fifteen minutes to spare.<br /><br /> We checked into a family room at the Garberville Motel and found a restaurant to have some home cooked food. We found out from the owner of the restaurant, most people move to Garberville to get out of the real world and not be bothered with drivers licenses, income tax and goverement in general.<br /><br /> June 2nd Paul and John had to drive back to Oregon and I headed to the Shasta Mountain area. I visited Trinity Lake, Whiskytown Lake and Shasta Lake and hope to come back to these some day with my canoe and fishing pole.<br /><br /> I had great time with the wedding and my backpacking and I think I could become a professional wedding crasher it was that musch fun!!vince vogelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09409914685847755131noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-113513403868397494.post-87628359266194229792011-04-20T07:18:00.000-07:002014-02-07T14:00:02.861-08:00Grand Gulch & Lake Powell Utah /2011<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibJBRKOWxVNvTtuVEquXkvJMDfDk-DgL0prRBXseiufJI9wLnVhY7Y8Hka-_P4kM_Y9Wrzrp7gJGtz0xEndMjgMWQl5nI4tqmIF-37MzCgidKU1B59RgpAOUVocuTvls7Lh1_Yvb74vXo/s1600/100_6637.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibJBRKOWxVNvTtuVEquXkvJMDfDk-DgL0prRBXseiufJI9wLnVhY7Y8Hka-_P4kM_Y9Wrzrp7gJGtz0xEndMjgMWQl5nI4tqmIF-37MzCgidKU1B59RgpAOUVocuTvls7Lh1_Yvb74vXo/s400/100_6637.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597790939614839122" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC3ZxtCiIdGEBT8t75uA1BdXoMa6T3zET8iWzABnNd7wNcqF7Cd0FjLwe-nstrxUEWcpGjN0XoOQI2GJgbE5RaQUdQnI5QcoMss-lda7_tTE6QLOrTY8HmQPN68uQYoBLe0_vd9nVzONc/s1600/100_6642.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC3ZxtCiIdGEBT8t75uA1BdXoMa6T3zET8iWzABnNd7wNcqF7Cd0FjLwe-nstrxUEWcpGjN0XoOQI2GJgbE5RaQUdQnI5QcoMss-lda7_tTE6QLOrTY8HmQPN68uQYoBLe0_vd9nVzONc/s200/100_6642.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597790545734097442" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_p9w2QezGWUyvMtAk3S6kBIvYRk7za3KbkLCbs7fMgJ3qed701u4oljh0fSpSlXRi2DRjEKnwtTkIrXmVcbyDvwzPqhjVIWMLa6CDGpSOObS7e6_DxR5rRX2PAHChtiXDHPr0Tfss6wk/s1600/100_6650.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_p9w2QezGWUyvMtAk3S6kBIvYRk7za3KbkLCbs7fMgJ3qed701u4oljh0fSpSlXRi2DRjEKnwtTkIrXmVcbyDvwzPqhjVIWMLa6CDGpSOObS7e6_DxR5rRX2PAHChtiXDHPr0Tfss6wk/s200/100_6650.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597790111426302322" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVAuEl89PaKZ_ELpAeyaAaOUf6VsrqNhyrsqfL-EOfhcHvvTQ9SFqoWFFomJFv9wKwAptxkqsAW9SMASFtusjoO_F77SBkwvmpJRZX_lT3yyFLZ5hVA6C7bb1felcsOHvZZaj4Fbju7SM/s1600/100_6646.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVAuEl89PaKZ_ELpAeyaAaOUf6VsrqNhyrsqfL-EOfhcHvvTQ9SFqoWFFomJFv9wKwAptxkqsAW9SMASFtusjoO_F77SBkwvmpJRZX_lT3yyFLZ5hVA6C7bb1felcsOHvZZaj4Fbju7SM/s200/100_6646.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597789119821570370" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2mvwykA2RRZBR28Dwueys79Ne-DVM2lL1WREUJu0ez2-bWkpNvpPSQZ_m_70usuXUYD2v2_VeZSOyKWdK5_h6zXXHkZQVIDFFw7TV789YQFXaBg_vUuQ9VGWWKxHYvnZuEMeP3t-HrT0/s1600/100_6645.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2mvwykA2RRZBR28Dwueys79Ne-DVM2lL1WREUJu0ez2-bWkpNvpPSQZ_m_70usuXUYD2v2_VeZSOyKWdK5_h6zXXHkZQVIDFFw7TV789YQFXaBg_vUuQ9VGWWKxHYvnZuEMeP3t-HrT0/s200/100_6645.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597788931200819954" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_25Vof8UETOfeTP4pQ1vRyg0UVfrD1jumO0AUDLfP7FSnBZ8StJ1-1soUjeJCE2X7mdwj2Lo82G8HhaThzLhFaBEnwVqMGv1DOpKefC-Ex8f61aHApTjxENC4uYBWHUEhtdyl-MPDCyk/s1600/100_6654.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_25Vof8UETOfeTP4pQ1vRyg0UVfrD1jumO0AUDLfP7FSnBZ8StJ1-1soUjeJCE2X7mdwj2Lo82G8HhaThzLhFaBEnwVqMGv1DOpKefC-Ex8f61aHApTjxENC4uYBWHUEhtdyl-MPDCyk/s200/100_6654.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597788760489908594" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEbKilYwgT6myFASgD0Ldgu7PQ5ostV70f2QxUTroDyttDL9sXSCskDwkUEwHOWO_Ps6YsMOftNiFsjs6xX9tNQ-mB6tCRx2hvEPKVIpQNvavyQEDcf1MFow9pyCZaNyyp7-PtQTJwa50/s1600/100_6665.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEbKilYwgT6myFASgD0Ldgu7PQ5ostV70f2QxUTroDyttDL9sXSCskDwkUEwHOWO_Ps6YsMOftNiFsjs6xX9tNQ-mB6tCRx2hvEPKVIpQNvavyQEDcf1MFow9pyCZaNyyp7-PtQTJwa50/s200/100_6665.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597788624660480434" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgetrZK3vbfCV2C_IkIFThaLplJRZxQOdIT1zM8CnS_OEOEon7GRSf-ft0HCanqeTLd3vU4_zXlK63ngT202rANITCGxrmo6KP8fxYCTGmfD7m1AZ6lt3trcAHWUA_K_Ho4TlW6dMiO5wY/s1600/100_6669.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgetrZK3vbfCV2C_IkIFThaLplJRZxQOdIT1zM8CnS_OEOEon7GRSf-ft0HCanqeTLd3vU4_zXlK63ngT202rANITCGxrmo6KP8fxYCTGmfD7m1AZ6lt3trcAHWUA_K_Ho4TlW6dMiO5wY/s200/100_6669.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597788403262555842" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja9UEZ_Jkl8xk6SR6A-RgcF36ZeOpOU8BwyqabNeziUJ656R9zjz12mpsMXURSdZTv-bck4RHjTxssrgDznwekoUoISAVEnHPAwcGzh4X47hlyvTRx79whx7eH3Us0S4S5U1ysrICzEPY/s1600/100_6671.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja9UEZ_Jkl8xk6SR6A-RgcF36ZeOpOU8BwyqabNeziUJ656R9zjz12mpsMXURSdZTv-bck4RHjTxssrgDznwekoUoISAVEnHPAwcGzh4X47hlyvTRx79whx7eH3Us0S4S5U1ysrICzEPY/s200/100_6671.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597788101752959730" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHBqUrpGGsZ6eY7rFPrvsCVfdlF6dx1nmXvlwfBPKqgg8qQJGI_VXAyiGHk6vPnNAn3QKq4gbn0Jzqd7oMCf5XNT-x78iQ-VnEoCqsfSqApqdDEPAGwk0Le3aL6oxdahAyuRSnb_PHt8I/s1600/100_6675.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHBqUrpGGsZ6eY7rFPrvsCVfdlF6dx1nmXvlwfBPKqgg8qQJGI_VXAyiGHk6vPnNAn3QKq4gbn0Jzqd7oMCf5XNT-x78iQ-VnEoCqsfSqApqdDEPAGwk0Le3aL6oxdahAyuRSnb_PHt8I/s200/100_6675.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597787874570370418" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzsJXH7N98YUW4-HBXVkbWKogHFNiFkrJ-iDxm_FgIziNmVTEEMy56nxdVRkk57BW8kty9BvWXEzVm8GpvKVaGodyPtZTSARwQeD0SGwBgFj_nqZlPpXE9AQzajRx80bJybxSDzbjQ_FQ/s1600/100_6677002.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzsJXH7N98YUW4-HBXVkbWKogHFNiFkrJ-iDxm_FgIziNmVTEEMy56nxdVRkk57BW8kty9BvWXEzVm8GpvKVaGodyPtZTSARwQeD0SGwBgFj_nqZlPpXE9AQzajRx80bJybxSDzbjQ_FQ/s200/100_6677002.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597787619297509826" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit1TgfLK3iMRVtXYC9ht8gqeJ3YD77fKjQu6vkPE8IB3PZsqnKGi9kahsXx6nL0EpbWpYny0KNu6e_FwEAS3x_70kdBWU52Wqz7nkesQtUmEMF3wlsaqgIHPBqynYLoNmi-7H2Hel66XY/s1600/100_6678002.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit1TgfLK3iMRVtXYC9ht8gqeJ3YD77fKjQu6vkPE8IB3PZsqnKGi9kahsXx6nL0EpbWpYny0KNu6e_FwEAS3x_70kdBWU52Wqz7nkesQtUmEMF3wlsaqgIHPBqynYLoNmi-7H2Hel66XY/s200/100_6678002.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597787466971074914" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8mGiG1TIqtkbQ6us3bw7lIYGoMr6MXdoXvLeYgtKBgDLmtGXeLGnF7_TXK9lBt6zH5A6PQSFdVECGHNUJk4-ty7HprIeXGN7zWMCdqtwbd8CLMIxccaxuBVgiVlTLoidnd_GuvzfYN80/s1600/100_6691002.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8mGiG1TIqtkbQ6us3bw7lIYGoMr6MXdoXvLeYgtKBgDLmtGXeLGnF7_TXK9lBt6zH5A6PQSFdVECGHNUJk4-ty7HprIeXGN7zWMCdqtwbd8CLMIxccaxuBVgiVlTLoidnd_GuvzfYN80/s200/100_6691002.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597787090659362082" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqXd7INap9mn7wMb3GlXAHb8r25fKeatsczJSH8qEKH6JBeIuLfEVfP4WOPLjc0t33MHxcL698hb6ck5NuFeFAhkCOkw1iKzMlrOjorHIVfKmb6-kg0n8OjrRSqmN6wQ8hV-ryDLMXPg4/s1600/100_6684002.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqXd7INap9mn7wMb3GlXAHb8r25fKeatsczJSH8qEKH6JBeIuLfEVfP4WOPLjc0t33MHxcL698hb6ck5NuFeFAhkCOkw1iKzMlrOjorHIVfKmb6-kg0n8OjrRSqmN6wQ8hV-ryDLMXPg4/s200/100_6684002.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597786811992515282" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJcp3W22R0ozn6L-0J4hWDWrsXz_16xEe4T8jEIZaZjOliIwnbXgjJcL6ekZM5T2pOSVTM2cVIigRDTBuSRbYwoLD00qnwSDiROslSbvvD_8plrL_2lduiZGt6-2pcsAOMofavD12TKkE/s1600/100_6694002.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJcp3W22R0ozn6L-0J4hWDWrsXz_16xEe4T8jEIZaZjOliIwnbXgjJcL6ekZM5T2pOSVTM2cVIigRDTBuSRbYwoLD00qnwSDiROslSbvvD_8plrL_2lduiZGt6-2pcsAOMofavD12TKkE/s200/100_6694002.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597786505634289826" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLgu1_yHT6Qcw1MvucgqH_Xx2ZAJBss8fFj0uWdfTbgPHWeBcPqPar9nBSNNC2i04qkBwVrfbXRGvb9cWO1f1mdjGjlPWDLxapQtEpM678MHjMJxSGhjnrjKaRUj4IA5gGPCiKzBGNa2E/s1600/100_6698002.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLgu1_yHT6Qcw1MvucgqH_Xx2ZAJBss8fFj0uWdfTbgPHWeBcPqPar9nBSNNC2i04qkBwVrfbXRGvb9cWO1f1mdjGjlPWDLxapQtEpM678MHjMJxSGhjnrjKaRUj4IA5gGPCiKzBGNa2E/s200/100_6698002.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597786284235932530" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgadKx9W8KvelKxukj5xHWKc8BPbIFvb9tZEejQATli-8FKKLn4Y94G1ClFgIRmyi51XS1YZNQnLqM4g3zzZBCP5wBOxpyv6q9kpf-QNuN3cfvxkO7HI3OIMY1O_fSI9u00D7hAGn8n6hc/s1600/100_6714002.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgadKx9W8KvelKxukj5xHWKc8BPbIFvb9tZEejQATli-8FKKLn4Y94G1ClFgIRmyi51XS1YZNQnLqM4g3zzZBCP5wBOxpyv6q9kpf-QNuN3cfvxkO7HI3OIMY1O_fSI9u00D7hAGn8n6hc/s200/100_6714002.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597786043672594130" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4DpZMMH_SYhF-ghfjlVYDTUNNDJiXYYSEeijv7LBc3_ffKV_3j_G3mg_6Lpq-ghf1FsxejOliDVxJW9Rvz77C69x6YN0I7hJrL79JHcio7QZGhlik0YXxqO9-DG-dwDFi24PTd4sOq44/s1600/100_6717002.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4DpZMMH_SYhF-ghfjlVYDTUNNDJiXYYSEeijv7LBc3_ffKV_3j_G3mg_6Lpq-ghf1FsxejOliDVxJW9Rvz77C69x6YN0I7hJrL79JHcio7QZGhlik0YXxqO9-DG-dwDFi24PTd4sOq44/s200/100_6717002.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597785844757885778" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3zsAhV-kSe3UtPNMHZyP6qOUYOJUaE9UhqyAQnAAYUyf_CEpReStDJrPpiPdOZCYGsaEP3qE98F4jkRFwYjyaQUmA8uTHUtWzyAV6Hplq2A4ayyVdAluc9nq2lBGoE_1oIhK0Pqim-Mo/s1600/100_6721002.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3zsAhV-kSe3UtPNMHZyP6qOUYOJUaE9UhqyAQnAAYUyf_CEpReStDJrPpiPdOZCYGsaEP3qE98F4jkRFwYjyaQUmA8uTHUtWzyAV6Hplq2A4ayyVdAluc9nq2lBGoE_1oIhK0Pqim-Mo/s200/100_6721002.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597785544865014850" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsqd8Zu3VsKrMMVRFAOx7hhixIFGvxSuZ5KKSRcp1Po7DuoMsqE7uBUQc7V92UrVVgN4qdjRqhDPt90TjaMbkXrxHc9Nre8JopZJRF_ywB8v8x5Ei3HNwmIFl_iUqCb7UjtwOZb1jHAVI/s1600/100_6732002.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsqd8Zu3VsKrMMVRFAOx7hhixIFGvxSuZ5KKSRcp1Po7DuoMsqE7uBUQc7V92UrVVgN4qdjRqhDPt90TjaMbkXrxHc9Nre8JopZJRF_ywB8v8x5Ei3HNwmIFl_iUqCb7UjtwOZb1jHAVI/s200/100_6732002.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597784982438382866" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfwn7r11Jc4N5N8L66Btrfc8J8zdG6gHkZNN-uhyphenhyphenTaACMmYvNrXygGD2Q0nM2O-Hef4gVFEDlhSkvS1oCPMIR46_Ng_E9o5C90g_r8m8g_lp4K4wJxmFtXPYUWyiJ0z__X0-xjL6Ke6q8/s1600/100_6745002.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfwn7r11Jc4N5N8L66Btrfc8J8zdG6gHkZNN-uhyphenhyphenTaACMmYvNrXygGD2Q0nM2O-Hef4gVFEDlhSkvS1oCPMIR46_Ng_E9o5C90g_r8m8g_lp4K4wJxmFtXPYUWyiJ0z__X0-xjL6Ke6q8/s200/100_6745002.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597784548864147362" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOBTVG_KUyXR066nqv6qOboZQSkbE73l6QyO10rTxFbGCbt8WJrqbDwUNp6Ic8MsZnCySnpwdo-3GMFMPFHo_EiP2R3VEKXHyI3Pe_9-v2IbGW8R-56vU4c0vp6crK7SE6DHygeHK58fs/s1600/100_6748002.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOBTVG_KUyXR066nqv6qOboZQSkbE73l6QyO10rTxFbGCbt8WJrqbDwUNp6Ic8MsZnCySnpwdo-3GMFMPFHo_EiP2R3VEKXHyI3Pe_9-v2IbGW8R-56vU4c0vp6crK7SE6DHygeHK58fs/s200/100_6748002.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597784335742742434" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPm4vnUrrIQGsNlD54Vh06LPRTBoMVm-dgvKb27cvkni89hFPSbh5UFZnzejDWy1fHxXG-oKO5vPk5OIpCg9qnSJq-cblM9pIRUx7B4fVrNjK_30j44Z_YXmj1qOh516JOCytWcbPgZDE/s1600/100_6749002.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPm4vnUrrIQGsNlD54Vh06LPRTBoMVm-dgvKb27cvkni89hFPSbh5UFZnzejDWy1fHxXG-oKO5vPk5OIpCg9qnSJq-cblM9pIRUx7B4fVrNjK_30j44Z_YXmj1qOh516JOCytWcbPgZDE/s200/100_6749002.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597783703249060306" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKDsBjQFLqL7yiDkDb38s7Pk5myWrpLkeJ6QfMm6iDJiOpXbwhyphenhyphenL5DHoZCuDJrr0ljVR01r95f-TzBR8ZefMjYWt_yMdM5JLxM4MuxrtnSvs-GLI0faFP8PCeQyw1M8MaTwMNGeE-zMO4/s1600/100_6759002.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKDsBjQFLqL7yiDkDb38s7Pk5myWrpLkeJ6QfMm6iDJiOpXbwhyphenhyphenL5DHoZCuDJrr0ljVR01r95f-TzBR8ZefMjYWt_yMdM5JLxM4MuxrtnSvs-GLI0faFP8PCeQyw1M8MaTwMNGeE-zMO4/s200/100_6759002.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597783075537074194" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBgzNtWEjDbK4Dt06e_AuAYu4acYOsTOxEasvxJj99WeNE7q-TjrPQmHSEzHTxdabaSwPe7yjfto0EXlVd-Ves1a3pVMtr4eM1_H_ufEKUQq4OKktCaHzGwBvbk0MnWQwzddQZ1j9XKsE/s1600/100_6760002.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBgzNtWEjDbK4Dt06e_AuAYu4acYOsTOxEasvxJj99WeNE7q-TjrPQmHSEzHTxdabaSwPe7yjfto0EXlVd-Ves1a3pVMtr4eM1_H_ufEKUQq4OKktCaHzGwBvbk0MnWQwzddQZ1j9XKsE/s200/100_6760002.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597782591765422738" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1YrWXGoojfovmVuU2T-3d4oV4rbVZPGHkd5bCFxxnOUjgk4yn4tcU7vVrbY7bvTjOx95RLhmxEhGWuCFJ37UdKBg6EOzqfCeGlv6QYCGETQddAgO6CaHrPywj30x3BXIS7V0jn47pDqk/s1600/100_6777002.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1YrWXGoojfovmVuU2T-3d4oV4rbVZPGHkd5bCFxxnOUjgk4yn4tcU7vVrbY7bvTjOx95RLhmxEhGWuCFJ37UdKBg6EOzqfCeGlv6QYCGETQddAgO6CaHrPywj30x3BXIS7V0jn47pDqk/s200/100_6777002.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597782184563509938" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4P3pW7XnZnnVMT-c2K9z65u8_F2vZwuaNVug3-ihRLMkjY_KBTdK3Kso-UG6o7d0yj4Zxh7kGABs_s5l0Vg63gIbw2z5uD-0NemCM25ZckPLyDOONog5PtGlWmXUyCB7xFSKG2rdmVg8/s1600/100_6764002.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4P3pW7XnZnnVMT-c2K9z65u8_F2vZwuaNVug3-ihRLMkjY_KBTdK3Kso-UG6o7d0yj4Zxh7kGABs_s5l0Vg63gIbw2z5uD-0NemCM25ZckPLyDOONog5PtGlWmXUyCB7xFSKG2rdmVg8/s200/100_6764002.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597780654315976930" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieZZQgzeGsL-qX-ZGQF80CPr38sRne28QroxNQNB-fT3PgpuaqNcWpAXTuwZOlHEFzRb0y5Kbh2tuaGPDaJgm8grgAVZtcw9XEoKDh7odVGsuODxRkzIpZeJyYMX2zX1F3WZVGQs_z2lg/s1600/100_6780002.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieZZQgzeGsL-qX-ZGQF80CPr38sRne28QroxNQNB-fT3PgpuaqNcWpAXTuwZOlHEFzRb0y5Kbh2tuaGPDaJgm8grgAVZtcw9XEoKDh7odVGsuODxRkzIpZeJyYMX2zX1F3WZVGQs_z2lg/s200/100_6780002.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597780005809478530" /></a><br />April 14th Double click pictures to make them larger-Thanks<br /> After a great deal of planning, Pam, Dave Guzy and I had our truck loaded with back pack equipment pointed towards Grand Gulch Utah. The Grand Gulch is a place like no other in the good old USA. It has more Anasazi ruins than anywhere else in the Southwest. It's like Mesa Verde on steroids, but at this site one can walk up to the sites and get a personal attachment to the surroundings. When you're down there it may seem like yesterday that the Anasazi left this place and moved to Arizona and became the Hopi and Pueblos tribes but it has been hundreds of years. The ruins have that kind of pull on your spirit.<br /> The Anasazi people inhabited Cedar Mesa in Grand Gulch between 850 AD and 1300 AD. They also lived in the surrounding Four Corners Area (Colorado, New mexico, Arizona, and utah) at the most famous residence, Mesa Verde and other locations in Chaco Canyon, Bandelier, Hovenweep, Canyon de Chelley, to name a few.<br /> The one thing common to all of the sites was corn, grown on the mesa tops, in moist canyon seeps. Anasazi corn was much smaller thanour corn of today, but it, along with beans and squash was highly nutritious. In August , fresh corn was gathered by the ancient ones to be roasted in fire pits or baked in outdoor ovens or stewed in boiling water. The first picked corn was dumped into earthen pits with hot embers and sealed over with earth to steam all day long.At feast time, the pits were opened and hot steaming corn on the cob was served to all. After the first feast of summer, women ground the shucked and roasted corn placed in stone metates and pulverized with stone manos into very fine meal ( unfortunately with bits of sandstone). This fine corn meal was stored for winter use when it was made into corn mush or a thin gruel that was served as a hot drink to ward off the cold dampness of the cliff dwellings. In autumn the corn was stored (mostly on the cob) in large storage chambers and later ground into a fine paste to be baked as corn bread sometimes mixed with pine nuts and served with roasted deer and /or bighorn sheep meat.Of course, not all years were plentiful and sometimes severe droughts lasted several years or more.<br /> It was never assumed that corn would grow in abundance year after year. Anasazi priests conducted ceremonies in underground kivas for corn to be successfully planted, for the corn to grow and mature, and for it to be harvested. Corn had to be offered in the six directions: North, West, South, East, and to the Sky above and the Earth below. It is no small coincidence that the Anasazi were blessed with six different colors of corn, each color representing a sacred direction: Yellow corn was offered to the North and blue to the West. Red corn was offered to the South, white to the East, speckled corn to the Sky and black corn to the Earth below.<br /> If sufficient rain did not fall on the growing crops, or unusually cold weather remained through the summer months, mankind was out of balance with nature. It was up to the priests to restore that balance. However, if bad weather persisted year after year, the people would no longer trust their priests and sometimes rebellions would occur.<br /> Religious belief and practice infused every aspect of life for the Anasazi, and it continues today for many of their Pueblo descendants. The kivas, or ceremonial chambers, were gathering places for ritual activity. There were ceremonies attached to every aspect of their lives from harvesting to road-making, from hospitality to controlling the forces of nature. The gods and spirits were called on through rituals to exercise their powers-grant blessings, provide protection, heal and restore. The Anasazi worshipped the powerful forces of nature- the sun, rain,moon. They believed in the sacredness of the earth and referred to it as mother earth. The sun was considered the father and the night father was the moon. They believed that everything had a spirit-humans, animals, rocks, and plants. Therefore they believed that everything had to be treated with respect.<br /> Many of the ruins have lots of broken pottery sherds.Many believe that the pottery was delibertely broken as part of a sacred ritual. The pottery was an offering. If the pot was left whole it might be picked up and taken off to be used by someone else. If the offering pot was broken, there would be nothing left by pottery. The sherds, now of no use to anyone but the spirits, would be left untouched.<br /> The Anasazi descendants of today believe that these sites possess spiritual power and that the souls of the Pueblo people still exist in the ruins today. The Pueblo people of today rarely enter the ruins but when they do they will make offerings of corn pollen and to pray to their ancestors.<br /> The Anasazi of Grand Gulch used a number of native plants for food, medicine, housing,clothing, and ornamentation. Indian rice grass was probably the most important of the native grasses because of its large seeds, which could be harvested in early summer and ground into meal for bread. Fruits of the prickly pear cactus were peeled and eaten, and the peeled and roasted leaves were an important food source. The Anasazi also used fourwing saltbush, blackbrush, Morman tea, wild turnips and potatoes, rose hips, and sunflower seeds. The narrowleaf yucca's sword-like leaves were woven into baskets and sandals, and the leaf fibers were spun into cords for fine quality sandals and bags. Yucca roots were used for soap, and the base of the plant was roasted and eaten, as were the fruits of a related plant, the broadleaf yucca. Pinon pine was a valuable source of housing material, fuel, and food; a good crop of protein-rich pinon nuts could be harvested every few years. wood from juniper trees provided the high temperature needed for firing pottery, and juniper bark was used for roofing shelters and padding cradleboards.This concludes a little bit of the history that the reader might find interesting.<br /><br /> With 8 hour windshield time behind us from Denver we checked into our motel in Blanding Utah. With some extra time on our hands we drove to Natural Bridges National Monument, to see wonders of nature, large natural bridges made out of solid sand stone, created by the combination of wind, ice and water. The canyons holding these bridges were deep and spectacular.<br /><br />April 15th<br /> With our back packs in the upright and locked postions, we drove to the Kane Gulch Ranger station. I already had our permits but we still had to check in with MR. and Mrs Ranger Rick. We had to watch a video about the do's and don't in the Grand Gulch primitive area. The movie was very well done and supplied us with lots of information about the people that lived here and what would happen if we were disrespectful to their dwellings. Dave and I had to drop my truck off at the Bullet Canyon trailhead which is where we would end our hiking for three days and 21 miles later. I had my canoe with me since when this back pack trip ended I would start another adventure on Lake Powell, and pam and Dave would drive home. <br /><br /> With all of our gear and permits in order our group of Three Musketeers were ready to set off at 10:00 am. The first part of the Kane Gulch trail is through scrubby bushes and is not very excitng. Very shortly though the landscape turns into giant rocks decorated with aspen trees. The aspen trees have been here for thousands of years, long before the Anasazi or sore footed back packers. The glaciers of the ice age moving from the north dropped aspen seeds in the gulch as it slowly melted, and from the seeds mighty aspen grew. Their cousins are still way up north, believe it or not!<br /><br /> After 4 miles of walking and observing everything the Kane Gulch had to offer we stood in front of our first cliff dwelling at the junction of Kane Gulch and Grand Gulch. Everyone couldn't wait to walk up to the structure and breath in the same atoms and molecules that the ancient ones did thousands of years ago. The dwellings are always built in cave like structures that are south facing. Long before the Anasazi wondered into this area the softer sandstone had eroded away to form these open cave like structures. These people used the stone structures that nature provided as a roof and back wall to their homes. The front and maybe the sides where then walled up with stones and mud. Sometimes Anasazi graffiti or pictrographs can be observed on the walls of these dwellings. A simple drawing can make one seem like he had won the lottery when it is found.<br /><br /> The next ruin was called Turkey Pen. When cowboys where looking for cattle, they ventured down in this gulch and they observed pens made to hold turkeys around this ruin. The pens are long gone but the dwellings are still here. We sat down and had lunch with one eye on our food and the other on the many ruins along the gulch. <br /><br /> After lunch we passed by our first arch named Stimper Arch, and we wondered if the Anasazi could have climbed all the way up to the arch. The reason we wondered is because many of the dwellings are so high up that professional climbers with nylon ropes would have a tough time reaching these dwellings. <br /><br /> After 7 hours of hiking and exploring we came to Todie Canyon, our camping spot for the night. Last year when I had camped here there was water at the junction. This year must be a little drier because the water had left the canyon. Dave walked up the canyon and I hiked down the gulch looking for water. Dave found a great spring about a 1/8 of a mile up the canyon that would provide all the water we would need. As we set up camp a group of hikers strolled through camp on the way up to the same spring. The solid rock walls of the canyon made for a perfect echo chamber like effect whenever this group of campers broke into a laughing contest that was fueled with whiskey. We knew exactly when they went to bed and when the woke up even though they where a 1/8 of a mile away.<br /><br />April 16th <br /> Woke to clear crisp skies and there was 7 miles ahead of us before the next camp site at Bullet Canyon. The first natural sight was at a place called Pour Off Pool. The soft sand gave way to solid rock of the Grand Gulch valley at this point. The large pool was formed below a large rock overhang that would make a magnificent waterfall during a rainfall. The rain must have been quite a few months ago because the pool water had this coffee colored appearance that a person dying of thirst would have second thoughts about touching their lips to.<br /><br /> At lunch time we again had the privilage of eating lunch by another ruin called Split Level. An Anasazi contractor must have taken a dwelling and added a second floor to the structure. When ever we came to a dwelling, especially the ones not listed on the map, it was like discovering a new world.<br /><br /> The rock walls of the canyons seemed to be holding in the heat a little bit more today, like a Easy Bake Oven. After lunch everybody's strength seemed to be draining away. We took a break by a structure known as The Thumb because you guessed it the shape was a thumb pointing straight up. After this structure, according to the map there was to be a canyon with a Green Mask pictograph on the rock wall. I think because of the heat cooking our brains, we walked right by without noticing, and continued on to our campsite ASCP! The Bullet Canyon and Grand Gulch junction could make for a perfect campsite, except of lack of fresh water. After much discusion we decided to carry on up the Bullet Canyon to Jailhouse Springs. It was over 2 miles but there would be fresh water and would save us 2 miles tomorrow. Pam had enough with carrying a pack already. I fastened her pack behind mine and after a hour of fast walking I found some sweet, cool and fresh water under some sweet, cool shade trees at Jailhouse Springs. <br /><br /> After scouting the area I found the perfect campsite above the valley floor and it came with its' own Anasazi ruin, at no extra charge. There was plenty of water that Dave and I fetched. After a meal of freeze dried meals we went exploring and heard our old friends from the last campsite just laughing and having a grand time. <br /><br />April 17th<br /> Last day in the canyon and 5 miles ahead of us. Within a hour we came to a small campsite with three campers. They pointed out Jailhouse Ruins and the unusual paintings above the dwellings. One white moon face had two large eyes like an alien. We dropped our packs and crawled up as close as we could to the multi roomed dwellings. After a hour of exploring we were on to the next stop the Perfect Kiva. The side canyon held the Perfect Kiva and it was quite the climb to get to its' placement. It was well worth the sweat and the scrapped knees. A kiva is a ceremonial room that was built by the Anasazi and still is used by the Pueblo tribes today. A long ladder leads down to the room with dirt floor and adobe walls. The ancient people prayed for rain and a good harvest. We also found stones that the people used to grind corn outside of the kiva.<br /><br /> We followed the trail as best we could over large and even larger boulders to reach the trail head, where my truck was parked. It was with great relief when the truck stood before us. But it was also knowing what a privilege it was to explore the Grand Gulch.<br /><br /> While Pam and Dave drove back to Denver, I drove to Hite, Lake Powell. I had heard every kind of story about Lake Powell and knew it was time to experience it myself. I had heard that the water level had dropped dramatically over the past years and had dropped even more with Lake Mead down river needing additional water. I pulled into the ranger station at Hite and noticed that it was deserted with a lone camper in the parking lot. I asked the camper if I could launch a boat here? "I launched a boat here last year, without a problem, but the water level has dropped 90 feet since then!" he said. I drove down to the boat ramp, which was a 6 lane concrete perfect constructed runway to a 1/8 mile of mud. I couldn't even see the mighty Colorado River. When I got out of my truck I noticed the other thing people had told me about Lake Powell, "THE WINDS" I couldn't open the truck door because the wind blew that hard. A sand storm had made the area seem like a movie set for Lawrence of Arabia. I noticed a fishing boat beside a brick building, the only building that wouldn't be blown down. Two fisherman were in the process of cleaning a few fish. I found out that the boat loading ramp had been moved to a road a mile to the west. I also found out from my new found friends that the water was forming 2 foot white caps because of the winds, along this channel. If I had a death wish I could take my 12 foot canoe out into the water.<br /><br /> Change of plans were in order after filling up my truck on $4.20 a gallon gas at Hite. I would drive back to White canyon and launch my canoe there. I drove along the highway and noticed a sign that read "NO BOAT LAUNCH AT WHITE CANYON -DROUGHT" How about Farley Canyon, that might work. The dirt and solid rock road lead me to a small camping area on top a of a mesa that was being torn apart with strong wind gusts. I drove on until the red dirt road slanted 20 degrees down and 20 degrees towards the side. I parked my white truck at the top and walked down the road to the lake shore. A couple were fishing without a license, I think because they slid their fishing poles under where they were sitting and kind of whistled and looked at the sky scratching their heads. They must of thought my white truck signaled that I was the game warden. I could see that this little canyon was my last hope, before driving back to Denver without canoeing the lake. I put my truck into four wheel drive and slowly drove down to the water's edge. I loaded up the canoe with camping gear and food for a few days of exploring and fishing. Little did I know this past hour would be the easy part.<br /><br /> The canoe loaded with gear proformed perfectly and I was able to find a small rock outcropping to paddle between. I carried my gear up the draw that was protected by hills on both sides. With the water level dropping so drastically billions of opened shell fish lined the banks. Huge piles of drift wood was 1/8 of a mile from the shore line where it was left high a dry when the water dropped. I opened the tent bag and got ready to set up my shelter for the next couple of days, when I noticed the tent supports had silver tape on them. This was the tent that I had taken to Costa Rica and the airlines had broken the fiberglass supports. I had just been using this tents as parts, I had grabbed the wrong tent! Also the skies where getting darker with rain a possiblity and I didn't have a rain fly with this tent. Remember stay calm, I have another tent in the truck from back packing with out suports, because I left my walking sticks with Dave who was driving back to Denver. I could use this tent as a rain fly and maybe with all the piles of drift wood I could fix the broken supports with duct tape and spit. <br /><br /> I paddled back to the boat launch and walked back to my truck got all the things that one might need to fix a major problem. I just rememebered one of my sayings "THERE'S NEVER A PROBLEM ONLY SOLUTIONS!" I paddled back to my broken tent and went to work, I had found a metal spoon and used that as one of the connectors for the support with major duct tape application. Then I slid over the new tent to work as a rain fly over the old tent and tied it down to ward off the wind gusts that seemed to have found me between two hills.<br /><br /> I had brought along a folding lawn chair and sat down to some warm food that I only needed to heat with my propane stove. I filled up the pot with water and struck a match to the stove and it took off like a champ. Then within minutes the top of the stove was on fire like a blow torch. The large green propane container was getting very hot and I thought the tank might explode. I turned off the propane but it just kept on burning below the stove top, right out of the propane container. I ran down to the shore line since I didn't want to be hit by flying metal when the tank exploded. After a few minutes I slowly walked back to find the tank still burning. I just grabbed it and like the wolf at one of the Three Little Pigs House I blew the flame out. I was just beginning to wonder how much more fun one person could have? I had another tank and hooked it up and it worked fine.<br /><br /> I ate my dinner with out choking, being attacked by coyotes or abducted by aliens, so I felt like my luck might change for the better. I walked down to the shore line and tried my hand at fishing. I saw a lot of fish come to the surface but they where mostly Carp.<br /><br />April 18th<br /> I slept like a baby under my hobo tent during the night without the rain. I made myself a lunch and headed out onto Lake Powell, for a day of fishing. Farley Bay had strong winds blowing down its channel so I turned back and decided to explore closer to home. Then within the hour the winds calmned down so I paddled and fished towards White Canyon. The scenery was everything you might expect from the Utah red sand stone canyons. The down side was the bath tub ring left from the 90 feet of water that used to be there. A white chalky deposit was left on the red sand stone, so it gave it a ghosty type experience. Don't get me wrong it still looked good, the snow covered distant mountains with the red canyons, and the big puffy clouds.<br /><br /> By the time I paddled to the White Canyon the winds had picked up and I hung along the shore line. I found a small canyon and steered and paddled the canoe into the back corner. I brought out my lunch and sat down to a meal. Piles of drift wood along with a bailer that someone had made littered the shore line. This water bailer might come in handy if I took on water from a wave or two. <br /><br /> After lunch I paddled back towards Farley Canyon and with the wind behind me I just used my paddle as a rudder. I noticed the water was getting a darker brown and there were lots of tree branches and logs floating in the water. I noticed large cliffs on both sides of the channel, then it looked like Hite was at the end of the channel. The wind had pushed me past the Farley Canyon and I was barreling down the Hite channel with 40 mph winds behind me. For the next hour and half I paddled my guts out to get back to Farley Canyon. The waves from the wind where coming over the front of the canoe and the bailer came in handy. I was so glad to see my canyon and calm water, I just found a side canyon and let the gentle breeze blow me around like a feather on the lake surface. <br /><br /> I was glad to be back at camp and made dinner without blowing anything up. After dinner I walked down to the shore line and read the book Endurance about the Shackleton expedition to Antarctic, which made my day seem like childs play. That night I read more of the book in the tent and must have fallen asleep, when I woke to what sounded like cannon fire and a bright lights. Thunder and lightning were putting on quite the show. Because of the solid rock canyons the noise of the thunder claps would echo for maybe ten times. Then the rain started which is nice to hear but I was camped at the end of a draw and if it really rained hard I would become a bit of drift wood, as I was washed out into the lake. After ten long minutes the rain stopped and then it returned with the lightning show. I must have fallen asleep and didn't wake up dead, because the skies had cleared and I was alive.<br /><br />April 19th<br /> I loaded up the canoe and skipped breakfast, with the thought of paddling my little canoe to safety. It was a relief to land on safe shores and backed the truck down to load up my gear. On the way home I stopped at the steel bridge over the Colorado River. I had the bridge and the river all to myself and what a nice sight it was. Along the highway I found a colorful 4 foot long snake I thought was getting warm on the pavement but it had croaked, maybe its stovie blew up! A little bit farther I found a complete set of rachets tools that had fallen off someone's truck. So I was being rewarded for being off that mean old Lake Powell! ha havince vogelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09409914685847755131noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-113513403868397494.post-9551321403306706312011-01-23T19:44:00.000-08:002014-02-07T14:00:02.870-08:00Winter Adventure !<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTNbGzFlCQTCARAlT1xgztNecLyjqYaJ2a2d-RZzZ-5PPjyMdbq9GdaUv6JcMa5Ji9CYIzo1_xmDrwZPnCYAd4ruahO6R8gJw30uu5z8uOJgONq1XkZ3-PRCKlXzglqfeql__LQPaNKNM/s1600/mt+baker+014.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTNbGzFlCQTCARAlT1xgztNecLyjqYaJ2a2d-RZzZ-5PPjyMdbq9GdaUv6JcMa5Ji9CYIzo1_xmDrwZPnCYAd4ruahO6R8gJw30uu5z8uOJgONq1XkZ3-PRCKlXzglqfeql__LQPaNKNM/s400/mt+baker+014.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5577879565096383778" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicbp_vqqjVH1uFeA2qQDLOyQFkW6ScT8VB0khM8Cb-memix_vhpV2AEdlsNUwJEaE9yNcx2BTP-wp6ITejS1uTV9bAffW7QBN_Sp79f75kZC88lBSaUgBPnounmZVUJEij0F7NMtnz0ic/s1600/mt+baker+009.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicbp_vqqjVH1uFeA2qQDLOyQFkW6ScT8VB0khM8Cb-memix_vhpV2AEdlsNUwJEaE9yNcx2BTP-wp6ITejS1uTV9bAffW7QBN_Sp79f75kZC88lBSaUgBPnounmZVUJEij0F7NMtnz0ic/s200/mt+baker+009.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5577879317318562562" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFcWSCedUyhpieu_LPz1xFgQN2UYa4v-4pvpu-0bUgN1ytQoz2lt2Dp29DrZzoSqjfvKAPF7ixTjKcSnG3cwtiDzqTzo7ga-yFpfb5v-7SccK-lOZ4C_uz_86ZGNOkpIoTpBvusD8RHTc/s1600/mt+baker+008.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFcWSCedUyhpieu_LPz1xFgQN2UYa4v-4pvpu-0bUgN1ytQoz2lt2Dp29DrZzoSqjfvKAPF7ixTjKcSnG3cwtiDzqTzo7ga-yFpfb5v-7SccK-lOZ4C_uz_86ZGNOkpIoTpBvusD8RHTc/s200/mt+baker+008.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5577878668013628898" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6BdBlXNoTqzp0Xr8zPfp3wFROXqypJy-9bWQaOxiVYfjJEnociN-IrrjHbxqa85KOw2_JffkwSfFr77JvbXJa9ieC5dyC7oV0MoeopKBFBANpHb6b9DcRyah-LI2KE9GmEGe4Q8XCX-k/s1600/mt+baker+023.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6BdBlXNoTqzp0Xr8zPfp3wFROXqypJy-9bWQaOxiVYfjJEnociN-IrrjHbxqa85KOw2_JffkwSfFr77JvbXJa9ieC5dyC7oV0MoeopKBFBANpHb6b9DcRyah-LI2KE9GmEGe4Q8XCX-k/s200/mt+baker+023.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5577878286700589650" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSCwFOfT0A4kRQ_rpr4L_aa41s8XHGF-KGVhIHXvYo70PhxBrJh8DspljtjqknRici1ETLvHYXQXgq70LeNssR8ugGSLix2QYG3AkEd4jMsUorzZQQ4zewyRND7Ht_1cqtsjra5EZWPX0/s1600/mt+baker+029.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSCwFOfT0A4kRQ_rpr4L_aa41s8XHGF-KGVhIHXvYo70PhxBrJh8DspljtjqknRici1ETLvHYXQXgq70LeNssR8ugGSLix2QYG3AkEd4jMsUorzZQQ4zewyRND7Ht_1cqtsjra5EZWPX0/s200/mt+baker+029.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5577877895017732738" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8LKYHWdTw65k7lTujU6Y__8lLS3Uc_x6R0lpPl7SlgFAXFQ2uVRVYUY0YhfX0JDkdlxTMkWVtkw7nCnVPhUiW5KLviRu6DMG4W7Gxx5H6cmts99sq2GPaIDonKtvdZqG_7ToIKUYg72Q/s1600/whistler2+012.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8LKYHWdTw65k7lTujU6Y__8lLS3Uc_x6R0lpPl7SlgFAXFQ2uVRVYUY0YhfX0JDkdlxTMkWVtkw7nCnVPhUiW5KLviRu6DMG4W7Gxx5H6cmts99sq2GPaIDonKtvdZqG_7ToIKUYg72Q/s200/whistler2+012.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5576665731526832530" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuYePtdARymdRmU8J8nHn-p2AyJO5H_XK5DJkrvlCyL_cGph9I1G7TzSFaIy7t0w4Tc42gry35NmyS2lz-9dd-slQM2ARGFzhbdJdwD3Clr0Nh_JehdDqsb5bc0eDWHcj9PtFppiBkAFs/s1600/whistler2+032.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuYePtdARymdRmU8J8nHn-p2AyJO5H_XK5DJkrvlCyL_cGph9I1G7TzSFaIy7t0w4Tc42gry35NmyS2lz-9dd-slQM2ARGFzhbdJdwD3Clr0Nh_JehdDqsb5bc0eDWHcj9PtFppiBkAFs/s200/whistler2+032.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5576665311347556002" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjilkpI7w7yvIV4BOBJe9NLsTlPz04pQhO327dyjuzOhpKHhCYrp7yvLGJcDL9D8UW9XDkJ-ChXEjnH5kvbUZNn3CRrjwcerI8EZM8V34Wl_HRtw45VM2QGqutFH9OlxR2amS74dzkACFs/s1600/whistler2+031.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjilkpI7w7yvIV4BOBJe9NLsTlPz04pQhO327dyjuzOhpKHhCYrp7yvLGJcDL9D8UW9XDkJ-ChXEjnH5kvbUZNn3CRrjwcerI8EZM8V34Wl_HRtw45VM2QGqutFH9OlxR2amS74dzkACFs/s200/whistler2+031.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5576664894304439266" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqf62gnaGpjWO3pC-4iczhfiwjU2PmCk1j_Sz6rk2-U7YtLR7jOHqx_Gh_X9xHHuFCI29EPjOwW-P54X1JjMkozoFao6kdfJGgYTNd7ZF6FAYyUsZZYhkRNBUxIC9TM6zaYA6eLyZvDFg/s1600/whistler2+036.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqf62gnaGpjWO3pC-4iczhfiwjU2PmCk1j_Sz6rk2-U7YtLR7jOHqx_Gh_X9xHHuFCI29EPjOwW-P54X1JjMkozoFao6kdfJGgYTNd7ZF6FAYyUsZZYhkRNBUxIC9TM6zaYA6eLyZvDFg/s200/whistler2+036.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5576664563960926914" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtAALZdf5XVqPrYP2_CnLZDpsLQnV8qRdkVNlwotnIpZpZN7y8YwBnZWLSTyCHrN1goRYbmY5z9PDPbDXSzmFeTIZehx_-UGqhobeVjYI6Q3EWG9mVz2TIlR_WW5ApDd0MAE-41N92InA/s1600/whistler2+027.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtAALZdf5XVqPrYP2_CnLZDpsLQnV8qRdkVNlwotnIpZpZN7y8YwBnZWLSTyCHrN1goRYbmY5z9PDPbDXSzmFeTIZehx_-UGqhobeVjYI6Q3EWG9mVz2TIlR_WW5ApDd0MAE-41N92InA/s200/whistler2+027.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5576664180909230226" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVVG4JFcVedtaWUy8OVG0_w6iTb6uj6fZD4Qr9QjBhQaPe1FGTwxWK1NcW3jNe9PFeACpRGnEzsNL5u6sGcWUrYmmRcEGOm6a8ffNp50uDOgfIEYlIew9vrxv4R8V03qedYN0Hf2WpvUA/s1600/whistler2+023.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVVG4JFcVedtaWUy8OVG0_w6iTb6uj6fZD4Qr9QjBhQaPe1FGTwxWK1NcW3jNe9PFeACpRGnEzsNL5u6sGcWUrYmmRcEGOm6a8ffNp50uDOgfIEYlIew9vrxv4R8V03qedYN0Hf2WpvUA/s200/whistler2+023.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5576663849232911410" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRrZNJaSzC7CjjItfXfjOkcrKX3_JdcajzYD3_smz3VzLjYmzjzCjFpLNltu9khr_4OIxrYqP98lItSzSodwc9U16IaKEljZAI1NbnmuTZG92QcCqRetJElwfAL9iMVrRSZaT223GgGIE/s1600/whistler2+040.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRrZNJaSzC7CjjItfXfjOkcrKX3_JdcajzYD3_smz3VzLjYmzjzCjFpLNltu9khr_4OIxrYqP98lItSzSodwc9U16IaKEljZAI1NbnmuTZG92QcCqRetJElwfAL9iMVrRSZaT223GgGIE/s200/whistler2+040.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5576663589262842818" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjerRrq5W8S8cPp2QREOte3n7LS8TBPeuVbWoj4QZbzN7XLYlmmwXhAGVObV8gL6Rju66RyCUJfx-kZk-FMmczvsmh7xR-iTNmX3mVDzdft0iz-HYkuUENITNdEM0TXlTnKqce5wkxgdwM/s1600/whistler2+019.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjerRrq5W8S8cPp2QREOte3n7LS8TBPeuVbWoj4QZbzN7XLYlmmwXhAGVObV8gL6Rju66RyCUJfx-kZk-FMmczvsmh7xR-iTNmX3mVDzdft0iz-HYkuUENITNdEM0TXlTnKqce5wkxgdwM/s200/whistler2+019.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5576663347906759954" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSrDBc-bb4qpL_dCC7wsQav5CU-MMtxIe4r7y2ZxT1QL49x2dqeNVnFpO_xjNXBJyfeZPhizgR6_fxkPDu37Fut0_u3W5tV-WxU-59nmDiIT2CNtJRGHGSSJRtFbr6qlTH5nHn4RQI6BY/s1600/whistler+002.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSrDBc-bb4qpL_dCC7wsQav5CU-MMtxIe4r7y2ZxT1QL49x2dqeNVnFpO_xjNXBJyfeZPhizgR6_fxkPDu37Fut0_u3W5tV-WxU-59nmDiIT2CNtJRGHGSSJRtFbr6qlTH5nHn4RQI6BY/s200/whistler+002.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5575927077939754674" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVeLD0og-WbVCuL_3RfBKXiza59RNwgrqEyxnsfVUN7nvEd2dQZedR6t0HnduJkTwnAKocGJjT-tGww-4CmX6K56yWVjDYTED6r9Il128VrukPtBjNm1a7jlKnJMuPMlhNIshlg98pP4c/s1600/whistler+012.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVeLD0og-WbVCuL_3RfBKXiza59RNwgrqEyxnsfVUN7nvEd2dQZedR6t0HnduJkTwnAKocGJjT-tGww-4CmX6K56yWVjDYTED6r9Il128VrukPtBjNm1a7jlKnJMuPMlhNIshlg98pP4c/s200/whistler+012.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5575926745701824882" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifCikceTj3N4mqt1G0-L9BvLMrywswoo2twHPo6Lw0X-K8kzI02VcI7i0-dyvK-hpKE15g2pmW2K4xcmNPxl1nr3fWXF62XzKE6xj3ynwRZ_K0ae4H6Otk8xGJTEhhDeQtCdigpeQu8bM/s1600/whistler+016.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifCikceTj3N4mqt1G0-L9BvLMrywswoo2twHPo6Lw0X-K8kzI02VcI7i0-dyvK-hpKE15g2pmW2K4xcmNPxl1nr3fWXF62XzKE6xj3ynwRZ_K0ae4H6Otk8xGJTEhhDeQtCdigpeQu8bM/s200/whistler+016.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5575926439180162226" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5zUCnFsJXz0PVuMDnjPbaEPiIRNGuHGzF3Vx6DYCcR4Vw7WleX7GoSoEBpcrZE0AkZgSBHvAaB0u-h7Tiysp1mwlgsX5cIxphD2SK6brW3L9zLWpylImQBsv5Jp3SGmfIKXdM-uh7b7w/s1600/whistler+017.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5zUCnFsJXz0PVuMDnjPbaEPiIRNGuHGzF3Vx6DYCcR4Vw7WleX7GoSoEBpcrZE0AkZgSBHvAaB0u-h7Tiysp1mwlgsX5cIxphD2SK6brW3L9zLWpylImQBsv5Jp3SGmfIKXdM-uh7b7w/s200/whistler+017.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5575926017928838882" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIyCkhs2BxbC4ImPDk8q13xezpac6BvVY45o2AGtgn8ebZA8vUyRKmVg14UTCn91rk_lztfJTeWjjaUIN0hWvHqrRxzjRi7hYZD2N4zB4QUuz6SoMxUcLwogBlXGS_FzvDOYLrkbE4HJ4/s1600/whistler+023.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIyCkhs2BxbC4ImPDk8q13xezpac6BvVY45o2AGtgn8ebZA8vUyRKmVg14UTCn91rk_lztfJTeWjjaUIN0hWvHqrRxzjRi7hYZD2N4zB4QUuz6SoMxUcLwogBlXGS_FzvDOYLrkbE4HJ4/s200/whistler+023.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5575925668396423282" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9hJ3T2upjUPpPW-X0eQ617fEQWFVywBrtM_HvtC-Mz9b0FRc1-Vr6aoUT98YLxrALa1mEBbG9X7kgbloRFS0NMq4rp_lNBSR4uQ3Y-6lMpyZ3CMDWg_TibFARF7qxMCkLFLwrk-dgzKU/s1600/jasper+015.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9hJ3T2upjUPpPW-X0eQ617fEQWFVywBrtM_HvtC-Mz9b0FRc1-Vr6aoUT98YLxrALa1mEBbG9X7kgbloRFS0NMq4rp_lNBSR4uQ3Y-6lMpyZ3CMDWg_TibFARF7qxMCkLFLwrk-dgzKU/s200/jasper+015.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5575794137039074226" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX-oOXLm9K9HxF8LZJvgoS1vmsAXqsa-X0ZnYr8Q-YQU1mmTLpvQfEoXLBOT4DRiI334Rv4eIdNTxrIaFubIKjtmkyg7rHVyOY6GLdKq0yvZaXFcGShsK_fW7lynfeR5I0J9IppJTMo5I/s1600/jasper+011.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX-oOXLm9K9HxF8LZJvgoS1vmsAXqsa-X0ZnYr8Q-YQU1mmTLpvQfEoXLBOT4DRiI334Rv4eIdNTxrIaFubIKjtmkyg7rHVyOY6GLdKq0yvZaXFcGShsK_fW7lynfeR5I0J9IppJTMo5I/s200/jasper+011.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5575793549050811170" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0-IMdmqwSchQ_8VlRyxI_hOUs3hdlrOTKZ4BIveTsAK0TDem-OnSmmvkA6q6nkuNpx1vwNgaAbfG2LLIXL8gImo0c1JXSm0u2OOWq5SL2oBn1w5hY-gi_eQaCugL95XGoBSYSDFpsOJg/s1600/jasper+018.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0-IMdmqwSchQ_8VlRyxI_hOUs3hdlrOTKZ4BIveTsAK0TDem-OnSmmvkA6q6nkuNpx1vwNgaAbfG2LLIXL8gImo0c1JXSm0u2OOWq5SL2oBn1w5hY-gi_eQaCugL95XGoBSYSDFpsOJg/s200/jasper+018.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5575793209195743890" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLYoaob52ZL9_o4E3mdbBTJ9n-xzhyphenhypheny8-mKy45rfDBDq2LwH9tSStPjh5hGZPa6LpADT9G99bKowXTMx33UMArHHW2PzIm_5h1GCEgAU40C2myju_asc_MmaaXvPtTQsD1C9zfTh7SXHs/s1600/jasper+008.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLYoaob52ZL9_o4E3mdbBTJ9n-xzhyphenhypheny8-mKy45rfDBDq2LwH9tSStPjh5hGZPa6LpADT9G99bKowXTMx33UMArHHW2PzIm_5h1GCEgAU40C2myju_asc_MmaaXvPtTQsD1C9zfTh7SXHs/s200/jasper+008.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5575792932356890114" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqh_rEAEUe1okbRLfDwZiYrD1rfxkHWkjgcfldfKHYRxwc5eKzJpK02IUmksb1YI7rmrfxoe794mp0zqQjSmE436_uovTRVJQTD2YUY4dD1IiOf9Yuu7FYv4tZ8JxddxUDuxLnballWCE/s1600/jasper+007.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqh_rEAEUe1okbRLfDwZiYrD1rfxkHWkjgcfldfKHYRxwc5eKzJpK02IUmksb1YI7rmrfxoe794mp0zqQjSmE436_uovTRVJQTD2YUY4dD1IiOf9Yuu7FYv4tZ8JxddxUDuxLnballWCE/s200/jasper+007.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5575792664484760002" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_7Cft2SXWGmPhy8pLe570m5UWRJP1JUaSPLpvOioyc-5zBIe1Hp6CL6xQ2srD95i3LUZW_hIu5AvNXKo326tPkGnpVmYV2lkHQ5BoP8hd3KqC0rdMB4SwIGIXBL_Z6DZ-XUvyMOf-iP8/s1600/jasper+005.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_7Cft2SXWGmPhy8pLe570m5UWRJP1JUaSPLpvOioyc-5zBIe1Hp6CL6xQ2srD95i3LUZW_hIu5AvNXKo326tPkGnpVmYV2lkHQ5BoP8hd3KqC0rdMB4SwIGIXBL_Z6DZ-XUvyMOf-iP8/s200/jasper+005.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5575792265630000882" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBu7RkK8z9yM1EmWhy3Zp_fJHhjeuul2VnjaP6oswV6h34aAX3p4x45LJNLuR9E3KSSo0b76ZsoARkwTco6Y8XzTvFPZKSjMoXBeml1j9rGQMDJtEfmc3FDLjHvjbyJE_U2OieRNL-ejQ/s1600/jasper+001.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBu7RkK8z9yM1EmWhy3Zp_fJHhjeuul2VnjaP6oswV6h34aAX3p4x45LJNLuR9E3KSSo0b76ZsoARkwTco6Y8XzTvFPZKSjMoXBeml1j9rGQMDJtEfmc3FDLjHvjbyJE_U2OieRNL-ejQ/s200/jasper+001.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5575791898211509346" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk0NtwFehEw6CGtGtaoxCLvL3XNqt86OIJq7q6XuIQB1_Hx74XxyrkIfTbq-NPosAfB6pcTJBqrifBiQtP1_5JBUgcTraw90K8ijkvStJgnP5rXFaaj5sxh4YMfN5MXGmUHIV0WQQgNJw/s1600/Parker+hut+018.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk0NtwFehEw6CGtGtaoxCLvL3XNqt86OIJq7q6XuIQB1_Hx74XxyrkIfTbq-NPosAfB6pcTJBqrifBiQtP1_5JBUgcTraw90K8ijkvStJgnP5rXFaaj5sxh4YMfN5MXGmUHIV0WQQgNJw/s200/Parker+hut+018.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5574442969747477362" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBRjNLjRE29QtsabIzAa4r_Wy8TDaiAGbilBLTPjWbHA1-6ZDjtGnbbUirKJMaBUri0H2VYishpSYWYiHrwCOknOBD1Xl72aSCEIgozckPd3orJbk0LvQXy3fvY_lrH7GUAhywjHzjwY4/s1600/Parker+hut+034.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBRjNLjRE29QtsabIzAa4r_Wy8TDaiAGbilBLTPjWbHA1-6ZDjtGnbbUirKJMaBUri0H2VYishpSYWYiHrwCOknOBD1Xl72aSCEIgozckPd3orJbk0LvQXy3fvY_lrH7GUAhywjHzjwY4/s200/Parker+hut+034.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5574442456548529314" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHINM3JcWU73hMffVCk2Rm4fY8OgXWF0aZKE2YYxnotHcS3NZoY2-vHts2PlmfwncmT6xUSCR90Lyb500QCyk3cs3lLL1blA5lT7uoDkB_v7E6O2dsBPDXtV5wmPPaahjz2UOYdQMot58/s1600/Parker+hut+062.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHINM3JcWU73hMffVCk2Rm4fY8OgXWF0aZKE2YYxnotHcS3NZoY2-vHts2PlmfwncmT6xUSCR90Lyb500QCyk3cs3lLL1blA5lT7uoDkB_v7E6O2dsBPDXtV5wmPPaahjz2UOYdQMot58/s200/Parker+hut+062.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5574441887201779314" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-OhHgpUzy81iBIXl6L5HBNL0VeavmUBjMAh6iXJcxMCvY8Bm5OZ-Fs2XSV39_DqiKNZ948K1vNpJFP6aeMB60iwJ0E1Sgh8GxPi4qYpISHLrCdAiO8sw9rLB9AKTSS0TLoJfNYxB932k/s1600/Parker+hut+040.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-OhHgpUzy81iBIXl6L5HBNL0VeavmUBjMAh6iXJcxMCvY8Bm5OZ-Fs2XSV39_DqiKNZ948K1vNpJFP6aeMB60iwJ0E1Sgh8GxPi4qYpISHLrCdAiO8sw9rLB9AKTSS0TLoJfNYxB932k/s200/Parker+hut+040.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5574441342212458194" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh37Nr0qWXnM-lTuwBnKb78NWW7paHj-nxJ3tqdh5trYXmqh1rr4FuWxvo54Gop8CIy0icEcqI3XbYGeThSRQ_Z-URvD3WDas8NXlCGGzT0NG13Uvrv6_qyc7QnIQnVDqOUm6WF_uWZPo/s1600/Parker+hut+051.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh37Nr0qWXnM-lTuwBnKb78NWW7paHj-nxJ3tqdh5trYXmqh1rr4FuWxvo54Gop8CIy0icEcqI3XbYGeThSRQ_Z-URvD3WDas8NXlCGGzT0NG13Uvrv6_qyc7QnIQnVDqOUm6WF_uWZPo/s200/Parker+hut+051.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5574441014065493842" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5meKWcow7jFlSq8ZjAIZE52oyezNfNnBdtdG_VVe0ZoGPre4vbqwvsOsCnYwc183YcJC1Dn_Q70CHh_nvn03RMGWJVpRkZ78uFOwsV753eL9Ocr4ChPaLasdVUbGZNxtYuoPu963I48g/s1600/Parker+hut+017.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5meKWcow7jFlSq8ZjAIZE52oyezNfNnBdtdG_VVe0ZoGPre4vbqwvsOsCnYwc183YcJC1Dn_Q70CHh_nvn03RMGWJVpRkZ78uFOwsV753eL9Ocr4ChPaLasdVUbGZNxtYuoPu963I48g/s200/Parker+hut+017.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5574440630504386226" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMhmkpCGU2ZUdnNYthuLqw6zFLYXZ2SzRJ9vI_kPtRlyGdMoUsgGWpE24fu5FiQoFZzAw48-QEQpI7s6z4nO7JXaFcf9b7Vq4mPgQyz9ZJYGfRqyehIbXirLnusXF9O-p6BDQZsbfCRps/s1600/Canada+1+001.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMhmkpCGU2ZUdnNYthuLqw6zFLYXZ2SzRJ9vI_kPtRlyGdMoUsgGWpE24fu5FiQoFZzAw48-QEQpI7s6z4nO7JXaFcf9b7Vq4mPgQyz9ZJYGfRqyehIbXirLnusXF9O-p6BDQZsbfCRps/s200/Canada+1+001.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5573392988813817026" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJjamGuvmLmsmP0pyOhmgX3pPcvFtWeWTr9hLAJ1pu2kPffBy4ewj6DA6nlCZNTB2nNWcUItQsZuR1WOQgGm_RbYzsA6KAIt-Scsag5vBQrnZoiyBqEXHiTh_zDNsm__Kct7OSQqHpojg/s1600/Canada+1+010.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJjamGuvmLmsmP0pyOhmgX3pPcvFtWeWTr9hLAJ1pu2kPffBy4ewj6DA6nlCZNTB2nNWcUItQsZuR1WOQgGm_RbYzsA6KAIt-Scsag5vBQrnZoiyBqEXHiTh_zDNsm__Kct7OSQqHpojg/s200/Canada+1+010.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5573392675973998514" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmdwfvCv5vtAjQE3LDdpmzIYgfAD4cLFVd6m73yLpmw-IoTbiPHOnnRzRTqhClKQ93wG3z8iiOXKHvt2DlWozUJM1lf7Xcwk-tkc1-YC5V-uHwGxeHIsstMSmu1VawJt_JMe4WFLUyOj0/s1600/Canada+1+008.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmdwfvCv5vtAjQE3LDdpmzIYgfAD4cLFVd6m73yLpmw-IoTbiPHOnnRzRTqhClKQ93wG3z8iiOXKHvt2DlWozUJM1lf7Xcwk-tkc1-YC5V-uHwGxeHIsstMSmu1VawJt_JMe4WFLUyOj0/s200/Canada+1+008.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5573392307098785906" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr0cGQTNN4WSnzq2-DdCfKBL3uhD_i3FIH38dj1AyTbWawVCcdwPqqkP7zQG2tkEt_iqEwvrN1uDagke53OQto-PjVZuNteE-piaZOm1CYv0Dd8fUXrafRpvBW-n60nKok_sCXf6DOTGs/s1600/Canada+1+006.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr0cGQTNN4WSnzq2-DdCfKBL3uhD_i3FIH38dj1AyTbWawVCcdwPqqkP7zQG2tkEt_iqEwvrN1uDagke53OQto-PjVZuNteE-piaZOm1CYv0Dd8fUXrafRpvBW-n60nKok_sCXf6DOTGs/s200/Canada+1+006.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5573392044526015874" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSQQ65GxTyh_dGtNZsRnzP-Y1_p_w-neAVVfzJR4ArCH5Q2Wx06-HDfrR2txBq6hJgkLTblybSdtS7mtFR5-4vct4Yk_QuF6b_LYx0yxREmQ1UClOobk6mEijfTa0IXC-7WDJLOxLrVsQ/s1600/Canada+1+005.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSQQ65GxTyh_dGtNZsRnzP-Y1_p_w-neAVVfzJR4ArCH5Q2Wx06-HDfrR2txBq6hJgkLTblybSdtS7mtFR5-4vct4Yk_QuF6b_LYx0yxREmQ1UClOobk6mEijfTa0IXC-7WDJLOxLrVsQ/s200/Canada+1+005.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5573391756461383090" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcME-BHM8_2zGKsEXaF8Wj89IV46neFIOxhCOudLiHH5IZyrUViNnzJjkVSNXf3h9P0tI0jK6UrOkBt1gfVbnhA2kys7pA_Z3pTQFQsD5KRxRr73gefDmtdXetnV2UiFji8GOPGZp8ppU/s1600/Canada+1+007.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcME-BHM8_2zGKsEXaF8Wj89IV46neFIOxhCOudLiHH5IZyrUViNnzJjkVSNXf3h9P0tI0jK6UrOkBt1gfVbnhA2kys7pA_Z3pTQFQsD5KRxRr73gefDmtdXetnV2UiFji8GOPGZp8ppU/s200/Canada+1+007.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5573391443083897378" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVluqvErUF4BlnFH2S9ubk90aVckrVRcP-xv2UPvAIic3AOmsT-sTmYwo_nY5tIlUPsj21XgBcXJiYlgnJiktpG-SzkKS_QKsyBB1gtTGQaY9llWVOAGXg11XcUMKbAgjQ35v2rrfCQSo/s1600/Canada+1+004.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVluqvErUF4BlnFH2S9ubk90aVckrVRcP-xv2UPvAIic3AOmsT-sTmYwo_nY5tIlUPsj21XgBcXJiYlgnJiktpG-SzkKS_QKsyBB1gtTGQaY9llWVOAGXg11XcUMKbAgjQ35v2rrfCQSo/s200/Canada+1+004.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5573391090018925410" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_k6OWwBtew812CRlnlH9fEiugNGgNT5x_bhgoxTwgcd7UGQsDqAZ4b_pc4XdctTWXT9k4TVbkezO2dmJTjVDGh54r4y1XYinPCMX99m5foD5g4VXy5DP6v4X6zc3zATSSm75bNP8_SbY/s1600/Big+Mountain+009.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_k6OWwBtew812CRlnlH9fEiugNGgNT5x_bhgoxTwgcd7UGQsDqAZ4b_pc4XdctTWXT9k4TVbkezO2dmJTjVDGh54r4y1XYinPCMX99m5foD5g4VXy5DP6v4X6zc3zATSSm75bNP8_SbY/s200/Big+Mountain+009.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5573001794477481650" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxU7_XNGhmPs0rDZGjwCPgFkT5W6p48ISlrH-ScwG71kWzvu5JUDkzsYsFMWK3NPHL_-aUfrbjESDxoEPPloX0W_L0pdIc9GJzuOui0gkkqdcSK10e-JWRcMpWu-RkFIOKGFQjcgJ72KM/s1600/Big+Mountain+005.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxU7_XNGhmPs0rDZGjwCPgFkT5W6p48ISlrH-ScwG71kWzvu5JUDkzsYsFMWK3NPHL_-aUfrbjESDxoEPPloX0W_L0pdIc9GJzuOui0gkkqdcSK10e-JWRcMpWu-RkFIOKGFQjcgJ72KM/s200/Big+Mountain+005.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5573001363347422482" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAJfytotlwloh1XU-ch99Q_sHNsGvSaKHm9ADIFJn_yblG7P2861v_xrg5J_0wuQs87GXemvex3NHCeTNTVb-dHAR7XbVZGD8sIYmrWYORQRvBxm2wjYIZhgWgLTz_T27YBbtRjHcpbsM/s1600/Big+Mountain+002.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAJfytotlwloh1XU-ch99Q_sHNsGvSaKHm9ADIFJn_yblG7P2861v_xrg5J_0wuQs87GXemvex3NHCeTNTVb-dHAR7XbVZGD8sIYmrWYORQRvBxm2wjYIZhgWgLTz_T27YBbtRjHcpbsM/s200/Big+Mountain+002.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5573000983598853682" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuQfgV-1Wx5Bu7SfqlznfvDGq-icp035CWnUg5ZCFfDrj45mu-1d1-y-3iJ0BiexGruNdVX9beScmqhcB_4wz39OBxC0mCONJO9J64cVgsyUVuOu0xeM998P9Z-m3yTF1lq_Wsh3oFt5c/s1600/Big+Mountain+010.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuQfgV-1Wx5Bu7SfqlznfvDGq-icp035CWnUg5ZCFfDrj45mu-1d1-y-3iJ0BiexGruNdVX9beScmqhcB_4wz39OBxC0mCONJO9J64cVgsyUVuOu0xeM998P9Z-m3yTF1lq_Wsh3oFt5c/s200/Big+Mountain+010.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5573000728953854706" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuUa0bGbqgsqU9MAoTSZzX8u5g4jOq23MtFX6KJaOBY6ReTWWeIV-CeoKD1-VUBGWt6RRoTBDvEO7ywo841qGtzwo15LsznFqji0X-1Y7bEVM0G1Olj4xg3ULppMY-09s4Hwq4n1fAJ6c/s1600/glacier+001.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuUa0bGbqgsqU9MAoTSZzX8u5g4jOq23MtFX6KJaOBY6ReTWWeIV-CeoKD1-VUBGWt6RRoTBDvEO7ywo841qGtzwo15LsznFqji0X-1Y7bEVM0G1Olj4xg3ULppMY-09s4Hwq4n1fAJ6c/s200/glacier+001.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5572605985874075394" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTjDaGKcKXiSFg_RLDfxY1uiL0mpKwoV71xKifZnJIKhaUqjTKDSdhSuwYS82QD1Fzfez4O_eT9YbqrH3GFn84pFvUeeAFKOab8imf_8uZvf93SeOO1_2PP1iPIbxDaxkSbvV3Ir8dAwQ/s1600/glacier+024.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTjDaGKcKXiSFg_RLDfxY1uiL0mpKwoV71xKifZnJIKhaUqjTKDSdhSuwYS82QD1Fzfez4O_eT9YbqrH3GFn84pFvUeeAFKOab8imf_8uZvf93SeOO1_2PP1iPIbxDaxkSbvV3Ir8dAwQ/s200/glacier+024.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5572605518874959618" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHxkn6GnGvIq4TxcHEgfZbbaQ7VC1HhzT4fx9DCqBt8Ho520AAIxyOsR_x_O11QGC5BfX1ePhjaM7sxIBUATakpkKfPyVEKt7UUyZpGW_2I2B_wcRX1TBp3TyWHH-op4nYEOaoOTMn0Ck/s1600/glacier+034.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHxkn6GnGvIq4TxcHEgfZbbaQ7VC1HhzT4fx9DCqBt8Ho520AAIxyOsR_x_O11QGC5BfX1ePhjaM7sxIBUATakpkKfPyVEKt7UUyZpGW_2I2B_wcRX1TBp3TyWHH-op4nYEOaoOTMn0Ck/s200/glacier+034.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5572604734684801378" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggV7Nx57ylYEFbZcytxWa19t1SwNtHhPfUlOUq1qMWmSrNjW7YAYVcqGdkpDJht458WC1zWL3vLl8kXOQ7rzLQxx7NShGSWjnHhEX7lFlqnrqdVYAwO2GjZge4aJwhERR1Ee1GQRtY9Hs/s1600/glacier+033.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggV7Nx57ylYEFbZcytxWa19t1SwNtHhPfUlOUq1qMWmSrNjW7YAYVcqGdkpDJht458WC1zWL3vLl8kXOQ7rzLQxx7NShGSWjnHhEX7lFlqnrqdVYAwO2GjZge4aJwhERR1Ee1GQRtY9Hs/s200/glacier+033.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5572603714713259410" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy9wRomNVtKx_v4u1R1fa9Fz9lQG-V7hU4q_TOsSDqqIlYF0iKV0TqGTQ6RkbncHGiBULmXIMslI8SVQDsjGnSMrzXHAI6o_ZjAImjjAdODH4zPuwypjvBuj5lqEUTAP3HJfFnvkhxRYo/s1600/glacier+028.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy9wRomNVtKx_v4u1R1fa9Fz9lQG-V7hU4q_TOsSDqqIlYF0iKV0TqGTQ6RkbncHGiBULmXIMslI8SVQDsjGnSMrzXHAI6o_ZjAImjjAdODH4zPuwypjvBuj5lqEUTAP3HJfFnvkhxRYo/s200/glacier+028.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5572603389405787458" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivg3tsrwresZ9bHjuRDT1oRFhyfLDd1Getp5eNZ4Pwn31uZjGN-VhlgLS4cYw43k9QTq7xAZ2VX8gGTJfVoEZL1pNBrkeesgO2Ur8ILtstrFV7MGYpprD8tPuVBPSbUvpSufFb47ESloI/s1600/glacier+009.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivg3tsrwresZ9bHjuRDT1oRFhyfLDd1Getp5eNZ4Pwn31uZjGN-VhlgLS4cYw43k9QTq7xAZ2VX8gGTJfVoEZL1pNBrkeesgO2Ur8ILtstrFV7MGYpprD8tPuVBPSbUvpSufFb47ESloI/s200/glacier+009.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5572603044111885586" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_0N_O1LBxPO7kzbinLPB4431AAFP_BciwbZ02tGr3cClHQx9yceK6ef9azepNhxxbi9YuLYzxCdyLJx9Alq3BonpMvKdGRm2epsi7jsyiMgzbJr7RNn6ccTMli5cqlOKfFEfGVRcadbA/s1600/glacier+013.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_0N_O1LBxPO7kzbinLPB4431AAFP_BciwbZ02tGr3cClHQx9yceK6ef9azepNhxxbi9YuLYzxCdyLJx9Alq3BonpMvKdGRm2epsi7jsyiMgzbJr7RNn6ccTMli5cqlOKfFEfGVRcadbA/s200/glacier+013.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5572602768676786706" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfpgduDNwn8IcIReRFgvf1MPn-uhNPbueE5aogc1zMpQUQS1j8cl5wNCAPEJHsCb_nCBEYv7rmyPf5Mrvq9B8uFoSxr877p7R-wLJTYOPh-Ojdrhq05XZQfvIPL4lA4pF5QcnxhG_Av80/s1600/gardner+2+023.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfpgduDNwn8IcIReRFgvf1MPn-uhNPbueE5aogc1zMpQUQS1j8cl5wNCAPEJHsCb_nCBEYv7rmyPf5Mrvq9B8uFoSxr877p7R-wLJTYOPh-Ojdrhq05XZQfvIPL4lA4pF5QcnxhG_Av80/s200/gardner+2+023.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5571879768551792914" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXRcwRt6LfvGRm0aH1MePDj5u6NguHABBHspzGpLW82QL4DUXIRFMb5MuQShyphenhyphenaMY_fE6FlnYTFLLYuVqa5tTMyfTdwtbYjNPl1qF_XqwzBjw4hpcQAy-khueQLaE8OqvK2QwwFaLAaiF0/s1600/gardner+2+017.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXRcwRt6LfvGRm0aH1MePDj5u6NguHABBHspzGpLW82QL4DUXIRFMb5MuQShyphenhyphenaMY_fE6FlnYTFLLYuVqa5tTMyfTdwtbYjNPl1qF_XqwzBjw4hpcQAy-khueQLaE8OqvK2QwwFaLAaiF0/s200/gardner+2+017.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5571879504815255026" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaAs8hfM__3QTKHGSCDue39J5Mf_yRo5FwO4r9BBRPTCqiL8MueTwJO1pTlOgL9xUNtQxlgyaOYgw0u0TC8714CI1WnBw6BEaK6pi7PPt847wYo5Ug4-p750gIvr_wMvFYOekKaALEFRU/s1600/gardner+2+021.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaAs8hfM__3QTKHGSCDue39J5Mf_yRo5FwO4r9BBRPTCqiL8MueTwJO1pTlOgL9xUNtQxlgyaOYgw0u0TC8714CI1WnBw6BEaK6pi7PPt847wYo5Ug4-p750gIvr_wMvFYOekKaALEFRU/s200/gardner+2+021.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5571879236131929330" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi24GPbQShDEsBr5P2xMmvd1-4UUwNj-uiLITiJ16C8SzEaPak_0V9qfM1ShkkxEqYO5Gt61jy7qD5ouYDJCfa24zrDN3w7Innm52_oR8P-0_srhf8dz2w2-dsW2AolHa4Eb2fASpDyao0/s1600/gardner+2+012.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi24GPbQShDEsBr5P2xMmvd1-4UUwNj-uiLITiJ16C8SzEaPak_0V9qfM1ShkkxEqYO5Gt61jy7qD5ouYDJCfa24zrDN3w7Innm52_oR8P-0_srhf8dz2w2-dsW2AolHa4Eb2fASpDyao0/s200/gardner+2+012.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5571878864217429762" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUukY8edOP-_xDh5-SqsATL1rnVl68GNdZYc1oEaRg0_kkXUPZSgQv10TJVNfIlXk1NxrSL8qGfahERhf4LCmzpgwbFbXE-zxEkKNMqIn3t8M_5wKbM5K4ISwvZ5kwIpqi3tM81sVz_EI/s1600/gardner+2+009.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUukY8edOP-_xDh5-SqsATL1rnVl68GNdZYc1oEaRg0_kkXUPZSgQv10TJVNfIlXk1NxrSL8qGfahERhf4LCmzpgwbFbXE-zxEkKNMqIn3t8M_5wKbM5K4ISwvZ5kwIpqi3tM81sVz_EI/s200/gardner+2+009.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5571878546168994962" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZZ7bRHQNb9pxgp1kwG2dWy5-7VPZF02Hw0yTC_u_rTklbnE7xJiN7HrJrzyvvjVrZsT-7ic9PUEb6h-lmX9Lj6W2TOsleNmbbZUoYC5OiWdXOLXP4JhuZHw1ppPgOwsOMpuKoTWaxzF8/s1600/gardner+1+010.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZZ7bRHQNb9pxgp1kwG2dWy5-7VPZF02Hw0yTC_u_rTklbnE7xJiN7HrJrzyvvjVrZsT-7ic9PUEb6h-lmX9Lj6W2TOsleNmbbZUoYC5OiWdXOLXP4JhuZHw1ppPgOwsOMpuKoTWaxzF8/s200/gardner+1+010.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5571533416388917218" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRoI1DPlMceXglrG5uPSruaEhoHWt0y2IrOah3jqY8Fj8Znjk_W_uYY2hJCdxB-9myzxHSwAN1hdtazeD6zZCrcbd3hiE1Ywlf5o-s9uYxt0vzCt1UTj1jEreN2EnhrxFcINTn6ElRb3M/s1600/gardner+1+031.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRoI1DPlMceXglrG5uPSruaEhoHWt0y2IrOah3jqY8Fj8Znjk_W_uYY2hJCdxB-9myzxHSwAN1hdtazeD6zZCrcbd3hiE1Ywlf5o-s9uYxt0vzCt1UTj1jEreN2EnhrxFcINTn6ElRb3M/s200/gardner+1+031.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5571533019986580130" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9JzA1ytka1I8_b3ggJrTi-03l8HvvnsiPTXEQKpwtq2FfS9KnfZPAZZEOzXmpFm6NR4xw2gg3rob8P7FN-vzWFIMcpZ2Wp4epC50N8cg72lAPfpoVoTwc-LVCn9JYhSfOxwiZ2QkNULs/s1600/gardner+1+024.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9JzA1ytka1I8_b3ggJrTi-03l8HvvnsiPTXEQKpwtq2FfS9KnfZPAZZEOzXmpFm6NR4xw2gg3rob8P7FN-vzWFIMcpZ2Wp4epC50N8cg72lAPfpoVoTwc-LVCn9JYhSfOxwiZ2QkNULs/s200/gardner+1+024.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5571532685369191826" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEEIGOKF1iAIg8MaaQW17D_xE5K3Gbxc4tl5GjaUBc0wHjQrFTUVgUP2Nyxv5pJbNCEM13TF9YqqlU8YxS_A_tUfAiR-8JQ4IRF1Lo-DY-ic8XYHsyNiivh2wnChQkc0fJigI_9YbIdUo/s1600/gardner+1+020.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEEIGOKF1iAIg8MaaQW17D_xE5K3Gbxc4tl5GjaUBc0wHjQrFTUVgUP2Nyxv5pJbNCEM13TF9YqqlU8YxS_A_tUfAiR-8JQ4IRF1Lo-DY-ic8XYHsyNiivh2wnChQkc0fJigI_9YbIdUo/s200/gardner+1+020.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5571532285355676066" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKxOuA8BRFx078pkMT5_YDjr3V4YtMto_yYN9eepiXBalV5K7FJxxv6TZrXJMloPMXdfwElxrUZ9RhNWXGRTxgMzjuGL6s5dbrQYsabKnNCq9G3aE3y26N6wnn9U8zQ3hOgHkc1Ecbuxk/s1600/gardner+1+017.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKxOuA8BRFx078pkMT5_YDjr3V4YtMto_yYN9eepiXBalV5K7FJxxv6TZrXJMloPMXdfwElxrUZ9RhNWXGRTxgMzjuGL6s5dbrQYsabKnNCq9G3aE3y26N6wnn9U8zQ3hOgHkc1Ecbuxk/s200/gardner+1+017.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5571531865128291954" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEFQ_uIsJFp2-k42qvDqqPZ9fQqcN4PYHWnBwR8P9EQFnKKU13WVrjgDsR0jbDQSbJz_fMSymhTkvHsUNCayEA3J3-DbkZNbC11AwqUgixrVgNipS3x6YIGeKcosTebWNwGw-v00yg8qE/s1600/gardner+1+023.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEFQ_uIsJFp2-k42qvDqqPZ9fQqcN4PYHWnBwR8P9EQFnKKU13WVrjgDsR0jbDQSbJz_fMSymhTkvHsUNCayEA3J3-DbkZNbC11AwqUgixrVgNipS3x6YIGeKcosTebWNwGw-v00yg8qE/s200/gardner+1+023.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5571531567991588178" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrVWpogONETLOmgXEBaKgkyjF2QpcurAPwtBRR-QjjEEyLtO-vFsCpn6C8WIi03dtYh-sfiGvfNojfbinyLtS6SoOLBQJTa1hS7Opr-zdCqxlvYSoN1Ahk-k-zgzjFEyBAAQUOVH8j5BQ/s1600/gardner+1+011.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrVWpogONETLOmgXEBaKgkyjF2QpcurAPwtBRR-QjjEEyLtO-vFsCpn6C8WIi03dtYh-sfiGvfNojfbinyLtS6SoOLBQJTa1hS7Opr-zdCqxlvYSoN1Ahk-k-zgzjFEyBAAQUOVH8j5BQ/s200/gardner+1+011.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5571531005712832178" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN347PEHTlIv7-aveICeFOiKWkeR52BaQWroP45uOSXOTTJuQWJYjyj1BVFMjxtLoxorUzQ6_oGwSGbRb_oCn6HVRLl4hLtcd3PSxixiiGqhzDDBD98VVtdCGQChzCXpFEmOfSU4KUMqw/s1600/gardner+1+005.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN347PEHTlIv7-aveICeFOiKWkeR52BaQWroP45uOSXOTTJuQWJYjyj1BVFMjxtLoxorUzQ6_oGwSGbRb_oCn6HVRLl4hLtcd3PSxixiiGqhzDDBD98VVtdCGQChzCXpFEmOfSU4KUMqw/s200/gardner+1+005.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5571530565345697362" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg_bz4Lh0WfIbncxszKIPeVfiunLoJxWBrYx4Ql-AmkUjxUKdPgeuMEC3jgpREH-9Zxk6AJxzk3ehpLN0-jsAhTITTCUjAXLNYEkq1_7OnY4Q0hSETPRJKpVoHwHCjSdyTTrCJa6YxkOk/s1600/gardner+1+002.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg_bz4Lh0WfIbncxszKIPeVfiunLoJxWBrYx4Ql-AmkUjxUKdPgeuMEC3jgpREH-9Zxk6AJxzk3ehpLN0-jsAhTITTCUjAXLNYEkq1_7OnY4Q0hSETPRJKpVoHwHCjSdyTTrCJa6YxkOk/s200/gardner+1+002.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5571530198485808322" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghcepvhOIM-v2P1bym1VbMXyRBcA6TtFK0IlYmvgEEuwAm1Zqmo1qq2rqm7j2nfAld5k5HZ4Qgy1DYaPVu9oob1fvYgOgQr2XafnByTaW9Qf52eFmCWXFp_8m5GWnNK__0SH66-hl3_dQ/s1600/Bozeman+008.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghcepvhOIM-v2P1bym1VbMXyRBcA6TtFK0IlYmvgEEuwAm1Zqmo1qq2rqm7j2nfAld5k5HZ4Qgy1DYaPVu9oob1fvYgOgQr2XafnByTaW9Qf52eFmCWXFp_8m5GWnNK__0SH66-hl3_dQ/s200/Bozeman+008.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5570775965656491346" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPBvZy-PVJ5nLG-wgkA6axS20PHBiWgB4aPRee5LbS5nIPhd3sJryrZtPPtg8gtCDN2tQ6NKOjJ0Go3gdqprmhKcvE7uHq5vQ01TrQYadifAnyKba172ZkG6j5vdu3gnXKRjCPdrMv-Tg/s1600/Bozeman+006.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPBvZy-PVJ5nLG-wgkA6axS20PHBiWgB4aPRee5LbS5nIPhd3sJryrZtPPtg8gtCDN2tQ6NKOjJ0Go3gdqprmhKcvE7uHq5vQ01TrQYadifAnyKba172ZkG6j5vdu3gnXKRjCPdrMv-Tg/s200/Bozeman+006.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5570775564605501938" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrDauAY4jeiBWjORRtW2skf3dEneprubKz1vC-_S5bmUCg58gIVG2UqU7T3q6bZBeNUcSwOYPyooq1gA8rX1gbLjJpF15DcLCSFtexahjVXjCIq54hLnh9jTO7Xo5a51ISLt-as2KlkJs/s1600/Bozeman+001.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrDauAY4jeiBWjORRtW2skf3dEneprubKz1vC-_S5bmUCg58gIVG2UqU7T3q6bZBeNUcSwOYPyooq1gA8rX1gbLjJpF15DcLCSFtexahjVXjCIq54hLnh9jTO7Xo5a51ISLt-as2KlkJs/s200/Bozeman+001.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5570775260227450050" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu-Cqoi0uMeIamgpxDLPxFBjMcXIMe_lYRLQpERpyF-XSAhikxL28MmlZoJLjhEyonJGjGpkdsjf_E52W_oiSHEMicAmXNB-sc25OVggcu6v9EtU-4bjMsx1s4N35IX4tbAINT3j_gcfE/s1600/100_1914.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu-Cqoi0uMeIamgpxDLPxFBjMcXIMe_lYRLQpERpyF-XSAhikxL28MmlZoJLjhEyonJGjGpkdsjf_E52W_oiSHEMicAmXNB-sc25OVggcu6v9EtU-4bjMsx1s4N35IX4tbAINT3j_gcfE/s200/100_1914.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5570691017176871682" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBO5R3PHzVrAeXRtI3WxsXbpm65qL3KnHUO7i_l8UmSFobQwtfcqkk5rh1VdQYqVbISUw481IFMdP34-XdDRoY8DsMbL3pcAAMYG8aRm3XEml3bEJvt6KI_W8OTqeN_Lf3YZ0dzZXNvHE/s1600/yellow+stone+2+040.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBO5R3PHzVrAeXRtI3WxsXbpm65qL3KnHUO7i_l8UmSFobQwtfcqkk5rh1VdQYqVbISUw481IFMdP34-XdDRoY8DsMbL3pcAAMYG8aRm3XEml3bEJvt6KI_W8OTqeN_Lf3YZ0dzZXNvHE/s200/yellow+stone+2+040.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5570457587692576706" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1RO-Z0m8JUcTpzX_tJBs_5gW7n1-gf_OtgApe4YdEpnJ75TPcPGx57ibayLxFnkiFPttHsC6Gy_MapW2m2u_5rukMG7dEaVQTee6OnLHtg6NRFe_r55TfusH-fT_lI1Z6ru_Q-Bh2erI/s1600/yellow+stone+2+009.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1RO-Z0m8JUcTpzX_tJBs_5gW7n1-gf_OtgApe4YdEpnJ75TPcPGx57ibayLxFnkiFPttHsC6Gy_MapW2m2u_5rukMG7dEaVQTee6OnLHtg6NRFe_r55TfusH-fT_lI1Z6ru_Q-Bh2erI/s200/yellow+stone+2+009.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5570457295555432114" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0BCusy5l7Eo0pfceUjxFeC76mA3uyrBCfHo0i5DqoZXJKqf94xs6X4NeLt1Acs4B3D0nJm2lVFyLmk_HrFyBXg0OMAKQHAebrKIgJYlw4cYmEBTeRzSiyM7HGoOJb2mOee5f6T4zXvc8/s1600/yellow+stone+2+028.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0BCusy5l7Eo0pfceUjxFeC76mA3uyrBCfHo0i5DqoZXJKqf94xs6X4NeLt1Acs4B3D0nJm2lVFyLmk_HrFyBXg0OMAKQHAebrKIgJYlw4cYmEBTeRzSiyM7HGoOJb2mOee5f6T4zXvc8/s200/yellow+stone+2+028.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5570456053374908850" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH6g0ALnokJN6k049N7S1XhnKKjGgjtsgVtt-XEhVKmzxEP_6uLQc4wCuHdNq3pJN6Dgwi_BBk9jgKCtblBuM0WvvD5D9JzlzdEFSaPoGhQqr4tC1cj7pZruyK8bqBhJdB3EdxwXmvENg/s1600/yellow+stone+2+026.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH6g0ALnokJN6k049N7S1XhnKKjGgjtsgVtt-XEhVKmzxEP_6uLQc4wCuHdNq3pJN6Dgwi_BBk9jgKCtblBuM0WvvD5D9JzlzdEFSaPoGhQqr4tC1cj7pZruyK8bqBhJdB3EdxwXmvENg/s200/yellow+stone+2+026.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5570455628882842770" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh55iHe8YC3Ixl9OpVfywfgisasGf4RQR67qDlIveoQ0yvxkX-UwTVfse_SN1knAPkkUwd1Sv8avxxPAAXII4WtmbuHXidpWFFWcWYVXSdP_zWUcNHHjgXJazwj9ZIrWs_pr1_BUhK8zJc/s1600/yellow+stone+2+036.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh55iHe8YC3Ixl9OpVfywfgisasGf4RQR67qDlIveoQ0yvxkX-UwTVfse_SN1knAPkkUwd1Sv8avxxPAAXII4WtmbuHXidpWFFWcWYVXSdP_zWUcNHHjgXJazwj9ZIrWs_pr1_BUhK8zJc/s200/yellow+stone+2+036.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5570455335324069634" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUnb6TjhScwb17Rh9QF-pUQ8iAj-sZEc05UglZCgzQ39i38qCu4Jp12ki6lqOV2x_0JtgtPagI1kxdjnIpcKRjgY9WDYSul-tLsmhNJsnRDKGyaxG168irDW4fMssfbc2-AgEKnoxJRuU/s1600/yellow+stone+2+024.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUnb6TjhScwb17Rh9QF-pUQ8iAj-sZEc05UglZCgzQ39i38qCu4Jp12ki6lqOV2x_0JtgtPagI1kxdjnIpcKRjgY9WDYSul-tLsmhNJsnRDKGyaxG168irDW4fMssfbc2-AgEKnoxJRuU/s200/yellow+stone+2+024.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5570455003889867362" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_R-rr4xc5P_Yg2BF8PHCYzr19z8UOcjk8n1E2emqhJu-kPTRQAFjxeVuhD1UIuZEmf7gderdeF9kIXH92BhkNezVfNIUMGuVRuUDen2Gwd5KRkkNwDH2Jr8BrmWPtC0aix5Fy5gELHZo/s1600/yellow+stone+2+001.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_R-rr4xc5P_Yg2BF8PHCYzr19z8UOcjk8n1E2emqhJu-kPTRQAFjxeVuhD1UIuZEmf7gderdeF9kIXH92BhkNezVfNIUMGuVRuUDen2Gwd5KRkkNwDH2Jr8BrmWPtC0aix5Fy5gELHZo/s200/yellow+stone+2+001.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5570454712057268690" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIXi4hw_0iXmTW0-JdK7g-Muw3eOcpe_QEjWL0IVFqEQqfq6QeDvt8S5WP3Fwb1Sp61z1yBv9PRO6CmCqRzOneuD3UULNvLcsVM6ZCnwbgeZLwqcnilDTlopyR7K1w0nEq0JD1XHJSc7M/s1600/yellow+stone+2+011.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIXi4hw_0iXmTW0-JdK7g-Muw3eOcpe_QEjWL0IVFqEQqfq6QeDvt8S5WP3Fwb1Sp61z1yBv9PRO6CmCqRzOneuD3UULNvLcsVM6ZCnwbgeZLwqcnilDTlopyR7K1w0nEq0JD1XHJSc7M/s200/yellow+stone+2+011.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5570454280148760994" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihhhibTSqSxiIRz4fAHf-7W54vGwEktpzWX5rzYaQw0b3gmuKWWsgpO1tSuYIjkLcsprXkvwzSvzHQa830SGbrHopICHCH6JCqOxF3U0srMOyod-D_cnUB7bJ3Tfiw2taUPmO9UNZOt-E/s1600/yellow+stone+2+035.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihhhibTSqSxiIRz4fAHf-7W54vGwEktpzWX5rzYaQw0b3gmuKWWsgpO1tSuYIjkLcsprXkvwzSvzHQa830SGbrHopICHCH6JCqOxF3U0srMOyod-D_cnUB7bJ3Tfiw2taUPmO9UNZOt-E/s200/yellow+stone+2+035.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5570453956785618226" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg32tZgLIiIaycLp6sx4rU4JSPWnU5fyU3PYWkmy9Xi6FIbAmKqgsJJtCEt7syoyYz9844g2ZKuASPGtEkXDQVtw1N8DpWpH64crOriLOsC5mhWihnTVeuq_spJDCBGrYeBatYkyVmZwFw/s1600/yellow+stone+2+006.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg32tZgLIiIaycLp6sx4rU4JSPWnU5fyU3PYWkmy9Xi6FIbAmKqgsJJtCEt7syoyYz9844g2ZKuASPGtEkXDQVtw1N8DpWpH64crOriLOsC5mhWihnTVeuq_spJDCBGrYeBatYkyVmZwFw/s200/yellow+stone+2+006.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5570453547593343954" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpSE7GZxQDRfbBrRF7UbJCM7VxpnZ2c9136qhdXQ5dQBhEp6Qcz8isxMkzh5xINQ1eFF6gn8Gw3mJbIH-L_HJOcN9C8yXdJVcTcpOlJExWclxCU8-3RZnIIj8wKsy9SQCSQV9sC4wdgxo/s1600/west+yellow+stone+1+035.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpSE7GZxQDRfbBrRF7UbJCM7VxpnZ2c9136qhdXQ5dQBhEp6Qcz8isxMkzh5xINQ1eFF6gn8Gw3mJbIH-L_HJOcN9C8yXdJVcTcpOlJExWclxCU8-3RZnIIj8wKsy9SQCSQV9sC4wdgxo/s200/west+yellow+stone+1+035.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5570190492177003426" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDuUStEMWyXy7E1wwRUWBy1Ixbd9qXLJpkRM8OcY6nAa1NvCPZMTclJ71HzinOAYZMoQ7ZBg8xonQSR7yUhY2M-dLERmNl4ufl29p1jj9DKlGPwUt42_rrwoXmTFmENM0KRaTCNYz6VeA/s1600/west+yellow+stone+1+013.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDuUStEMWyXy7E1wwRUWBy1Ixbd9qXLJpkRM8OcY6nAa1NvCPZMTclJ71HzinOAYZMoQ7ZBg8xonQSR7yUhY2M-dLERmNl4ufl29p1jj9DKlGPwUt42_rrwoXmTFmENM0KRaTCNYz6VeA/s200/west+yellow+stone+1+013.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5570190057947441794" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaS507H2yuGe4iVtjAMxJj-gF52n9t2uIqKrTXJf5aXpd5R31zUqEvULVe0R8LKWsQQkN5RftdRTKFdQ6f7EqG4AJj-Nt3g622jg9w8DUFo_ykLRn4jLt8t0XGinjwCfWoka1VH-S9WpY/s1600/west+yellow+stone+1+001.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaS507H2yuGe4iVtjAMxJj-gF52n9t2uIqKrTXJf5aXpd5R31zUqEvULVe0R8LKWsQQkN5RftdRTKFdQ6f7EqG4AJj-Nt3g622jg9w8DUFo_ykLRn4jLt8t0XGinjwCfWoka1VH-S9WpY/s200/west+yellow+stone+1+001.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5570189340833625858" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv8kORyLJIio4UWHvpEm22dYY4GSttLWtVAJM531xnMZFuRYh_DCZOrP2o-u4ON_VTNGs1xDWQX4xLTWhvlqfym002FDd5EzFNrPkWW6vYc8CrqUX76vjI5yxWGy2mw1HRvUJcclz-HoQ/s1600/west+yellow+stone+1+027.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv8kORyLJIio4UWHvpEm22dYY4GSttLWtVAJM531xnMZFuRYh_DCZOrP2o-u4ON_VTNGs1xDWQX4xLTWhvlqfym002FDd5EzFNrPkWW6vYc8CrqUX76vjI5yxWGy2mw1HRvUJcclz-HoQ/s200/west+yellow+stone+1+027.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5570187226756556898" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkUtJXkg0X6fLRvqh5wiIChpIJx0tmXv_rH0tJ_Dv5SqgUHuVsa_u-TyXKkot7k24iJY0Nxxot8MIcxJwAKoHdfKuIQ9_iqWHWftg8G6RBXe_NowNkVr-GB_1CWrUxw-8CPanCG6m_PR0/s1600/west+yellow+stone+1+004.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkUtJXkg0X6fLRvqh5wiIChpIJx0tmXv_rH0tJ_Dv5SqgUHuVsa_u-TyXKkot7k24iJY0Nxxot8MIcxJwAKoHdfKuIQ9_iqWHWftg8G6RBXe_NowNkVr-GB_1CWrUxw-8CPanCG6m_PR0/s200/west+yellow+stone+1+004.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5570186860017371362" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibrl8jMEP_Ku9naz-LrluMnyUc7Ss8GsN3te4glCZ-gtWsglXiO9dpmzBkhAB1D5Vhg0OVWdRrDgJGDdsnqKbRt59BTok4bDq-FM4p4DOXb_tyDq7TMk2oDqAsVRLrFLSB1RIlOqI9__E/s1600/west+yellow+stone+1+019.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibrl8jMEP_Ku9naz-LrluMnyUc7Ss8GsN3te4glCZ-gtWsglXiO9dpmzBkhAB1D5Vhg0OVWdRrDgJGDdsnqKbRt59BTok4bDq-FM4p4DOXb_tyDq7TMk2oDqAsVRLrFLSB1RIlOqI9__E/s200/west+yellow+stone+1+019.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5570186066782289650" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0QBZGMb7AjPYgWJoBUla8ifCBa2eIA5pQncn8n1ejTeHzRUwK_0nUSgucVtHUfI22SKPEyXzXsFCmjg7NOErrbJP0Uhxu4rmDwdcu3cVvvXVfU1OeTsPy3brPN1ocJSseIu3rRT0mXbw/s1600/west+yellow+stone+1+015.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0QBZGMb7AjPYgWJoBUla8ifCBa2eIA5pQncn8n1ejTeHzRUwK_0nUSgucVtHUfI22SKPEyXzXsFCmjg7NOErrbJP0Uhxu4rmDwdcu3cVvvXVfU1OeTsPy3brPN1ocJSseIu3rRT0mXbw/s200/west+yellow+stone+1+015.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5570184831538175154" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMnLRyHnDGhqfM14Tbp__sbuwTpKoNbRdZ52q75qQPR2eLTvX_pV7StWESijgu0TVBZ9qnW-HI-lF2h-d2FtL6V1NZMZZsmGHVd49U1hqH3h5blaZqCXcEbM54qq3_mL4KtMrzSFMCSP8/s1600/west+yellow+stone+1+023.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMnLRyHnDGhqfM14Tbp__sbuwTpKoNbRdZ52q75qQPR2eLTvX_pV7StWESijgu0TVBZ9qnW-HI-lF2h-d2FtL6V1NZMZZsmGHVd49U1hqH3h5blaZqCXcEbM54qq3_mL4KtMrzSFMCSP8/s200/west+yellow+stone+1+023.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5570184459726856610" /></a><br />a<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_CdusaFL-czLVr56nfMt9Bh35nfQhMHjXWx2XaGGSJHmDvXDrJng9rp70mRVqTwqqc-GHbxBAJzEy-iaRSSQS8L0kig-mo2ywlZEj1XFqLOpshyphenhyphencxyzB5We22TGqQcDik-MPWGcpoUlU/s1600/Jackson+hole+dog+team+024.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_CdusaFL-czLVr56nfMt9Bh35nfQhMHjXWx2XaGGSJHmDvXDrJng9rp70mRVqTwqqc-GHbxBAJzEy-iaRSSQS8L0kig-mo2ywlZEj1XFqLOpshyphenhyphencxyzB5We22TGqQcDik-MPWGcpoUlU/s200/Jackson+hole+dog+team+024.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5569828081953097282" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFY2dApBvsd_S17CLP3D8xz1Jqnjs51XvL5WZ-ooMIvj7qIRhYWQpDwnpUDM_CsCH6oGb0Fx2eZMiYFQpnsFy0rOSf2ij9lcZwacKX5Rs1n0yi-mh-VDdPFXhgRaOLZnjzbsERWS_gjs0/s1600/Jackson+hole+dog+team+042.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFY2dApBvsd_S17CLP3D8xz1Jqnjs51XvL5WZ-ooMIvj7qIRhYWQpDwnpUDM_CsCH6oGb0Fx2eZMiYFQpnsFy0rOSf2ij9lcZwacKX5Rs1n0yi-mh-VDdPFXhgRaOLZnjzbsERWS_gjs0/s200/Jackson+hole+dog+team+042.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5569827658881709906" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoj4pjMulCXoSl8_ELMeI5h94telgPGIK3EOWvDGXU1w0yDFTqyfmlow6vfW46SAs_SHpUkYFEVNKEV64p_-cqaX2l_TAIQo3koGl5R_X8Se9XEoEfGQEMAgJFgsP7U2GS3dNF2fUpiMA/s1600/Jackson+hole+dog+team+041.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoj4pjMulCXoSl8_ELMeI5h94telgPGIK3EOWvDGXU1w0yDFTqyfmlow6vfW46SAs_SHpUkYFEVNKEV64p_-cqaX2l_TAIQo3koGl5R_X8Se9XEoEfGQEMAgJFgsP7U2GS3dNF2fUpiMA/s200/Jackson+hole+dog+team+041.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5569827079156324642" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB63I_eFNWZjbO19bccbGIqWRT0QacQG-j6IuFjjf1jf0LGDMB-wf8LQEEw6AtKifZrX-pZuQR_tv5_U_pWuvm5ArM0y_exloXjy-lwVlT_MSFBNbDEO24FQ_Qcq2oN-7GvAejO3SRm8M/s1600/Jackson+hole+dog+team+025.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB63I_eFNWZjbO19bccbGIqWRT0QacQG-j6IuFjjf1jf0LGDMB-wf8LQEEw6AtKifZrX-pZuQR_tv5_U_pWuvm5ArM0y_exloXjy-lwVlT_MSFBNbDEO24FQ_Qcq2oN-7GvAejO3SRm8M/s200/Jackson+hole+dog+team+025.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5569826549235468082" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfCrPq0pp0jJxClzCUdzfyoetn-7-M1Gjs1FpJa3aHbXBU7Hpuj02zQLOFWk6kUeoBZEeT11iZA_16-oi9Cmx9PJjapMe6GMeXeesolM3XuL7RG_V4ZBGzV0sxbjfkO3wqIe7uoPRlg-M/s1600/Jackson+hole+dog+team+039.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfCrPq0pp0jJxClzCUdzfyoetn-7-M1Gjs1FpJa3aHbXBU7Hpuj02zQLOFWk6kUeoBZEeT11iZA_16-oi9Cmx9PJjapMe6GMeXeesolM3XuL7RG_V4ZBGzV0sxbjfkO3wqIe7uoPRlg-M/s200/Jackson+hole+dog+team+039.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5569825687363023906" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjYgqRu76kJTsbyYjqzlceejOhzON6gUFy9TQJzpBMG_O8rS-HzC_UYM27ljWu8CkmrnRQPZV1FDdQxbw3WEW3QryRS5-aS4IU7Jm0ulAIw2ZcGCfy6eWSL96iTnwB0t-cqSd6auVKoD8/s1600/Jackson+hole+dog+team+011.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjYgqRu76kJTsbyYjqzlceejOhzON6gUFy9TQJzpBMG_O8rS-HzC_UYM27ljWu8CkmrnRQPZV1FDdQxbw3WEW3QryRS5-aS4IU7Jm0ulAIw2ZcGCfy6eWSL96iTnwB0t-cqSd6auVKoD8/s200/Jackson+hole+dog+team+011.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5569825250495086722" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2R3PxAi21mQ7bMXNM9Ifl_QpUZl0QweTnee9bsRUBZxbN78C59pvfHUOKX_LX__HrGDYHFbYXup6eVlGgo6HIcQ65RZ9690xVQDFKB25m5Dea_fSD9rQ6eBbZ7mMtUJXmuJx2YlN8G24/s1600/Jackson+hole+dog+team+024.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2R3PxAi21mQ7bMXNM9Ifl_QpUZl0QweTnee9bsRUBZxbN78C59pvfHUOKX_LX__HrGDYHFbYXup6eVlGgo6HIcQ65RZ9690xVQDFKB25m5Dea_fSD9rQ6eBbZ7mMtUJXmuJx2YlN8G24/s200/Jackson+hole+dog+team+024.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5569824540450240370" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijZXxy_71aoZ6gMAh6Sth3NKoQ4gKhjuBrOFS59MiaOdHJcGmgqE1vlBVTc-21mgBsEi2eixDJwU0_uyz8Sntg4Kata9n0a72CQfs9_h5Kfocw2Shv4giMPHu6T1J9WeKeVvego8PcacQ/s1600/Jackson+hole+dog+team+001.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijZXxy_71aoZ6gMAh6Sth3NKoQ4gKhjuBrOFS59MiaOdHJcGmgqE1vlBVTc-21mgBsEi2eixDJwU0_uyz8Sntg4Kata9n0a72CQfs9_h5Kfocw2Shv4giMPHu6T1J9WeKeVvego8PcacQ/s200/Jackson+hole+dog+team+001.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5569824179036917890" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn-rtPRMcdENKRnr5d3f109lncFNXkySEiGhahxB6UcJZF_1vPwAKkLeG0cHzbcYyjJyi05FbZ9Iv_Da0tu5RkdokUIKchFeAEb0G6AbBmOkA_nksv5xEfG9mANoDr8ErAQEb96dIfq4I/s1600/Jackson+hole+dog+team+028.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn-rtPRMcdENKRnr5d3f109lncFNXkySEiGhahxB6UcJZF_1vPwAKkLeG0cHzbcYyjJyi05FbZ9Iv_Da0tu5RkdokUIKchFeAEb0G6AbBmOkA_nksv5xEfG9mANoDr8ErAQEb96dIfq4I/s200/Jackson+hole+dog+team+028.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5569823793074445826" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhklmra4mutsul3b6DflMC4UU05jmAEswva18zRLLJy22Y8OVuraF4PMklPWvNkkg-J6cGOmJnK1hTaz1Mo6iv5p2KkUHXyATi5K4e3pSRh3qc3lG9tYE6NUiw3c51QzWRZZPVly8nz7XE/s1600/Jackson+hole+dog+team+029.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhklmra4mutsul3b6DflMC4UU05jmAEswva18zRLLJy22Y8OVuraF4PMklPWvNkkg-J6cGOmJnK1hTaz1Mo6iv5p2KkUHXyATi5K4e3pSRh3qc3lG9tYE6NUiw3c51QzWRZZPVly8nz7XE/s200/Jackson+hole+dog+team+029.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5569823194042139650" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihKnJPtEDwOkG6l_4Kca4eYI7gFwk-Qp6UZxdAFtMQ5k27ujS6X6QXeigiTlkga3jQVANuwNSLge6rW2y9Y_1V-ufpmhstBmqHEI7GL7FmakTjEmKCQgxYFKucntnlci-YSOOhbBe-A7U/s1600/Jackson+hole+dog+team+027.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihKnJPtEDwOkG6l_4Kca4eYI7gFwk-Qp6UZxdAFtMQ5k27ujS6X6QXeigiTlkga3jQVANuwNSLge6rW2y9Y_1V-ufpmhstBmqHEI7GL7FmakTjEmKCQgxYFKucntnlci-YSOOhbBe-A7U/s200/Jackson+hole+dog+team+027.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5569822741327907810" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFaHTGuidmBcunrUmKbHUKAFmPQXF5IF4LB38URLFTvqiQ5CK4lz4mg7eS5YcWdsC-tP2f3sLzGDcadoO_J_jpOKFDCPHW_NRXeoULRl9sOnobOxAfQMX3vQ7aa3BukHT6GOOtLGe0DP0/s1600/Jackson+hole+dog+team+035.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFaHTGuidmBcunrUmKbHUKAFmPQXF5IF4LB38URLFTvqiQ5CK4lz4mg7eS5YcWdsC-tP2f3sLzGDcadoO_J_jpOKFDCPHW_NRXeoULRl9sOnobOxAfQMX3vQ7aa3BukHT6GOOtLGe0DP0/s200/Jackson+hole+dog+team+035.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5569822080567274146" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLWTumbtaYDx63ky0Qc2H_bMzG2jtybXnALbqaWmXGuXY8n20tDmgWnw6_UchrD5H0XejIeGh5P1V8aIdiFzIV5fc5yGmZoTftgOdTxx9UF8Rbcs3YewvQRnKPQAAqfMsBR25sxB0CqRg/s1600/Jackson+hole+dog+team+030.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLWTumbtaYDx63ky0Qc2H_bMzG2jtybXnALbqaWmXGuXY8n20tDmgWnw6_UchrD5H0XejIeGh5P1V8aIdiFzIV5fc5yGmZoTftgOdTxx9UF8Rbcs3YewvQRnKPQAAqfMsBR25sxB0CqRg/s200/Jackson+hole+dog+team+030.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5569821026091212546" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR3aZb5NjQspliSFjM1w7QZj7bI1PWRLL6EIzOrtiLa3jTLD1maVYBfzq0ytiRG1bar89_o0zRxAtfIDehj25zvjm7jblxrf0Sf87t_vy3b0HH-iSxJKP6_XjsJAehFpY4aDO2PH3LuQE/s1600/jackson+hole+2+009.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR3aZb5NjQspliSFjM1w7QZj7bI1PWRLL6EIzOrtiLa3jTLD1maVYBfzq0ytiRG1bar89_o0zRxAtfIDehj25zvjm7jblxrf0Sf87t_vy3b0HH-iSxJKP6_XjsJAehFpY4aDO2PH3LuQE/s200/jackson+hole+2+009.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5569299518743254994" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvdg4JtBj4h-gJrptyn-27bnro5lh4XgAJyGnaRKfhRKvYG5jh2n3p5ZMeC1uSDVABwDBaSlk5cbDG81mB-00rwpXTaPN0IwqAtDRDu_lvIy5dOIi1-dPFxTfs1QENMqeAckeyWSC2umQ/s1600/Jackson+hole+1+022.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvdg4JtBj4h-gJrptyn-27bnro5lh4XgAJyGnaRKfhRKvYG5jh2n3p5ZMeC1uSDVABwDBaSlk5cbDG81mB-00rwpXTaPN0IwqAtDRDu_lvIy5dOIi1-dPFxTfs1QENMqeAckeyWSC2umQ/s320/Jackson+hole+1+022.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568945363104098290" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC2oaLBRcx_W_zzW3eGTruNkY8utuqwKcpV0XEuSnTLGWA73bM-uBNOmptXF3C7-VTH8T6EAceAs-90plKHo1EdI9ikMF4ajjjGaDVmn-h0WMa_XP_1wVDLLycHWr3Fko1QrjySIx5zcU/s1600/Jackson+hole+1+004.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC2oaLBRcx_W_zzW3eGTruNkY8utuqwKcpV0XEuSnTLGWA73bM-uBNOmptXF3C7-VTH8T6EAceAs-90plKHo1EdI9ikMF4ajjjGaDVmn-h0WMa_XP_1wVDLLycHWr3Fko1QrjySIx5zcU/s320/Jackson+hole+1+004.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568944987296031474" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlSrpbCQlNOO72xeIJWJPxxJNX7Vw5TLZsMWWu1wvRmgj-evzt6gTRvCnyT0G-GDwXEtEQEVVGQzNJQsdu1UfhPvKw9L9ldN3ZoM9wl5uuYP4f56BPrlSSrQrG1YxRjLvtiFnOpqSvOt0/s1600/Jackson+hole+1+002.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlSrpbCQlNOO72xeIJWJPxxJNX7Vw5TLZsMWWu1wvRmgj-evzt6gTRvCnyT0G-GDwXEtEQEVVGQzNJQsdu1UfhPvKw9L9ldN3ZoM9wl5uuYP4f56BPrlSSrQrG1YxRjLvtiFnOpqSvOt0/s320/Jackson+hole+1+002.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568944481082325938" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpAhI1cPRBWK7geNqk0nwUqyTslidgSxe2VcLpP810Ia-5u4zlKtkpU5P0ZxQMbti0u-IKWKx_2WMozXEsPHYwDz3LNdVuZdE3OK0PmiTMlW-H9Y8LGQeXeWLVlixDqJS2hwZhYmnU3Xk/s1600/Jackson+hole+1+033.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpAhI1cPRBWK7geNqk0nwUqyTslidgSxe2VcLpP810Ia-5u4zlKtkpU5P0ZxQMbti0u-IKWKx_2WMozXEsPHYwDz3LNdVuZdE3OK0PmiTMlW-H9Y8LGQeXeWLVlixDqJS2hwZhYmnU3Xk/s320/Jackson+hole+1+033.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568943986754021650" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIJeA4txXod9t_Kakz25B4Uk-VGfOJjz8g88B0mm5I6MWHnYmT1UqAKX2fdL2yhs4R-4V1hRppi3TaHSw4b1aMqo9HZ1XmwqsF6dfdWU5GHTKbJp0Xw04Wv5ZXHy57NmosogY1TuIgHWA/s1600/Jackson+hole+1+025.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIJeA4txXod9t_Kakz25B4Uk-VGfOJjz8g88B0mm5I6MWHnYmT1UqAKX2fdL2yhs4R-4V1hRppi3TaHSw4b1aMqo9HZ1XmwqsF6dfdWU5GHTKbJp0Xw04Wv5ZXHy57NmosogY1TuIgHWA/s320/Jackson+hole+1+025.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568943413746550818" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXpRAeImtHXR3f5N7DgWb-lef0LoWrNMXxEfRmDHg8p_OFmvEc74i3KHcWCtC1dS9p8y5faA-sGzHYupllx_r5WrZIV7QMd0fPU-XxyudKP2NlNmfsvrmD-ntJNUyHPQN0n7zv-nnKHFQ/s1600/Jackson+hole+1+018.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXpRAeImtHXR3f5N7DgWb-lef0LoWrNMXxEfRmDHg8p_OFmvEc74i3KHcWCtC1dS9p8y5faA-sGzHYupllx_r5WrZIV7QMd0fPU-XxyudKP2NlNmfsvrmD-ntJNUyHPQN0n7zv-nnKHFQ/s320/Jackson+hole+1+018.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568942951853491186" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZzrwe3IUoYcDDiNtzXrDz8k4oGdBJiStSTPegedseRl6fKlcA68kjyj_XVN1jmiG-O9VAgEu1oe9tdekHdVe95r9bgmh4iKaBC9tewvzA60QVqEImNdeh6bc4lIIiG0VtBObcLH8emoA/s1600/Jackson+hole+1+011.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZzrwe3IUoYcDDiNtzXrDz8k4oGdBJiStSTPegedseRl6fKlcA68kjyj_XVN1jmiG-O9VAgEu1oe9tdekHdVe95r9bgmh4iKaBC9tewvzA60QVqEImNdeh6bc4lIIiG0VtBObcLH8emoA/s320/Jackson+hole+1+011.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568942535018172706" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQiGjUU2dBDoX6tm9ttNOAWT3PEdR5MmSwy-Ykt7G0MmEVoVvsElPPcDMWRzkp38CzBgf7u7UmlgkLIh-iPQu_T8Uo2MbUVPCPpvYLTE_S1X7L-BBHV9hTs8_9DSmU2mp6OJ5iAz4mw58/s1600/Jackson+hole+1+013.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQiGjUU2dBDoX6tm9ttNOAWT3PEdR5MmSwy-Ykt7G0MmEVoVvsElPPcDMWRzkp38CzBgf7u7UmlgkLIh-iPQu_T8Uo2MbUVPCPpvYLTE_S1X7L-BBHV9hTs8_9DSmU2mp6OJ5iAz4mw58/s320/Jackson+hole+1+013.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568940292977614434" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHW4TFHRjhyjyfl1uhnPignIikrCClh2d4O6k71uH01zvm00yqDYNaJd6FzAoX91cko-v6Mhrja7vRFl_b6W5K1z7Sj260UnGfpbDlrfrn1w_cx7bw3w1Pvx8d94jLJUxmUFbMC-beuqI/s1600/steamboat+2+001.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHW4TFHRjhyjyfl1uhnPignIikrCClh2d4O6k71uH01zvm00yqDYNaJd6FzAoX91cko-v6Mhrja7vRFl_b6W5K1z7Sj260UnGfpbDlrfrn1w_cx7bw3w1Pvx8d94jLJUxmUFbMC-beuqI/s320/steamboat+2+001.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568507710222117394" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3Q8mvXz5pqdWp-ZX2eZit8otJRwCXzZ5zOK5TlKKajoW9cOI0UEA911rVXnaltYxBv9P-iPzbjEjNhDPJazdUpMGwfuOBYBmkUgCPKvpsWxlw8_9GQRbayPk57WVYz7cRNuNlUdYdbag/s1600/steamboat+2+002.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3Q8mvXz5pqdWp-ZX2eZit8otJRwCXzZ5zOK5TlKKajoW9cOI0UEA911rVXnaltYxBv9P-iPzbjEjNhDPJazdUpMGwfuOBYBmkUgCPKvpsWxlw8_9GQRbayPk57WVYz7cRNuNlUdYdbag/s320/steamboat+2+002.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568507422296426242" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO-vZsF4X40CvNEdHkCMkGERuET7dXj-k-HV9tOnhQst_CclqIfshorOQXgTOX9iAOUfm_vToyTH-0NTggDkpO_uen4wiKns6b8W1ibhgR7r3YpwHv8EI776PcVeg4NKdjbKbtAjFSctc/s1600/steamboat+2+004.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO-vZsF4X40CvNEdHkCMkGERuET7dXj-k-HV9tOnhQst_CclqIfshorOQXgTOX9iAOUfm_vToyTH-0NTggDkpO_uen4wiKns6b8W1ibhgR7r3YpwHv8EI776PcVeg4NKdjbKbtAjFSctc/s320/steamboat+2+004.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568507019372541026" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8JVzdGAo4R3yZPQs1l_SWoXaAck4KZbLgYN2wRLKUemukAdRbUrk6aWOhr4lRwLr1rjSR9vMSn9PJweZ6jZdh2EmxJhYfgut7geiaUURHSw6y3A46dm4Kb_3UCyr_lKGhwDoxLVFO17s/s1600/steamboat+2+005.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8JVzdGAo4R3yZPQs1l_SWoXaAck4KZbLgYN2wRLKUemukAdRbUrk6aWOhr4lRwLr1rjSR9vMSn9PJweZ6jZdh2EmxJhYfgut7geiaUURHSw6y3A46dm4Kb_3UCyr_lKGhwDoxLVFO17s/s320/steamboat+2+005.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568506444595239042" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnuzAz_yUkQ4LhcXUxu3Rgw5kTmI0o_ZLOCrO05PLOg2_a5Xq0FPCzNv-B3I1XxwmFsYU9xZE3iSTcdrB_HhgerJZufybIh3DpcAaaSW8747wrheOb0pe0RpXIkFHX71KIj5DSFl5krDw/s1600/100_6101.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnuzAz_yUkQ4LhcXUxu3Rgw5kTmI0o_ZLOCrO05PLOg2_a5Xq0FPCzNv-B3I1XxwmFsYU9xZE3iSTcdrB_HhgerJZufybIh3DpcAaaSW8747wrheOb0pe0RpXIkFHX71KIj5DSFl5krDw/s320/100_6101.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568364237466725986" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPbaz5ktXFTkvkHCwbGBetP-qze7y72a3EkcHqe4aw3KEga27uRYYD008v0e7ZoLv2FQlus6Ub0y6vR_WnMRjtyH__Etlwwoa8qZ15UvGqNfYVwI0-r1LYJ0AsNaXtUeZi_GPVsKI8-8E/s1600/100_6100.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPbaz5ktXFTkvkHCwbGBetP-qze7y72a3EkcHqe4aw3KEga27uRYYD008v0e7ZoLv2FQlus6Ub0y6vR_WnMRjtyH__Etlwwoa8qZ15UvGqNfYVwI0-r1LYJ0AsNaXtUeZi_GPVsKI8-8E/s320/100_6100.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568363588985253858" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIza4mINvgMM0p4xVoUoXPed_VxNqPY_i3_aXcYHQU9gGKPjO3mXPRWR5v6I1pzBXTNLGulb6Rw7Ry9NZZTJPEi0sROuUZXZwi4Eqs_f5LQ3P46vbChB_5Z00Rk72uJKVMj_9Bn6PV4TQ/s1600/100_6092.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIza4mINvgMM0p4xVoUoXPed_VxNqPY_i3_aXcYHQU9gGKPjO3mXPRWR5v6I1pzBXTNLGulb6Rw7Ry9NZZTJPEi0sROuUZXZwi4Eqs_f5LQ3P46vbChB_5Z00Rk72uJKVMj_9Bn6PV4TQ/s320/100_6092.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568363110419568274" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBJb-GS8EFSar7TN3fW3n0FFuIlOvBk9qtoJ6-21Goy1XisZqU-FPqCfpjkk4hwhWITBvYZVXHBT8zbhRtlcY64fxZhd1MVcsDx7FnS2N-s6KLtj-vk14H3EGu_hCjBdkDLOeaGcedWHc/s1600/100_6088.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBJb-GS8EFSar7TN3fW3n0FFuIlOvBk9qtoJ6-21Goy1XisZqU-FPqCfpjkk4hwhWITBvYZVXHBT8zbhRtlcY64fxZhd1MVcsDx7FnS2N-s6KLtj-vk14H3EGu_hCjBdkDLOeaGcedWHc/s320/100_6088.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568362670844031762" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitDecbfhpHCegHM5YOpqdssg70ZtY5nAEuRtuVjpLv7ViweMuI_zT342W9UeZwJmw9QWcvJic-uBgKT2I1aRM_me66Sgg22DSj372iRKFZp0itub98QwofCS8NE6LCRjcqKpN73sAqaXI/s1600/100_6090.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitDecbfhpHCegHM5YOpqdssg70ZtY5nAEuRtuVjpLv7ViweMuI_zT342W9UeZwJmw9QWcvJic-uBgKT2I1aRM_me66Sgg22DSj372iRKFZp0itub98QwofCS8NE6LCRjcqKpN73sAqaXI/s320/100_6090.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568361922873316530" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRDgyEth1QfCX8_AVbjJ4R4qzDsDF6w-Go4kA1jwqRy-NJ6IHKUEAh1ibChkzmZbsx65Wk8k5BQJKzzeIZQpJIo-QZsfHcSwBY7KkpbQ2YqWKLCy1a3Ht7Bl8vsozytJmZ_PYUQkgVcz0/s1600/100_6089.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRDgyEth1QfCX8_AVbjJ4R4qzDsDF6w-Go4kA1jwqRy-NJ6IHKUEAh1ibChkzmZbsx65Wk8k5BQJKzzeIZQpJIo-QZsfHcSwBY7KkpbQ2YqWKLCy1a3Ht7Bl8vsozytJmZ_PYUQkgVcz0/s320/100_6089.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568360777523697138" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHvDy3wtq3wYqXWRAkUoQLy-Q8s9rpBtWPc9Qhm4SxkExSE6X_tesoi1fEFBEYPnWmokGbkFz9ecp9bn1wSqMad2JVISp1fB-uaYRfxE77s6h98SErWQ-viPzdUmJDUCzfPrxFWrOY9O4/s1600/100_6086.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHvDy3wtq3wYqXWRAkUoQLy-Q8s9rpBtWPc9Qhm4SxkExSE6X_tesoi1fEFBEYPnWmokGbkFz9ecp9bn1wSqMad2JVISp1fB-uaYRfxE77s6h98SErWQ-viPzdUmJDUCzfPrxFWrOY9O4/s320/100_6086.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568350796933313714" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrpjvA1iPJTXdxzQXS-camkRuvzNqBSmeREJ23JISXBgBftMnR7NcWtaBOVsKf_V3ILR68xDsOQa0TNst7Xd-V2F-xiz3-s2490MXl-k4_iifyWBLIArxPaY73f8U29fLhDJ6Davwziu8/s1600/100_6085.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrpjvA1iPJTXdxzQXS-camkRuvzNqBSmeREJ23JISXBgBftMnR7NcWtaBOVsKf_V3ILR68xDsOQa0TNst7Xd-V2F-xiz3-s2490MXl-k4_iifyWBLIArxPaY73f8U29fLhDJ6Davwziu8/s320/100_6085.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568349776569980162" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHcIFRuTht_CgE01UPXc7TSKUYSKPPFsKTjejmdhSNDS2SDYXsxH4vPkVrmUD35Q9e-mqSgdbY5-6GyQHzYJay2RbjaCD3dvC9A-6nkhyOGrqZ2d-zl5yRemaWMOohyphenhyphenBVyWQBXJau8HMI/s1600/100_6079.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHcIFRuTht_CgE01UPXc7TSKUYSKPPFsKTjejmdhSNDS2SDYXsxH4vPkVrmUD35Q9e-mqSgdbY5-6GyQHzYJay2RbjaCD3dvC9A-6nkhyOGrqZ2d-zl5yRemaWMOohyphenhyphenBVyWQBXJau8HMI/s320/100_6079.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568179032844280738" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRGQxnRmhcdqpnwzKsLh5bTZBcsNSjt19E7lXFaBp7jgAGtbKKls19oHLKL0olIuj-ehTkMe5tMqJ22M4PRKex0UapUi6Woy6LOoZvtKsdL3DbCjEZbbCK1ZnY7iWpWqF9bCtO3-j8LFY/s1600/100_6075.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRGQxnRmhcdqpnwzKsLh5bTZBcsNSjt19E7lXFaBp7jgAGtbKKls19oHLKL0olIuj-ehTkMe5tMqJ22M4PRKex0UapUi6Woy6LOoZvtKsdL3DbCjEZbbCK1ZnY7iWpWqF9bCtO3-j8LFY/s320/100_6075.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568159883586830498" /></a><br />WINTER WALK ABOUT or SKI ABOUT !!<br />Down Hill Ski + Cross Country Ski+Hot Spring<br />!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!<br /> I have planned a winter road adventure starting from Denver, Colorado on January 30th thru March 2nd.<br />If you have been reading my blogs in the past you know what kind of trip it will be. As I visit each place I will report on my blog what I have found and who I have met. <br />*********************************<br />STEAMBOAT SPRINGS COLORADO<br />* Day 1 I have made it to Steamboat,I should say Stanley Lambchops and I have made it in one piece. My grand daughter Ella who is a second grade student at Heritage Hall Lower School,in Oklahhoma City, has sent me Flat Stanley and he needs to see the world. I understand that a bulletin board was hung above Stanley's bed by his father and during the night the board fell on top of poor Stanley and squished him flat,like a pancake, but thinner.I'll have pictures of Stanley as we visit different areas along the way. We left Denver at 6:00 am and the traffic was very light. By 7:00 am we where on top of Berthoud Pass and the temperature was 2 below. The skies were clear and the sunrise red in tint, was licking the tops of the 12,000 foot peaks, turning the whole mountain range into an unbelievable moment. By 9:00am we where crossing Rabbit Ears Pass and hundreds of snowmobilers had their machines zooming at top speed across the open fields.I was able to check into my Steamboat Springs Hotel at 10:00 am, which worked out great. I unloaded heaps of stuff and changed into my cross country clothes.Forty-five minutes out of town, a road leads to Buffalo Pass. The forest service only plows the snow for a short distance. From this point it's every man for himself taking in snowshoes, cross country skis, backcountry skis, or snow mobiles. The area is covered with aspen trees and with the mountains getting 200 inches of snow this winter, it's perfecto mundo baby! I cross country skied for four hours and the weather was very nice. I followed a trail for a while and then decided to make my own to the top of a ridge to experience a panoramic view. Going back down the mountain with cross country skis proved to be fun, if you're in to that sort of thing. The temps in downtown Steamboat were down right cold, but up on the mountain, I almost baked in all my winter clothes. I talked to a forest service fella that had a close encounter with a tree while in his snow mobile. He was loading pieces of the machine into the back of his truck. I drove to the Strawberry Park Hot Springs. Lucky for me and my truck the steep twisty road leading to the springs, was just covered in melting black mushy mud, rather then pure ice. The hot springs has that 1960's hippie dippy feel to it. I was taking a picture of Stanley and me next to the hot springs sign when the gate master came out to the parking lot to see what in the world I was doing. He had a hot date down by pool side so he wanted me to pay, so he could mosey on back down there. I had to get him to hold Stanley while I fished for my wallet, but Stan didn't seem to mind. The springs has a log cabin for changing your clothes, with curtains dividing off each section, into six little spaces. I lost my balance and grabbed the curtain when I had one pant off and the other leg caught and I thought I was going to pull down the whole contraption. It would have been quite the sight, six semi naked people all rolled up in a curtain! There were four pools of steaming hot water. The hottest must have been 106 degrees and then to the coldest which was the creek, probably 50 degrees. The pool was constructed of native stones and the floors where lined with soft sand, very nice. A hot spring came right out of the hill side to provide the water. In fact that was the only rule, don't climb up the rocky hill, and mess with the scorching water. After dark it's nude bathing for those folks that want to let it all hang out! EASY STOMACH DON'T TURN!! Tomorrow I go down hill skiing yipeeee! I can see the ski run from my bath room window, almost like seeing Russia. A bus will pick me up right in front of the motel, what service! <br />On the 150 mile ride over to Steamboat and sitting in the hot springs with Stanley, I got to know him a lot better. Stan was nervous when he found out about nude bathing, to him it would be like a blank sheet of paper! His biggest fears, not in any particular order are paper cuts, being creased and after getting older being left by a phone and used as a grocery list or a message about a DR's. appointment for gout!! I found out why Stanley was so excited about coming with me on this month road trip, a boy had used Stan as a book marker. Oh Lordy, I thought I would never hear the end of that, it was a book with out pictures and had little tiny print. When we drove by a body piercing shop, Stan just sat back in his seat, I guess just the sound of a stapler, especially in the hands of a nervous boy sends Stanley over the edge. At least Stanley slept well last night, I have to keep him out of direct sunlight ( even though he is acid free) and strong winds. I guess that's why he tightens his seat belt when he opens the truck window!<br /> * Jan 31 day 2 Stan and I woke up to snow falling, well we did come for skiing da! A bus came and picked us up right in front of the motel, and took us right to the ticket window of Steamboat Ski. For $105.00, Stan thought we had bought part of the mountain but I told him we just helped somebody make their boat payment! The ski area is huge with almost 3,000 acres of skiable land. We rode the gondola up to the half way point of the mountain. Then we got off and rode a open lift to the summit at Storm Peak, which fit the description today. Visibility of 100 feet and falling snow made for some interesting skiing. Everybody looked like ghosts with brightly colored outfits due to the fog. By lunch time I found my way back to the gondala station and sat at a table and nursed a cup of hot chocolate for 45 minutes. Looking at the trail map a tad closer,I found a slope that was blue with some nice long runs. I did this slope five times in a row and then continued down the mountain, to a bus back home. <br /> After a quick change at my motel, Stan and I drove to the Old Town Hot Springs. There are four different size and temp. pools. There is also a lap pool that has warm water. Even though I swim like a rock tied to an anchor I managed to swim laps for 30 minutes. Back in the pools I met a few locals that come to the hot springs quite often. Wyatt and Sarah almost took notes when I told them about the different places I had hiked and biked. I better go, Stan is a little upset, he was watching TV and there was a commercial for Charmen toilet paper and he thinks it was his cousins<br />*****************************<br />Steamboat Springs is a ski resort town set in the Colorado Rockies but with a cowboy flair to its' moods. After a day of downhill skiing I’ll hit the natural hot springs. Two world famous hot springs are found here,one is in town and the other called Strawberry Hot Springs is located outside of town and is the one I will visit.<br />++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++<br />JACKSON HOLE WYOMING<br />Jackson Hole is a western town that lies against the Grand Tetons. Large elk herds are known to winter in the valley and can be seen from a viewing platform. After downhill skiing I’ll pick up Pam my wife, at the airport. Pam and I will take a dog sled team into Granite Hot Springs.<br />*DAY 3<br />Feb 1st: Last night I went to dinner at an old friend's house in town. Pete and his family are living the good life skiing and snowmobiling and doing lots of hard work to pay for all of it. Their 10 year old son Jacob, who has been playing the violin for five years put on a classic show-and it wasn't Little Brown Jug!<br /> This morning Stan and I awoke to 3 below zero and falling snow, so we got on the road by 6:00 am. We drove through some blinding ground blizzards when we entered Wyoming.I couldn't wait to get on I-81 because I was under the false hopes that it would be clear-WRONG!! The ground blizzards combined with millions of semi-truck tires turned the freeway into an ice skating rink 100 miles long. You know it's bad if the big trucks are only doing 30 mph. I saw a sign that said Rock Springs 16 miles and the road almost by magic cleared. I stopped at a McDonald's for some hot chocolate and to ungrip the steering wheel for a few minutes. I met two older men who were born and raised here. Rich's father came to the area from Spain in 1918 and Herman's dad came from Austria during the same time period. I couldn't imagine coming to wind blown Wyoming from beautiful Austria. His dad's name was John,and was a barrel maker,but people called him Pedro which means barrel maker in Austria. Rich's dad worked in the local coal mines but was killed falling into a mine machine,before Rich was born.<br /> After talking with these fine gentlemen, I drove north without the glare ice and had dry roads all the way. The closer I got to Jackson Hole the more beautiful it became. Big Horn Sheep and Elk dotted the hill sides as I took in the scenery. By 3:00 pm I had checked into the Super 8 at Jackson Hole and dropped my gear and then off I went. First stop was the visitor center to find out about the Elk Refuge. The center is done very nicely with lots of interesting items and people. I drove to the refuge and there must of been a thousand elk in the open fields between two mountain ranges. A homesteader's cabin sat on the edge of the field,set up for a Kodak moment.A sharp pointed mountain made for a dramatic back drop in the distance. <br /> Then I drove back to town to take some pictures of town scenes. The center park is entered through four gates made of discarded elk antlers and the gates are 14 feet tall and 12 feet wide, it's massive. Around the gates I noticed a group of Japanese students who were holding up signs that read FREE HUGS!! I took two since the students said they where free!! Stan took one! Then I saw a movie poster for True Grit starting in 5 minutes, so Stan and I strolled in and enjoyed ourselves.<br /> After watching the western movie and talking with my two new friends, Rich and Herman, Stan had some revelations to talk to me about. He believes in "re-in-card-ation,at which I said, "you mean reincarnation", "not in my case, it would be card!" Stan said. He told me as we drove through Baggs Wyoming he remembered back when he was a wanted poster in the 1800's for the Wild Bunch! Butch and the gang would use Stanley to get inside information, where ever he was posted, especially banks and post offices. Stan wanted to go with Sundance and Butch to Bolivia but they didn't want their picture passed around in South America! <br /> #Day 4: Stan and I woke up to a chilly morning of 24 below zero!! The sun made the outside look warmer so we put on three layers of clothes and headed to the Jackson Hole Ski area, and I am so glad we did. On top of the mountain it was 24 above and we had wonderful-perfect-outstanding views as we got off the gondola. The views were so good that after skiing I drove back to the motel and got my camera. The area has something for everybody with some cliff jumping thrown in for good measure. We skied until 3:00 pm and that gave just enough time to pick up Pam at the airport.<br /> Stan told Pam that he would rather put his hand in a paper shreader than jump off one of those cliffs!<br />* DAY 5 Pam, Stan and I awoke to tad warmer temps 16 below zero! At 8:00 am our ride arrived to take us to the event of a life time, a dog sled ride to a hot springs! Jackson Hole Iditarod at 1-800-554-7388 is the way to go for us greenies that have never even seen a dog sled. The van that picked us up was full of guests that were just as excited as we were. A couple from North Carolina, Tim and Kara,who happened to be on their honeymoon where going to do the full day with us. A group of six Mexicans from Mexico City with cute kids were going to do the half day. After a short van ride along side some beautiful cliffs and beside a partially frozen river we arrived at dog heaven. 150 Alaskan Huskies and three guides met us at the dog kennel-slash office. Three sickly older dogs where being taken care of with tender loving care. In the same meeting room we learned a few basic mushing skills for nonmushers. The room smelled of wet dogs, protein rich dog food and my socks that I hadn't changed since I left Denver! I didn't mind the smell but the smaller kids had their noses covered with woolen mittens. Every type of warm clothing was offered for those guests that needed to add to their wardrobe. The outfits would have made a polar bear green with envy!<br /> Amanda, one of the most experienced guides was luckily assigned to our group. Once on the outside of the kennel we came face to face with our four legged pulling machines, the huskies!Each of the dogs has its' own doggy house made out of giant recycled wooden spools,that at one time held electric wire. A small door was cut into the spool, then straw was packed inside for the dogs to bed down on. As Amanda hooked up the six dogs to Pam and my sled she told us about the in's and out's of dog mushing. She pointed to a rubber mat that was covered with short spikes that was going to be used to slow down the dogs by me standing on it and dragging it in the snow. Then she pointed out the metal bar that held two long spikes that would be our braking system. The basic training took all of two minutes which is usually the length of my attention span anyway!<br /> The dogs where so excited about getting out on the trail that they were jumping straight up into the air, but fortunately they were lashed to a lead rope or they might have floated into the sky. Amanda was with the lead team and we followed, with an occasional burst of energy from our dogs as they tried to pass the other team. The trail worked its' way through the Bridger-Teton National Forest and it was breath taking to say the least. We stopped every once in a while to rest the dogs and take pictures for those poor devils back home who only dream of handling a dog team. As a kid growing up during the past century I always dreamed of handling a dog sled, just like Sargent Preston of the Yukon!<br /> Now it was time for Pam,the Princess Puppy Pusher to take over and for me to climb into the sled and act like cargo. The look on her face was priceless as the dogs seemed to respond to her touch. It's hard to describe but it is something of a simple pleasure to be standing on those sled runners and to have the dogs pull us along with the brisk air in your face. As I was trying to fall asleep last night I could still feel the crunchy snow under the runners of the sled and could feel the dogs pulling my inner soul onward, over hill and dale!<br /> By afternoon we arrived at the Granite Hot Springs with much anticipation from all the mushers. Even though the temperatures were in the teens the bright sun reflecting off the snow made it bearable. I might mention the only way to get into the hot springs area during the winter is by dog team or snowmobile. We all headed to the clean changing rooms and within minutes had towels hanging over our shoulders ready for the 112 degree natural hot springs coming out of the snow covered rocks. The whole pool bathing area had been built by the CCC during the depression of the 1930's. It has been recently updated, but the steaming hot water still comes directly out of a rock wall,like it has been since time began. The pool is five feet deep on one end and two feet deep where the seasoned dog team drivers entered. Amnada let us soak in the hot springs so long that my fingers turned into prunie appendages!<br /> We all went down to a picnic table covered with a bright table cloth- these mushers know how to serve a meal! Pam and I had trout and Tim and Kara had steak and trout. A tricky raven had flown down from its' perch and snatched away Tim's steak while Amnada was calling for us to come and get it. The dirty bird had also managed to take the lid off a Tupper ware container and sample our dessert of carrot cake. We managed to get a steak off a snowmoblier who was leading a group into the same pool, so it was no big lose.<br /> The sled ride home was relaxing and we got to take in the grand scenery in reverse. We all had small stories to swap when we returned about our favorite dogs and unforgetable views. By 4:00 pm we were back in Jackson Hole proper, then Pam and I jumped in the truck and started the drive to West Yellowstone. Both of us couldn't quite believe the opportunity we where lucky enough to experience!<br /> I forgot to mention about Stan, he really fell in love with all the dogs, except when they tried to use his leg like a fire hydrant!<br />***************************<br />WEST YELLOWSTONE MONTANA<br />* Day 6 Feb 4th Today Pam and I were dressed for bear as we waited for our snow coach that would take us into Yellowstone National Park. The temperatures hung around 20 degrees which is short sleeve weather when we think of the north country! The bright yellow snow coach from the Buffalo Bus Co. showed up right on time. Old Tim, as he liked to be called took our park passes and driver's licenses, with the idea of getting us all through the West Yellowstone park gates faster. By 9:00 am our group of ten were staring out the window of our mobile transport, with a sharp eye for any type of walking and crawling critter. Our van was decked out with tractor cleats where the tires should be,perfect for the roads covered with four feet of snow. Our pathway would be shared with snowmobiles and buffaloes, not necessarily in that order. The river ways would host most of the animals that we would see, since the water is warmed by thermal activity and keeps the grass visible for the critters to eat. The Madison River held groups of Trumpeter Swans and their youngsters(signets).The snowy white adults with the darker adolescents made for a wonderful way to start our tour.The group spotted a bald eagle on a dead tree and further down the road a hugh nest.There were elk walking along the rivers edge eating the visible grasses. We found out that the elk's hide is waterproof and the cold river water protects them from wolves jumping across to attack. Within the hour a huge bull bison wandered out onto the snowy roadway, right in front of our snow coach. The animal must have weighed a ton and walked very slowly like he didn't have to worry about anybody messing with him, which he didn't. Our first stop was at the Madison Junction which offered a place to use the bathroom and buy some warm drinks. Groups of snowmobilers mingled with snow coaches. The snowmobile groups all have to be accompanied by a guide. In the past years snowmobilers could drive their machines where ever they wished with no restrictions.<br /> Next we drove to the upper and lower falls of the Yellowstone River, well not exactly to the falls, more like the overlooks that held the grand views of the falls. Each stop was better than the last,due of the angle of view and the amount of ice that had formed on each.<br /> We drove to Canyon Village and used the visitor center as a place to eat our picnic lunches. Then we headed over to Norris Geyser Basin which is known for its' numerous geothermal activities. Hot water pools with green and blue thermophils were very interesting. The layers of frost that had formed on the tree branches from steam vents made for a Christmas type scene.<br /> By three o'clock it was time to ride our vehicle back to the town of West Yellowstone. It was a treat and a different experience to visit Yellowstone in the winter.<br /> Stan was jumping up and down in his seat when he saw our motel. When I asked him why, he told me that the buffalo were so big he thought he might get stepped on and get even flatter! The most exciting part of the day for Stanley was watching the bubbling hot water come out of the ground, but knowing he wouldn't have to take a bath in it.<br /> * Day 7 Feb 5th Let it snow, let it snow, everybody sing! Pam, Stan and I awoke to heavy falling snow. Stan said it was like someone had put him between two pieces of white paper! We had reserved a snowmobile tour for today, with the Yellowstone Park as a destination. A guide would be with our group of eight riders, since that is park policy. We walked through calf deep snow on the way down to the rental agency, and that snow fall was just from breakfast. The friendly weather man told us on the telie that the snow would stop by mid morning, so we had our fingers crossed. Stan said he didn't like to cross anything, it leaves creases.<br /> Pam and I were the lone renters at 7:45 am and I wondered if anybody else was going to be brave like us or be smart and not show up this morning. A girl helped us with all the gear, heavy snow suits,helmets, boots, and gloves. The girl behind the counter had to go in the back room and get a helmet that would fit my fat head of size 8,I think they took it off a Halloween pumpkin decoration. By the time Pam and I were ready to take on all of what Yellowstone had to throw at us, a mob of guests showed up. Helmets, jackets and mittens were being thrown around in a blinding fury. Pam and I walked outside to meet our guide Troy and also to introduce him to Stan. Troy couldn't have been more helpful with snowmobile instructions and concern for our safety.<br /> Within minutes after the last questions were answered, we were following Troy through downtown West Yellowstone in our screaming snowmobiles. We had to obey all the traffic laws the same as if we were driving cars.We then made a turn towards the east and entered Yellowstone National Park. Snow was still falling but we were prepared with clothes on that Admiral Perry wishes he had when he conquered the North Pole. What a rush it was having the strong machine under us, as it ate up the snowy pathways. Around every corner Troy had something interesting to tell us or some animal to point out. We saw a Bald Eagle in the first fifteen minutes of travel. The bison we drove by yesterday in the snow coach were 75 feet away, but today due to such heavy snow these buggers were right on the roadway, it being easier for them to use to get from one place to the other. They were within petting distance,if you had a death wish! Bison kill more people in Yellowstone than bears do.We were warned not to be deceived by their slow pace, since they are capable of moving very fast if provoked.<br /> The snow machines made seeing the different sights a lot more fun, as we zoomed along the snowy highway at 35 to 45 mph. By mid morning the sun broke through the snowy clouds and blue skies greeted us. Gibbons Waterfall was a sight to behold with a frozen side and the other side with the river pouring over it. Before lunch we stopped at an area of geysers, fumerals and mud pots or paint pots as they are called.The paint pots looked like a supernatural being was cooking a heavy dinner of dry wall mud. The hot water deep beneath the earth is working it's way up to the surface through the grey mud. Every now and then we could hear a popping and then a gurgle as steam came rushing through this mass of mud.<br /> For a lunch spot Troy picked Old Faithful, the geyser that sends hot water hundreds of feet into the air every couple of hours. After parking our machines we made a mad dash for the viewing spot and we were not disappointed. After the water show we all walked over to the grill and ate our lunch. After lunch we visited the brand spanking new visitor center and book store with displays explaining the scientific theories of this geologic park.<br /> We got back on the snowy trails with our trusty machines and with a sharp eye out for critters of the forest. Bison were everywhere to be seen and admired. It is difficult at this time of year to get enough nutrition. Along the Madison River a Bobcat came down to the rivers edge, hoping for a lunch of wild duck. A pair of Bald Eagles sat on the top of a dead tree and seemed to wave goodbye to us as we zoomed back to West Yellowstone.<br /> Stan really liked Old Faithful with its' towering surge of hot water. I had to hide his swim suit because he had plans on sitting over the geyser hole and waiting for the surge of hot water to send him skyward. Kids today! I don't know where they get these ideas! But then Stanley told me he saw a kid shoot a spit wad out of a straw and thought he could use the geyser to do the same thing.<br />*****************<br />BOZEMAN MONTANA<br />*Day 8 Feb 6th Pam flew home today from Bozeman Mt.in a snow storm. Stan and I drove to Big Sky ski area during the same snow storm. The area is large, huge with many ski runs. The ticket at this resort cost $81.00 but with my plastic, flicky door opener thingy from my motel room I was told by the motel manager I would get a discount of 10%. The clerk at the ticket window said no, I can only take off $10.00. Stan said this must be some sort of cowboy math equation, that we liked!The traffic was lite on our drive to the ski site especially when you compare it to the drive up I-70 to a Colorado ski area on a Sunday! When I got to the slopes I noticed there were no waiting lines to get on the lifts. Bozeman and the surrounding area doesn't have the population that Denver supports. <br /> The weather was snowy when I started skiing but then the snow stopped and the temperatures dropped to 5 below zero, not short sleeve temps! There was a warming hut on top of the main mountain which made a nice stop to hang out for a few minutes of warmth. On the chair lifts I met skiers from all over the United States. The main mountain had a tram leading to the top, which I would have taken had I been able to see better. With snow falling and a low cloud cover the ski trip down was a tad bit difficult on the 50 degree slopes. The mountain looked very high to Stan and he was already starting to get a nose bleed! I wanted to use a Kleenex but Stan said he didn't want to stick his cousin up his nose, which I can identify with!<br /> On the drive back to Bozeman the roadway had a warning sign about animals on the highway. With waist deep snow along the sides of the highway I wondered what type of animals would be waundering around looking for food. As I drove around a corner I noticed a group of people trying to free a huge Big Horn sheep stuck in the deep snow bank. I think someone sent for a crane to lift this fella out, his horn's were massive.<br />****************************************<br />GARDNER MONTANA <br />* Day 9 Feb 7th Ok this is starting to sound like a broken record but Stan and I woke to snow falling again. This is going to be an easy day anyway with us just driving over to Gardiner, MT. This is the gateway to the northern top part of Yellowstone National Park. After packing the truck for our move, we drove to the Musuem of the Rockies. The musuem is chuck full of dinosaurs, or what is left of them in the form of fossils. The state of Montana is known for many dinosaur fossil discovery sites. The building looked brand new and the exhibits were outstanding! The scenes showed dinosaurs from egg stage to maturity. The display cases illustrated very well how the reptiles evolved into birds. <br /> Since Native American's lived in the area for thousands of years, the musuem had a great section dedicated to them. Then I walked into the section of early Montana pioneers showing their weapons, farming equipment, you name it,it was there. Since I was from Denver, the old 1930 Buick touring car caught my eye. A company had used it to transport guests to the top of Pikes Peak, Co.<br /> I sat in my truck to have lunch and noticed that the snow was getting heavier. I walked back into the museum because the Taylor Planetarium was putting on a show about the sun. Scientist that study the sun from Montana State University did all the ground work for this light show. Stan wanted to know how a person could study something you can't look at directly with out burning your eyes out. Luckily he didn't ask that question. When the lights went out as we sat in those comfortable seats,that was all she wrote for Stan and me. The only thing we remembered was the lights going back on! I am glad the scientists didn't ask any questions about what we had seen, because I would have to explain what the inside of my eye lids looked like during that time period.<br /> It's only 75 miles from Bozeman to Gardiner- piece of cake right! A major storm blew in while Stan and I were catching up on our beauty sleep. Bozeman had just heavy wet snow but when we drove up onto I-90 the wind was howling with heavy snow coming down. We could see maybe 50 feet with the worst conditions being on Bozeman Pass. The visibility was so bad that I could barely see the hood of the truck. An occassional fool with a death wish would pass the long line of slow moving vehicles. We were glad to get off the interstate and take a secondary road for the last 50 miles to Gardiner. <br /> After topping off the gas tank for extra weight and in case we were going to be stranded in the truck, we slide back onto the road. The road way was just covered with inches of snow but tons of the white fluffy stuff were creating a blizzard conditions. I put on my four way flashers and crept along averaging 35 mph, when we were lucky. Occassionaly the road way disappeared completely and then the truck slowed to 5 mph. After 2 hours of working our way along the frozen waste land, the sign for Gardiner appeared out of the swirling snow.<br /> We checked into our motel after swapping traveling stories with the clerk. Another fella was sitting in the lobby for awhile. I noticed he had a camera with a lens as long as your arm. Yesterday, as he was leaving the park a pack of coyotes were all hanging around the big stone gate at the entrance. He took a series of pictures of the pack all howling with their mouths in the air, then more with them rubbing against each other. The pictures were unbelievable to say the least. We have two days here, just exploring Yellowstone Park,and the great pictures got me really excited.<br /> After getting settled in, Stan told me he had never seen weather like we had driven through, but he wasn't scared, even though he was thinking about his future a lot! I told him the story of Pam's uncle who was a doctor during WWII. Uncle Bill was stationed in Darwin, Australia as the the doc. for the air corp. These flyers would have to fly long distances and when they got back to base their nerves could be a little frayed. Uncle Bill would have shots of pure grain alcohol lined up along the bench where the fly boys would change. The strong spirits did the trick for moral adjustment! After the story Stan said he couldn't wait to be 21 years old, especially if it's during the winter in Montana!<br />*Day 10 Feb 8th Well another day in paradise boys and girls, that's what Stanley is telling me after a good night's sleep. We drove into the north entrance of Yellowstone National Park. Stan loved the huge stone archway that welcomes everyone into one of the greatest geological parks on earth. Within minutes we saw our first elk. We drove into the parking area that leads us to a natural hot springs. All of the hot water that over flows at the Mammoth Hot Springs travels underground for about 5 miles until it merges with the Gardiner River. When the underground stream reaches day light it becomes the Boiling River, which will scald any fool that touches it. The boiling hot water combines with the near freezing water of the Gardiner and this is where the rangers have made pools out of river rocks and it's safe to soothe your sore body. One problem is that the Gardiner River isn't flowing high enough to cover one of Stanley's toenails and also the temperature was 5 degrees.It made me think I couldn't get out of my clothes fast enough or back into them before body parts snapped off! The Boiling River has created a unique eco system for the whole valley. Green plants were still growing in the river. A small herd of elk seemed to enjoy this little piece of paradise also.<br /> I drove to the Mammoth Hot Springs and was able to talk to a ranger who knew everything there is to know about cross country ski trails in YNP. He told me about a trail that would lead me up to Snow Pass and then onto Bunsen Peak Trail for a distance of 16 miles. My new friend mentioned that a group of 9 cross country skiers had a 45 minute head start. Due to all of the snow yesterday, these poor buggers would have to break trail. <br /> After spending a few minutes making sure that I was truly was on the right trail, I started up the snowy path. I had climbing skins on the bottoms of my skis, which help grip the snow on the steep parts. As the trail worked its' way up to the pass I observed a few hot springs and great views of the valley below. The strong smell of sulfur and bellowing steam made Stan tell me that I may end up in a place like this if I don't behave. At the pass I entered the Swan Valley, which was five miles long. I noticed tracks in the snow coming off a mountain side and then I noticed large black rocks setting out in the valley floor. These rocks were moving and had large horns. A small group of bull buffalo were using their large heads to move the waist deep snow to get to the grass below. The critters would sweep their heads back and forth like a snow plow. In a grove of pine trees was another set of buffalos and these two were butting heads, Stan said it looked like the Super Bowl all over again! I thought while they were busy I would ski a little closer and get a better picture. These two monster stopped immediately and looked like they wanted to try my hard head as a battering ram. I skied on just as fast with an occasional look in my rear view mirror. At this point I heard what sounded like a howl of a wolf and saw a dark figure run over the next hill. Stan thought I had watched Dances with Wolves one to many times, but a ranger told me the wolves had killed an elk in the area.<br /> I crossed the road that leads to Norris and followed an old road bed. I could see my trail breakers ahead of me. Next a couple from Idaho skied out of the trees and we stopped to talk. I was ready for lunch and the couple didn't want to stop and freeze to death so they carried on. After lunch I caught up with them and we skied down hill for maybe two miles along the old road way. There was actually an old road sign mentioning a steep and twisting road ahead. We all had a good time trying to keep on the track and not ski off into the bottomless canyon.<br /> At trails end I caught up with the 9 skiers and hitched a ride back to my truck. The rest of the afternoon I spent looking for critters and a new ski trail.<br />**Day 11 Feb 9th This morning the skies were clear but the temperature was 20 below zero. Down the road the temps hit 45 below zero! My poor truck started very slowly, but it did start. I drove to Black Tail Deer road with the idea of cross country skiing the closed road. The plateau above the road looked like a better place to have a view of the country side. I followed the ridges and didn't find much snow, which made it easier to ski. With all the fresh snow, animal tracks were all around the mountains. I noticed a coyote running along a distant ridge and then he jumped on top of a rock. I skied up to the rock and noticed a set of antlers from a elk, where he had shed them. I found so many shed antlers on that hill I lost count. I found a matched set with 6 points on each side!<br /> I thought I could hear a wolf howling in the distance, but I couldn't locate it. I skied over the next ridge and noticed a herd of 8 bull elk and the same amount of bull buffalo. Then I heard the howl again in the distance and noticed a lone wolf running along a distant ridge. Within minutes a pack of 10 wolves came running up the same ridge, like they were on a race. I heard another pack howl, in answer to my pack. The whole thing happened in just a few minutes, but luckily I was in the right place at the right time. Standing on top of that small hill taking in all the scenery, it was easy to imagine being an explorer here. There wasn't a man made object for miles and not a sound except for the wind. The Robin's egg blue sky and the fresh snow litered with animal tracks made it a very special time. I skied down to the next valley and I planned to follow this to the Black Tail Road.<br /> The snow was lite, having been blown down into this valley and it was difficult to break trail with snow up to my waist. I could see a trail in the distance. At first I thought a bull buffalo had made a trail, but it was somebody snowshoeing. The trail went up through the trees and along a creek and it was alot easier to take it than to break a new trail. By lunch time I found the road and a herd of buffalo lying on the roadway. I gave wide berth to these shaggy devils. I followed the road and noticed all kinds of wolf tracks. I realized that the pack was down on the road and a group of skiers had scared them in my direction.<br /> I met a few people skiing and by 2:00 pm I had skied to the end of the road and then climbed another small hill to look for more wolves without any luck so I started to head home. By 4:00pm the wind picked up and the temps dropped real fast. I made a wrong turn and ended up on the main road and had to ski along with an occassional car whizzing by. When I got back to my truck my binding on my skies was frozen and wouldn't release. Luckily for me, I had another pair of shoes in my truck. The parking lot was icy and it was a little tricky getting out of my boots while they were still attached to my skies.<br /> Just before leaving the park I noticed a group of big time photographers all lined up along the road. The object of their desire was Big Horn Sheep crossing the road.<br /> When Stan and I got back in the room, Stan reminded me of the story about the Ginger Bread Man. Stanley had heard the story being read in his class room. Stan related about the part of the story where the Ginger Bread Man runs as fast as he can and gets away from everyone chasing him. Stan said if Mr. Ginger was being chased by the fast running wolves we had seen today, he would need a motorcycle.<br />++++++++++++++<br />KALISPELL MT <br />** DAY 12 Feb 10th Stan and I covered the windshield last night because the morning before when it was 20 below zero, I almost needed a flame thrower to clean off the frost. This morning no frost and nice temps greeted us as we got started on our drive to Kalispell Mt. First stop would be at Bozeman to have breakfast with Fred King and his lovely wife. <br /> After breakfast Stan and I couldn't believe the roads, not a bit of snow, slush, or ice. The speed limit was mostly 75 mph and we took full advantage of it. Within 8 hours we had driven 400 miles. Our motel for three nights is the Travel Lodge and the room is perfect and is next to the hot tub!<br />**DAY 13 Feb 11th Glacier National Park. This morning it's not below zero and it's not snowing!! Stan and I drove into Glacier NP with the idea of cross country skiing- Going to the Sun Road. The road is closed in the winter and with the winter snows covering the sourrounding mountains it made quite the scene. The road followed the McDonald Creek with numerous frozen waterfalls and rapids. The open water was so clear, it just took my breath away. The road is lines with cedar and white birch trees. The aroma coming off the cedars was very relaxing. The McDonald Lake was just partially frozen and there was just a few floating icebergs. A few skiers had broken a trail so it made it a lot easier to glide along the snow. By lunch time I had put 6 miles behind me when I arrived at Avalanche Creek. By this time the temps had risen just a few degrees above freezing. With higher temps the snow has a tendency to stick to the bottom of the skies. It's a big problemo because your ski will not slide so you are almost walking with skies on. I must have stopped a dozen times and scrapped the snow off with a credit card. Everybody else I met was having the same problem.<br /> I finally make it back to my car just as the sun came out and it made McDonald Lake come alive with reflections. Stan said Yellowstone NP has more animals but Glacier has a unique beauty but softer lines.<br />###DAY 14 Feb 12th It's actually warm here- 51 degrees and that's not below zero boys and girls. Stan and I were going to down hill ski Big Mountain after driving north out of Kalispell for 30 miles. We could see the ski slopes from our motel window, and the mountain was big! We parked within a ten minute walk to the ticket window. The ticket price was only $64.00 which is a good deal. I rode on the lift with two Canadians, who wanted to hear all about my skiing adventures. On top of the mountain the trees were all covered with snow and ice. The monoliths of white made it look like I was skiing amoung giants. These trees are called Snow Goats, but Stan said he has never seen a goat this big. Saturday is a free ski day for all ,so it seemed like every kid in the United States was out taking lessons. I was one of the first to ski the powder after skiing past the Snow Goats. Then after a few runs all the kids invaded my space. It was a little windy on top anyway, so I skied down around the mountain and came to a poma lift, a lift where you put a pole, attached to a running cable, between your legs, and it pulls you up the mountain. Two snow boarders ahead of me had their pole come off the cable and down they went. After that I decided to ski the front part of the mountain. Ski lift #4 serviced five mountain slopes. All were steep but all had different types of terrain. I skied there until I thought Stanley was going to have to carry me to the truck.<br />@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@<br />**DAY 15 -FEB 13TH Stan and I started out driving to Canada early, in order to get some miles behind us. The idea died when I made a wrong turn in White Fish. The road got more rocky and covered with ice, then the road ended in a snow bank! We found the right route and by 10:00 am we were crossing the Canadian border. The border patrol asked a boat load of questions, like have you or Stanley been before a judge since the age of 18 years? Luckily for Stan, I had his passport. The road and country side were free of snow. When we approached the town of Radium I noticed a blinking sign, signaling a closed road to Lake Louise. The ranger at the park entrance said the road would be closed until 5:00 pm due to an avalanche. But the road continued to Radium Hot Springs. A worker was manning a gate across the road at this point. The boss said he was picked because he was the ugliest and meanest looking,and he had successful in turning away hundreds of drivers. The only other way to go was a 550 km drive around. Stan and I decided we would soak in the 110 degree water for 2.5 hours and swim for 30 minutes in the lap pool. Within another 45 minutes the pass was opened and we drove to Lake Louise. The hostel we are staying in is a beautiful thing. Like something from Switzerland, with large beams and wooden floors. They have a full restaurant, and all for $14.00 per night. Tomorrow I cross country ski into a back country hut for 2 days so the blog will be silent.<br />**DAY 16-17th Feb 14th-15-16th Stan and I cross country skied into Elizabeth Parker Hut. The 12 k road was a steady climb up and then up some more! The snow was falling ever so gently but with the climb I was down to just a lite jacket. I met one couple from Wisconsin who were just skiing for the day. After three hours I found the trail to the hut. A group of 6 people were coming out so I knew the hut would be nice and warm. I unlocked the door and ventured into my home for 2 nights. There were two rooms,one the sleeping and eating quarters and the other being the cook room. 16 people can sleep here very nicely. The whole structure was built in the 1930's out of logs. The valley the hut sits in is completely surrounded by very high mountains that are covered with snow. The place is magical with many spectacular views. I just stood there in wonderment. By dinner time six doctors and one back country guide showed up. Four of the doctors were from Holland. The group was there to learn about avalanches. I skied out after dinner just to watch the sun set on the different snowy peaks.<br /> The next day the docs had more to learn about back country travel. The guide made it sound like it was unsafe to look out the cabin windows! I skied over to the the resort hotel that is located on Ohara Lake. I skied around the lake and again I thought my neck was going to snap off with a great view at every angle. At dinner time a group of six descended into the hut. Three guys from just up the road made their appearance first. Then three younger people arrived and had had a tough time on the 12 k trail. I was out exploring when a avalanche broke loose on the mountain, it sounded like a rifle shot and then there was an echo. There was another shor and echo repeating. I was in the next mountain and could only witness the sounds.<br /> This morning I skied back down to my truck and the shower at the hostel was a welcome sight. Stan told me that he had never seen mountains that seemed to scrape the sky. Stan really liked the cabin, especially when we all sat around the fire place and told stories. We forgot the marsh mellows but Stan had left his tooth brush in his other back pack, so it was just as well.<br />**DAY 18 Feb 17th Stan and I skied Lake Louise and what a great mountian that was. There is one run that is 5 miles long and it's right after you depart a nice gondola ride. The mountain has everything to offer. We got here at 9:00am and rode the gondola 3 times and did the 5 miler each time. Then the lines started to get long around the gondola so we headed over the back side of the mountain. Lots of really nice green and blue slopes. There is a share of black diamonds too, but we just hit them a few times. I met a lot of people on the chair lift and in the restaurant. They were mostly Canadians with a few Brits thrown in. <br /> We stopped skiing at 2:00 pm to give us enough time to drive to Jasper. I met a fella at the hostel that needed a ride so I had someone to talk to for the 3 hour drive. Nick owns a kayak company on Vancover Island and since his work is mostly in the summer he was out seeing the sights. We both were going to stay at the same hostel in Jasper so it would really work out for all concerned.<br /> The hostel is a back woods type of affair, with cold pit toilets but warm managers. Michael,wife and son. I actually was scheduled to stay at the hostel in town but this place was right on a major cross country ski trail, so I switched spots. There are a few cabins for sleeping and a main lodge for cooking, eating and gathering.<br />**Day 19 JASPER-Feb 18th Stan and I woke to 25 below zero, so we had to put on a few extra layers for cross country skiing. A secondary road that is closed in the winter was a good starting point. High, and I mean high pointed mountains were our companions along the path. After following the snow covered road for a mile, we turned up into the mountains towards Gerthoud Lake. The road was 6 k long with a steady rise. I actually had to shed some layers after the hills got a little steeper even with it being so cold. I came to the end of the road and a trail went off for 2 k to the lake. I tried to get out of my skis so I could put on my climbing skins, but the bindings were frozen, plus I didn't want to risk not being able to get back in them. <br /> Tonight the hostel is full and I'll be sleeping in the reserve manager's room. Stanley says he doesn't mind that we can't take a shower or wash behind our ears. The keeping clean thing is highly over rated!<br /><br />]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]<br />DAY 20 Feb 19th Kamloops BC: Stan and I had a room to ourselves because the hostel was over booked and we got the manager's room. When you open the door to the outside and your hand sticks to the cold door knob, you know it's cold! If you have opened a freezer door at a super market and a cloud of frosty air blasts you in the face, that's what it was like this morning- 30 below zero again! Have you ever sat on a cold toilet seat, in a pit toilet, or have you ever wanted to, at 30 below? Stan got stuck this morning and I had to get a spatula from the kitchen, to pry the little bugger off. I learned to put everything from the truck, that doesn't do well in the subzero in the hostel. It so cold though so that when carrots freeze it's like a flash freeze, they are ok when they defrost, but I imagine they are happy to be warm again. My poor truck has been the champ through all of this, I can barely turn the ignition key, because the mechanism is frozen stiff. The truck slowly starts and then it's off to the races.<br /> A large group like I said came to the hostel last night. One group was older and were going to do a 24 k cross country ski trip over the mountains to a maintained hut. I hope they had warm clothes. The look on their faces when they saw the hostel meeting room was priceless. The stovie and a few other things could use replacing due to many years of wear. This group was also used to the finer things in life, you could tell. The hut they were skiing to costs $200.00 per night per person-this hostel is $28.00. One woman was in charge of every aspect of the trip, I almost expected people to ask her permission to use the bathroom. She went into a ten minute lesson for my benefit about how bad fish scale skis were, which I own.<br /> The next group was the teeny boppers and there was going to be 20 of these snow rats. Stan and I went to bed before this sweaty group took over the hostel. <br /> We drove south to Kamloops and a little bit of warmth and a 1 hour time change. <br /> Stan says we were so far north he thinks he heard little elves working on toys!<br />While we were at the grocery store Stan noticed a poster for an Old Time Fiddle dance. Then when we got back to the room Stan put on his leather bottoms dancing shoes. We showed up at the affair and there must have been thirty couples all in their 70's and 80's. This fiddle dancing group meet twice a month for fiddle playing and dancing. Members of the group take turns playing fiddle, guiter and piano, while the the other half dances. I don't mean a slow waltz either, these people moved like they were on ice skates. As soon as one note was plucked the group moved like a herd of deer onto the dance floor. They all wore red vests with there club logo. Besides the vests all the members were dressed to the nines. The women wore colorful flowing dresses and the men white shirts. A lot of the men had pointed cowboy boots embellished with silver metal toes and then their shirts had silver tipped collars.<br /> Between dances they would come over to chat, since I didn't want to get up and dance with my two left feet. Most of the group were raised on farms in Saskatchewan during the 1920's. Most of the groups parents had come from England, Norway and Germany in the 1900's. Beth's father first arrived in Canada in 1900, and by horse and wagon went from Ontario to Saskatchen. The province was open to homesteaders for little money but hard work. 250 acres for $1.00 if you worked the land and raised a crop. Beth had 13 brothers and sisters but 3 died with in days of each other from diptheria. They didn't go to school or church except during the winter. Stan liked that part! Beth's father saved enough money to bring in a preacher-teacher combination for the winter. <br /> Beth's father played the fiddle and her mother played the guiter. Every Saturday nite people would come to their house by horse and buggy and play music and dance. They would all sleep over and in the winter they stayed for church services. The land didn't have any streams so all the water had to be drawn from a well dug by Beth's father. Her father didn't want to go back to England even to visit but he saved enough money to bring all of his brothers and sisters to Canada. All of the farms raised wheat and cattle and planted gardens. Beth's mother would can all the extra food and have it stored in the cellar. When Beth got married in the 1940's the farm still didn't have electricity or running water. Her father lived to be 95 years old.<br />))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))<br />**DAY 21 Feb 2oth Whistler BC// Stan and I woke to clear skies, not as cold but still below zero! We would be driving 7 hours over to Whistler from Kamloops. I am glad we were able to see Kamloops, I have often wondered what the place looked like. It's right on the Thompson River bank and has a nice presence.<br /> On the road to Whistler the roads were dry for a change and the surrounding countryside looked a lot like Gunnison Colo., with sage brush on the hill sides. My map showed the road weaving its' way through the mountains like a serpent with the bends! My map also stated that the road to Whistler from our angle was closed in the winter. I stopped at an Indian reservation town of Lillooet and asked the grocery clerk about the road. She said it would be open unless there was an avalanche or one snow flake since it's a 16 % grade. I found Stan out by an old Indian truck trying to hot wire it, so he wouldn't have to go over the pass with me! The Seton River followed the road for many miles, with a lake at the beginning. The road was very steep and then it would descend at a 16% grade, then go up at a 13 % grade. I am glad my brakes held out! The higher we got the more snow appeared. At the highest point the road was cut through a channel of snow that was 10 feet tall. Then we started down and more down until we hit the valley below which had another Indian settlement. Then we started to see signs for the Whistler ski area. I have heard the place is massive and all the stories seem to be correct. I drove for 45 minutes and the ski area was still along the roadway. I got directions from a bus driver and he told me to drive for 8 miles down the road until we saw the sign for our hostel. I thought we are far out from the resort, no the resort is still further down. <br /> The hostel is brand new with stainless steel everything in the kitchen. All the trim work is hardwood and the staff is very helpful and full of cheer. A bus will pick me up in front of the hostel and take me right to the mountain! Besides the fact that my room here for three nights costs what it did for one night at Kamloops! <br /> I got to thinking about all the people that I have met so far and maybe haven't mentioned in the blog. One was the back country skier at Berthoud Pass Co. who wanted to do what I was doing but couldn't get any of his friends to leave home. The group of seventy year olds who were taking up skiing at Steamboat, and all had to show their drivers licenses at the ticket window, to prove that they were the over the hill set. The look on people's faces when we got off the gondola at Jackson Hole Wy. where there was a 360 degree view of pure beauty, plus the intimidating slope you were forced to ski to get back down! The guide at West Yellowstone who was so proud that he had lived there for 60 years and his dad help build a lot of the park buildings in the 1940's. The competetion between professional photographers at North Yellowstone, for the best animal pictures and bragging about their next assignment. Seeing the puzzlement in the people's faces when they were trying to figure a way to get a huge Big Horn Sheep out of the snow drift along the road at Big Sky. That's enough for now!<br />DAY 22 Feb 21st Today Stan and I awoke with the thought of skiing Whistler today, the biggest ski area in North America! We got up early in the hostel before anybody else could hog the shower. Then we fixed breakfast and lunch for the slopes,trying to bypass the expense of resort food. The bus picked us up in front of the hostel and then within 30 minutes I was plunking down some dinero for a ski ticket. A gondola wisked us up the mountain. The views would problably be fab except, yes boys and girls it was snowing, which is good for skiing but bad for sightseeing. Stan didn't think it was to funny not being able to see the surrounding mountains. I told him at least it's not 30 below zero,just 10 below. We hopped on another gondola that took us all the way across a river drainage system to the next mountain. It's supposed to be the biggest in the world! We skied until 3:00 pm but like a family said, that I met from England, it was a challenge,with flat light and fog. Stan told them if it was easy everybody would be doing it!<br />DAY 22 Feb 21st Stan and I had plans for some cross country skiing. The managers at the hostel told me about Callaghan, wherethe Olympics had been held. The cross country skiing, biathalon, with rifle shooting and the ski jumps were all held here. I thought it was going to be in a farmer's field but the Olympic committee put it up in Callaghan Valley. It costs $16.00 to enter the area but it was well worth the cost. There is 90 miles of cross counrty skiing trails. The jumps are still there but Stan hadn't packed his long skis so that was out. Then there was a building to eat or buy your lunch. The place had a view to die for. There were 2 fireplaces with chairs around it to kick back and relax if you wanted to. I followed the Black Diamond cross country course first and it led me high up into the mountains with a view all around. The groomed trails snake all around the forested area and you don't know where you're going to come out! I ate my lunch in the day building with a fire going in the fireplace. <br /> After lunch I did the biathlon course,where a cross country skier not only skies 20 K but he has to shoot at five targets. The course worked its' way around the cedar forest and I ended up back at the shooting range. There was a group of American's trying their luck at shooting. These are the first Americans that I meet on this trip.<br /> Stan was sad he had missed the Olympics by one year, but he said he was going to get in shape for the next one!<br />=====================================================================================<br />DAY 22 BELLINGHAM WA. Feb 23rd Stan and I have sneaked back across the Canadian border! We drove around the city and looked at the hot spots, since it's a tad on the nippy side-but not below freezing. We are supposed to get some snow here tonight which is good since Mt. Baker ski area is just up the road. Today we will take in a museum and a little R&R. Tomorrow down hill skiing! Funny thing happened at the last hostel, funny unless it happens to one of us! I was laying in my bunk bed when the chap on the upper bunk bed gets a phone call from the Royal Mounted Police. He is wanted for questioning about property destruction. His girlfriend was jealous of his vacation, so she called the Mounties. The last I saw of him he was crawling out of the upper bunk and heading to the lobby of the hostel. Stan said hostel staying is cheap and interesting, you don't get that kind of entertainment at a Holiday Inn!<br /> Stan and I have driven 3000 miles as of today.<br />**DAY 23 Feb 24th Stan and I drove into the Baker Mountains, home to the Mt Baker ski area. It snowed last night which isn't unusual except that a cold front made the snow very dry. The snow on Baker is usually wet and heavy, except today it was heaven sent. The skies were also clear and we could see all the mountains that skirted the area. Since I am 60 years old, my ski ticket was just $40.00. Because of the new snow all the ski runs had 8 inches of new snow on the slopes. Each run was like a gift from the ski gods. Tomorrow we head back to Denver after skiing 8 different ski areas and cross country skiing 6. What a great, perfect, wonderful trip this has been! Stan and I have seen so many sights and met so many interesting people! <br />^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^<br /><br /> Drive back to Denver / If I am still alive!<br />Feb 28th-<em></em><blockquote></blockquote><blockquote></blockquote><blockquote></blockquote><blockquote></blockquote>vince vogelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09409914685847755131noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-113513403868397494.post-29014224784869587752011-01-17T08:53:00.000-08:002014-02-07T14:00:02.794-08:00Nelson Lakes NP New Zealand #1After surviving my sea kayak trip I was ready to spend some quality time on solid ground. I had stopped at the Able Tasman ranger station and was able to gather valuable information on the Nelson Lakes National Park located south of my location. There was plenty of places to explore with many miles of rivers, high snow topped mountains and beautiful lakes. If the park could cook I would marry it! The ranger informed me that the town of St Arnaud the gateway to the park had a grocery store to buy supplies. Even thought I was next to big grocery store, I would wait and buy my supplies next to the park.<br /><br /> After several hours of driving I arrived at the ranger headquarters for the park system. The building sat right next to Lake Rotoiti and had plenty of information about the park. I waited in line to get my permits for reserving a place to lay my sleeping bag in the huts. The rangers had made a 3-D map that really showed the height of the mountains and the depths of the valleys. With a red marker the artist of the map had laid out the trails that meandered through the park. I made out a registration form with one eye on the map. I wanted to see most of the park if not all the park. In order to accomplish that it would take me over ten days of hiking. As I bellied up to the counter with a friendly ranger on the other side I handed over my schedule, half expecting to have it thrown back in my face. “ Well I see you really want to experience the park and all that it has to offer!” said the female ranger after looking over my permit. “I wouldn’t change a thing!” she said, while handing back my permit. After securing my permit I noticed a group of older hikers, milling around the displays cases. I found out from them we would be seeing each other during our hiking trip through the park. I also found out from them I would need a water taxi to zoom me across Lake Rotoiti before I started my hike. They had reserved one for tomorrow morning but their’s was for 10:00 am, a tad late for me. The most interesting and disturbing news was that the grocery store in St Arnaud resembled a gas station, because it was one.<br /><br /> I drove to the make believe grocery store with the thought of what kinds of food would a gas station have in stock. I walked into a store that had maybe four shelves stocked with Roma Noodles and some tuna. A couple of other campers where wondering around trying to figure out what items was going to fill their stomachs. I had to work my way through the small crowd with a grocery cart. When I got to the Roma Noodles I just put my hand behind all the noodles and slide the whole bunch into my cart. I did the same with the tuna and dried vegetables. Everyone in the store must have thought, this is one hungry Yank. Dollar signs appeared in the store owners eyes when I approached the cash register and he must have thought Christmas came twice for him.. I wanted to ask him if his brother was a ranger up north, the one that told me to buy groceries locally. I was just glad to find what I needed and didn’t complain about any of the higher prices.<br /><br /> I found a place to set up my tent in a great camping area not far from the lake. Then I drove over to the lake and made a call to my water taxi gentleman. Mike informed me that I would have to pay for two people traveling unless I could come up with another passenger. This whole trip was going to cost more then I figured! I sat next to the lake on a picnic table and arranged my food for ten day in my pack. The views of the sun setting on the lake was worth the cost of the grub and taxi. I had gotten the station owner to make me a ham sandwich for dinner and I sat for a few hours eating and soaking in the scenery. At the end of this long lake I could see the mountains raising up to form a dramatic back drop and barrier.<br /><br /> The next morning I parked my car by the dock and waited for my water taxi. A French fisherman showed up and asked me about getting a ride to the end of the lake. I had a big smile on my face as Mike and his boat showed up, since my fare was going to be half price now! The Frenchman had arranged with Mike to pick him up tomorrow and I told him in ten days for me. After looking over my large pack with ten worth of food Mike said “I’ll pick up what left of you after lugging that pack for ten days!” <br /><br /> It was relaxing cruising over the lake surface in that early morning fresh air. Within a few minutes Mike pulled up to the dock at Cold Water Hut. The hut and surrounding had the well used look, with hiking boots and towels hanging from a cloths line. This hut is the first and probably last hut for most hikers, so it gets a lot of traffic. I was heading towards John Tait Hut and put all the crowds behind me. The trail followed the Travers River and the sound of the rushing water added to the beauty of the place. The majority of trails in the world follow river ways since it offers the least resistance to hikers and builders of the paths. Most huts in New Zealand are five hours apart and by 1:00 pm I was sitting in my hut. A couple of female rangers checked my permit and then I immediately unloaded my pack and spread my sleeping bag on my bunk. <br /><br /> As I ate my lunch a group of college students from California showed up and almost took over the hut. They where on a eco study program, with a little beer drinking thrown in as a motivator. <br /><br /> I still had plenty of sunshine so I decided to investigate the Cupola hut that sat high in the mountains. I took along just a day pack and with the trail being very steep I am glad I did. It was eight miles of broken rocks and solid roots covering the path. After several sweaty hours of hiking I saw the hut and there was smoke coming out of the chimney, I entered the hut and noticed two older couples laying on bunk beds. Older like the age of dear old mom! “Boy that was a steep trail!” I said. “Oh, we came over the snow covered mountains behind the hut!” said the one man. I thought what in the hell was I complaining about, these rough and tumble senior citizens just came over the Alps!<br /><br /> I left the hut before the granny hikers challenged me to arm wrestling contest and I got my butt kicked royally. I worked my way back to the John Tait hut just in time to eat my dinner which I had carried in on my back. The group of hikers that I had meet in the rangers station had arrived at the hut. After dinner we all sat around and told stories of the trail. Their hiking group had done some of the same trail that I had done in Tasmania, Australia. <br /><br /> The next morning I loaded my day pack and headed to the Hopeless Hut, that was built by Sir Edmund Hillary, the champion of all hikers. As I worked my way up to the hut I noticed the two women rangers where coming up the trail. They wanted to make the Angelus Hut by way of the Sunset Saddle. As all three of us entered a open area we could see the pass, and a small rough trail covered with broken sliding rock called spree. A series of waterfalls came in handy for a bit of a skinny dip shower. By this time it was lunch and I walked down to the Hopeless Hut. As I was eating my lunch I could look out onto a very steep slope that lead down to the hut. A sign had been posted above the wide window stating “it’s wasn’t a good idea to sit at this window during avalanche!” I heard later that Sir Edmund swears on top of a stack of hiking boots that when he built the hut there wasn’t a avalanche corridor. The reason the hut is named Hopeless is because climber, including Eddie himself, found the surrounding mountain hopeless to climb.<br /><br /> After spending the afternoon in the mountains, I was ready to go back to my base camp hut. When I arrived the Frenchman fisherman was there and his smiling face told me of good story to come. He had been fishing in the river and had caught a ten pound brown trout. A picture of the monster on his digital camera proved his fish story, wasn’t a fish story!<br /><br /> The next morning I followed the river trail to Upper Travers Rivers Hut. The mountains all around the hut made for a Switzerland type setting. As I got closer to the hut I noticed a fellow snapping pictures with a lot of enthusiasm. This German hiker had most of his back pack filled with four different types of cameras. One camera he had made and it consisted of a wooded box with a peep hole. Film was loaded inside the camera and when he slid a door away from the peep hole and then the picture was taken. The camera bug was heavy into picture taking but short on taking chances. He had the same idea I had about going over the mountain pass tomorrow but he had major concerns about the weather. The California dreaming college kids, I had meet yesterday, looked like they where dreaming about relaxing on the beach, not hiking rocky trails. The group had lost all their mojo, and couldn’t stand the sight of each other and this was in just one day. As each one entered the hut, they had complaints about another school mate, it was kind of funny unless it’s happening to yourself. Then later about dinner time a group of hikers from Switzerland entered the hut to cook dinner. They had just bought tent camping permits and saved all of five dollars. <br /><br /> The next morning the skies where dark and forbidding. Rumbling along the mountains tops didn’t help with the German photographers courage. He kept asking me if I was really going over the mountains to the Sabine river drainage. “When I told him the only way I wasn’t going, I would have to be dead!” He said you probably will end up being dead if you do go over the pass. <br /><br /> The trails was steep and I was on a race with the rain. I wanted to reach the West Sabine Hut before the lightning or heavy rains washed my butt down the Sabine river system. The Swiss hikers and the German where sitting in the hut as I made my move on the mountain. The higher I got on the mountain the greater my view of where I had been and going. The trail on the other side of the mountain was covered with roots and rocks. A lot of the ground in New Zealand is too hard for the tree roots to penetrate, so they cover the ground like thousands of serpents. These root serpents can almost reach out and grab you as you walk by. I was hiking as fast as my legs would carry me when I started to hear thunder in the distance. When I saw the river I was almost on a dead run. When I hit the hut door, am glad nobody was on the other side, or they would have flown through the air like those monkeys in Wizard of Oz. The race was won by me on this go around with the rain bouncing off the roof of the hut as I entered. I had done the trip in three hours and the ranger said it was a record!<br /><br /> A ranger that looks after the hut had a coal fire going in the pot belly stove. The glow from the fire lite up the faces of a few people laying in their bunks. Two of the tired hikers I recognized from the first hut. The older woman had her ankle all bandaged up and her husband wasn’t better off with a pulled leg muscle. The ranger was talking to the woman, like a priest giving the last rites. The woman had caught her foot on a tree root and then had fallen over while her poor ankle stayed put. Mr. Ranger was trying to talk the women into a helicopter ride back to the ranger station. She wanted to wait until tomorrow morning incase a miracle happened and she could walk out herself. Her husband tried to stand up but he had rubber band legs. The older gentleman said with sigh, “ I guess I shouldn’t have laid down!” I said “I think you shouldn’t have got up!” The rest of the hiking group had done a short hike to Blue Lake but they came back early looking like drowned rats. The Swiss couple from my last hut showed up at the same time and all of them spent a more then a few minutes getting all their equipment hung up to dry. They said the German man had visions of getting fried on top of the mountain, so he stayed behind.<br /><br /> The rest of the afternoon was spent sitting around talking and watching the Swiss couple learn to play a card game.<br /><br /> The next morning the rain gods had left the area for few days, I hoped. I was on my way to Blue lake, which sounded like a enchanted place. Again I just followed the river trail until it lead me to the Blue Lake Hut. The hut sat on the valley floor and high mountain completely surrounded the area. The hut had fantastic views from every window. The hut was large and there was a few packs laying on the tables inside the hut. I dropped my pack and continued my walk to the lake. I meet a two women on the way back to the hut to change into their swim suits for a bit of a swim in the crystal clear lake. Their husband and father just sat along the lake shore and waited for the women to get cooled off. The minute the two women dove into the water they couldn’t get out of the water fast enough. They tried to walk on water because the water was so cold. It looked so inviting with the water being a dark blue and large trees lining the lake shore. I noticed a river feeding the lake and noticed a large water fall above the lake. Walt Disney couldn’t have made a better paradise. After their quick swim, my new companions where on the way down the trail and I had the place to myself. When I threw stones into the water you could watch as they sank to the bottom thirty feet down, it was that clear. I thought of what Teddy Roosevelt said about the Grand Canyon when he first saw it, “Don’t change I thing you can’t improve it!” <br /><br /> I sat along the lake reading when a couple from England came marching up to the lake. “Sorry we are on a tight schedule, have to keep moving!” as they turned and ran back down the trail. When I returned to the hut the sun was setting on the mountains and I just sat at a table and starred out the window at the snow capped mountains.<br /><br /> The next morning I would do a day hike to Constance Lake that feed the Blue lake from above. I followed a narrow path beside the stream that lead into the Blue Lake and noticed it started at the bottom of the large rock pile. The pressure of the lake above forced water under ground and feed my lake. When I was able to hike up to the lake, I saw a most amazing site. A large waterfall was pouring down into Constance lake. The water fall poured off the mountain above the lake and it was fifty feet away from the mountain side before it even hit the lake surface. I continued hiking up to the top of the mountain above the lake. That is until I hit a wall of snow. I had hiked high enough and had a grand view of the lake and water fall.<br /><br /> I walked back down to Blue Lake and jumped into the lake myself and had the same reaction as the frozen mermaids yesterday. During the storm yesterday a large tree had been blown over blocking the trail leading to the lake and I found a axe for the remedy. It was nice change of pace hacking away at that old tree. Luckily the tree gave up before my back did.<br /><br /> The next morning I had to head over another mountain to D’Urville River. The trail again was heading straight up the mountain. I noticed that some smart ranger had driven in long wooden poles to mark the trail. The fog gods made these poles very important, as I couldn’t see my own shoe laces by this time. The steep trail was covered with large round boulder, that acted like bowling balls when they where dislodged. I am glad I was he only hiker on the trail or it would have been dodge rock for anybody following me. The pass was covered with smaller rock and it had a view of the valleys below, I guess on clear days, but now it was like looking into pea soup because of the fog. I started down the other side and the closer I got to the river, the skies cleared. The trail on this side was covered with mossy rocks and more of those tripping roots. By lunch time I came to the Ella Hut, with it’s view of the river. I sat on the front porch as I ate lunch and was the official greeter for any travelers. A fella from Holland showed up in short order, and he had just walked by Blue Lake without even a glance, what a waste I thought. I walked down to the river for a refreshing swim. As I started back towards the hut I noticed smoke pouring from the doorway of the hut. My Dutch hiker had started a fire in the cast iron stove and was laying in his bed, I think, because it was so smoky I had trouble seeing. I ran to the stove and noticed the flume had fallen down and all the smoke was staying in the hut instead of the chimney. “I was just cold and wanted some warmth!” Dutch boy said. “Well you almost turned into a smoked hiker!” I explained.<br /><br /> The next morning I awoke to a dream that I had fallen a sleep on top of a pool table in a smoky old bar. I turned on my flash light and the smoke was thick enough to cut with a knife. I ran to the Dutch Boy side of the hut and there again he was laying, being smoked. He had gotten up again and started a fire, with the same results, because he was cold. I thought I was in a Forest Gump movie, “Are you just stupid?” I opened all the windows and doors and within a few minutes the air cleared and I couldn’t wait until I cleared out. Holland Boy was staying for another day but I was heading down the trail, even though it was raining. I thought it was better to get soaked rather then smoked!<br /><br /> After walking for thirty minutes in a steady down pour you soon understand you can only get so wet. I turned the corner and heard the noise of hammering and sawing. A construction crew was working right through the storm on a new hut. The crew had a cook tent along with sleeping tents. I stepped under the tarp that served as the cooking area and had a cup of warm tea placed in my hand. As the men came off the roof during the downpour, I said just kidding, “Well at least the rain keeps the dust down.” “Oh right, that was a big worry!’ the foreman said. Being in construction myself for many years we had plenty to talk about.<br /><br /> As I walked along the trail the rain just coming down without a break in sight. I notice the D’Urville River getting higher on its banks when I came to the river crossing. The water was waist deep but there wasn’t much need to change my hiking boots. The water logged boots already weighed several pounds more than when I started. They did help me cross over the slippery boulder that lined the river bottom. Within a hour I crossed a small bridge and then came in sight of the newly built Sabine Hut. The hut sat right on the banks of the Lake Rotoroa and after walking for fourteen hours it was a welcoming sight.<br /><br /> The hut had an assortment of different hikers from all over the globe. A warm fire was going and I was able to hang all my dripping cloths. After dinner the weather cleared and I was able to walk along the shore line and enjoy the lake views. <br /><br /> As the sun rose the next morning, the hut seemed to come alive with hikers having different adventures on their minds. My ambitions called for me to climb over Mount Cledric to Angelus Hut and then the next day I would walk to the dock and be picked up by water taxi. As I ate breakfast, my fellow hikers and I got to talking about the weather. One very smart fellow had a weather radio, that announced a major storm coming in this afternoon, with snow on Mount Cedric. Maybe it was time to shift my plans to a more safer, direct route back to my car. What really changed my mind was the warning posted at the trail head, “Don’t attempt the track, if the weather appears to be changing, people have lost their lives!” That put the icing on the cake, I would head to St Arnaud and my car, by way of Spear Grass Hut. A few other people had got an earlier start and where already ahead of me.<br /><br /> Everything was fine with the weather gods until late morning and the wind and rain started bouncing off my face. I passed a couple from the last hut and I just kept right on marching with the Spear Grass Hut as my salvation. I got to the hut and opened the door to a empty hut with a very crude interior. The driving rain and hail was beating against the wooden sides of the shelter and it sounded like World War III. I changed my wet cloths and had them hanging as the couple I passed arrived. We sat down to eat lunch and figure what in the hell we was going to do with the rest of the afternoon. The cold wind blowing though the hut help me decided to keep going towards the car today. <br /><br /> This couple where from Australia and they had the same idea as I did about moving on after lunch. Just then the door opened to two German girls and they looked like they had been filming a commercial for washing machines, by climbing inside of it. Water was flowing off them and forming huge puddles by the front door. My back was to the German girl while I talked to the Aussie couple, when all of a sudden they stopped talking. I turned around and then the saw the objects of their attention. The fully developed girls had taken off all their cloths and where walking around the hut in their birthday suits. If looking at naked women can make you go blind, can I do it until I need glasses? After the floor show it was time to move on, besides the storm seemed to be losing some of it power.<br /><br /> I walked until I came to a maintained road and my map said it would lead me to my car. Since my pack had gained in weight from the rain storm I hid my pack and walked the road, to my car. I jumped in my car and speed back to my hidden back pack and also with the idea of picking up the Aussie couple, not the German girls, I am married!<br /><br /> At St Arnaud I was able to secure a room and find a drying room for all my gear. My hiking boots took three days to dry out. The next morning I had a view of Mount Cedric and it was covered with snow, so thank goodness for a transistor radio.vince vogelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09409914685847755131noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-113513403868397494.post-35288053851941086302011-01-10T08:54:00.000-08:002014-02-07T14:00:02.814-08:00Kayak-Marlborough Sound-New Zealand # 2It’s January 2003 I have now crossed from the North Island of New Zealand to the South Island and looking for adventure. About ten years ago my son and I made this journey and while on the ferry I met a couple that where going to explore the Marlborough Sound. Their talk of the enchantment of the area never left my pea brain. This couple was going to explore the area by foot power and I my choice would be a sea kayak. It would be a tad bit more dangerous but it would easier on my feet and back.<br /><br />I arrived in Havelock and got settled into a hostel that use to be a hospital. The proprietor looked like the fella from Faultly Towers the English comedy show. Tom would run around trying to put out all the fires in the way of plugged toilets, and arguing bunk mates over a towel. Tom had just opened the hostel after many months of cleaning and painting. A dripping roof after a recent rain storm, over the office, almost drove him over the edge. I volunteered to go up on the metal roof and have a look see. I pumped a lot of silicon into what I thought might be a trouble spot, without much success, but I did get a bed for free. The town of Havelock is know as the gateway to the Green Lip mussel farms, and a few restaurants in town have there own special way of preparing the little morsels. After checking out a few of the establishment it was time to find a place to rent a sea kayak for a week.<br /><br />I stopped into my first sporting goods store that advertised sea kayak rentals. As might be expected I had to fill out a few forms and leave a deposit. I had to list the group leader which wouldn’t be to hard, since I was the Lone Ranger. That’s when reality hit me right between the eyes. New Zealand government in all their wisdom doesn’t allow a single person to rent out a kayak. It’s very smart law on the government parts since you have to be out of your cotton picking mind to go out into the ocean by yourself. Except when you can’t find any victims, I mean volunteers to join me. I put a notice up in the hostel bulletin board looking for a hardy soul to challenge the Marlborough Sound. After a few days without any takers, I knew I had to find another way to dare the ocean.<br /><br />One afternoon I was exploring the country side with my car when I stopped by the sea side and was working my way through a picnic. Within a few minutes the sounds of the rhythm of the ocean waves on the beach was broken by the sound of the washing machine sound of a antique truck. A 1936 Chevrolet truck that had been cut down to a windshield and two seats, pulled up in front of my picnic table. An older couple dressed in clothes that they had made from flour sacks, slid off their seats and started to unload this contraption of a truck. Pot and pans that where hanging from hooks banged back and forth as they came to a stop. A coil of copper pipe hooked to the engine radiator and was wrapped around a large pot of steaming soup. I found out that the couple had bought this truck brand new off the show room floor in 1936. Food products was stored in orange crates that sat on top of plywood that slide out to form sleeping platforms and a table. The couple had been traveling around in their Beverly Hillbillies for years and completely loved their life style. As we shared my table they explained that they had a friend that might rent me a kayak. With a phone number, I talked with my savior. He knew right away that I was a lone kayaker, that was the only people that ever called him since he lived hours from town.<br /><br />The next morning with all the food that I might need for a few days on the Sound I drove up to Mark’s kayak rentals at Rebel Bay. Mark and I met in his dining room and I explained if it was against the law to rent, I would buy the kayak and then sell it back to him if I survived. “No that’s all right, I’ll make sure you know what you’re doing before you leave my little bay!” Mark said. We carried my yellow kayak down to the shore line and Mark let me spend a few minutes getting all my camping gear and grub in the kayak.<br /><br />After giving me a map of the area and showing the good spots to camp with fresh water, I got ready to shove off. “Ok now paddle out to the buoy in the bay, if I wave to keep going I know you’re good but if I wave to return, paddle back!” Mark explained. “ By the way I also rent speed boats so don’t try and out run me if I motion to come back to shore.” he said.<br /><br />Along with the advise about the water sources Mark mentioned I might want to stay close to shore, since it would be easier to swim to safety! The bay where Mark’s house sat was as still as a mill pond as I set off on my adventure on the high seas, hopefully not to high! After paddling for a few hours I noticed the wind had started to pick up. I came to my first obstacle if I wanted to make it one. There was a bay to my left that I could paddle a round safely for a few hours, or just go straight across the neck of the bay and be crazy. I could tell that the sea gods wanted me to throw common sense to the wind, so I decided on the short cut. Speaking of wind it seemed to be picking up with every paddle stroke. The ocean waves where right behind the force of the air current. Half way across the bay my hat blew off. I should have left it to the ocean, hell I should be on a cruise ship with a drink in my hand. After a wave came over the front end of my kayak, I quickly turned the kayak around and within a few minutes picked up my hat. Then I again turned the kayak around and head for the shore. The only reason I risked life and limb was because number one I am crazy and number two I knew that in future the sun would come out and cook my head without my hat.<br /><br />As I got closer to shore I saw two sail boats tied together bobbing in the ever increasing wave height. I paddled closer and a women came out on the deck and she had a rope in her hand. I found out that they had lost power in their sailboat and her husband had gone to shore in order buy a new battery. As she got ready to throw me a rope, with the offer of warm cup of tea, a wave took me up above their boat and then down again, like I was riding a pogo stick. I thought I was on a merry go around but instead of grabbing the brass ring I would be swimming for my life. I paddled as hard as I could and cut in front of the sail boats and got behind some rocks jutting out from shore, where it was calm. I yelled to the women that I was moving on but thanks anyway. I came around the corner of the land and saw Waitata Bay, my campsite, which put a smile on my salty face.<br /><br />A barge working on a Green Lipped Mussel farm was at end of the bay. Long ropes attached to floats and covered with longer ropes hanging in the ocean where covered with mussels. Men and women where on the deck of the barge and the ropes were being pulled into machines that stripped the mussels. I gave a quick wave as I steered my kayak into the bay that would be my home for tonight. The wind was behind me and it was time to become surfing boy, as my kayak rode the waves to shore. After a few minutes I heard and felt the sound of sand under my vessel. I stood up for the first time in hours and I thought I might be having a religious experience as blood flowed to all body parts. I stepped from the kayak as a strong wind picked up my kayak and sent it rolling along the beach, like a child’s beach ball. I grabbed the front of the kayak and pulled it up on shore and behind some trees. I had some hot water on my stove and within a few minutes I had warm beverage inside of me. I set up my tent back in the trees away from the angry winds. As I sat in my tent thinking about how lucky I had been all day I heard he sound of a boat and a anchor chain being dropped over board. I got out of my tent and saw Mark my kayak owner in his motor boat. He had visions of me being swallowed up by the seas. I gave him the same signal that he had given me, early today. I motioned for him to leave and yelled that everything was fine. After dinner the wind died down and the sea was calm as I sat in front of a large roaring camp fire.<br /><br />The next morning the wind must have slept in, since my water world was calm. I paddle along the shore line and even the kayak seemed to enjoy the silence. By lunch time I noticed a road leading down to the waters edge. For a little diversion I decided to hike the road to see where it lead. The road was a like a rope laid on a mountain side as it worked it’s way up to the top. From the summit I could spy French Pass and Admirality Bay which I would paddle through some time today.<br /><br />After exploring on foot, I was glad to see my little yellow kayak and it was time to do some more exploring by sea. Within a few hours I came to my next camping spot, but with plenty of time I decided to paddle on. Around the next bay lay a huge fish farm. Two football size fields of fishing nets covered the ocean surface. A board walk built around the nets had the nets attached to them. A two story house for the fisherman factory workers to live, sat on one corner. As I approached the boardwalk a scuba diver surfaced and I could look through his glass face mask as he checked me out. Another worker was dropping a round hoop with a long net attached into the nets and was bring up flopping fish to the surface. “These are Chinook Salmon.” explained the fisherman. “These babies are sent all over the world!” he said. I found out that the diver was bringing up dead fish from the bottom of the net. “Does the owner of this fish farm live in the house?” I said with a chuckle. “Right mate, the Japanese owner has a yacht, the size of Auckland!” he said. I stayed around the factory for a few more minutes before heading to shore and looking at all the nice homes along the shore.<br /><br />At dinner time I paddle back to my camping spot with fresh water. Before dinner I started a drift wood fire and was able to look through the fire to see my objective for tomorrow. I had to paddle across Waitata Bay to Kauoroa island. I was thinking in the back of my mind, I hope the wind gods sleep in again.<br /><br />At the campsite there are two things I had to contend with was Stinging Nettles and Brush Hens. Stinging Nettles are a plant that have their leaves and stems covered with hairy surfaces. A stinging poison covers the hair and when you rub against it, the memories of the dentist chair with Novacain comes to mind. The plant loves to live along wet areas like where one would bend down to get fresh drinking water. Then your arm or leg is numb for a few hours. I heard that the plant can grow to the size of a small tree and can kill small animals.<br /><br />Another nuisance is the Brush Hen, these critters look a lot like a brown chicken and run like a Road Runner-beep-beep! They love to steal anything and all things that are shiny. They love to carry sun glasses into the bushes and then while holding the object under their feet will peck the living snot out of the glare. You can’t take you’re eye off the camp spot for a minute with out these chicken’s from hell carrying objects off.<br /><br />The next morning I sat in my kayak as the sun made it presence known. With three kilometers of open water in front of my bow, I didn’t want to have any strong winds to make my crossing a living hell. I could see the island before me and with every strong stroke I got a few meters closer. By the time the island was with in a few inches the wind did make it’s presence known but I was past it’s blast. I worked my way through a small channel and paddled up to a yacht anchored off the shore. A family that share the boat each year was sitting on the deck consuming breakfast from the sea. Fish and mussels made up most of the food items. The father had a good plan for me, if I wanted to dodge any big wind storms in the future. I could cross the island by carrying my kayak over a low pass called Piripaua Neck.<br /><br />As I entered Forsyth Bay there was numerous mussel farms dotting the horizon. Mark my kayak owner mentioned that if I wanted a meal of mussels, the farmers didn’t mind if a few where harvested. As I pulled up the rope supporting the mussels, I could look down in the water and see a rope twenty feet long covered with mussels. I grabbed hold of a rope that looked like it may have a some juicy mussels for my lunch. I was sitting in my kayak and as I pulled in the rope my kayak sank deeper in the water. I came to realize the only way to get this meal was with flippers and a knife, which I didn’t have.<br /><br />A high wooden dock jetted out into the bay that must have been used for loading sheep at high tide. I parked my kayak and walked past the docks to a old farm house on the hill side. No one was at home and I found the front porch to be the perfect stop to eat my lunch of peanut butter, not mussel!<br /><br />After lunch I followed the dirt road that lead up to the top of the mountain. I could see across the bay to Titirangi Bay which would make a nice camp site. In order to get to the bay I would have cross Sugar Loaf and then slip through Allen Straits. The Sugar Loaf part was pretty sweet-“sorry”, without any wind to speak of. Then came Allen Straits with ocean currents meeting at three different angles forming a witches brew. With one eye on the boiling water form the brew I made it past with thoughts of never having to tempt the witch and her boiling pot. I could head around the next island and I wouldn’t ever have to come back this way.<br /><br />I just had to cross Anakoha Bay and then I could follow the shore line to my camp site. As I entered the bay I noticed the waves and wind picking up a tad. By the time I got half way across the bay waves where coming over the front of the kayak and making me a little nervous. I wasn’t afraid but I sure was thinking about my future! I was paddling at a angle to the wind like you’re suppose to do. Just then the wind shifted directions and gears and really started to cover the kayak with water. I instantly just turned the kayak in the direction of the wind and the kayak and I acted like a surf board, going in the wrong direction. I just let the wind do what ever it had in mind with me. I realized pretty fast I was going back to the witches brew. I stayed as far a way for the churning waters as I could. Within a hour I was back at the place I had eaten lunch. The Piripaua Neck, the low spot on the island wasn’t that far away, for tomorrow’s adventure. I would camp out in front of this old farm house and then in the morning I would climb the pass carrying kayak and gear.<br /><br />I just sat on the front porch of the house waiting for the sheep rancher to make a appearance. As the sun said good night, I set up my tent and laid in my sleeping bag reading. I must have fallen asleep when I heard a truck pull up to the farm house and then head lights flashing across my tent. I half way expected a farmer with a pitch fork, to show up and wonder what in the world I was doing.<br /><br />I laid there waiting and finally fell asleep until it was morning. I rolled up my gear and paddled towards my corridor of freedom. I pull up to the steep slope of the pass. First thing I did was carry my gear to the top of the pass. When I reached the top the wind was so strong coming off the ocean it blew my hat over the pass and down the other side like a kite. I crawled back down to the kayak and started the job of dragging the kayak up the mountain. I had rope that I hook to the bow of the boat and wrapped the rope around my waist and started to pull. Half way up the rocky hill my feet kicked out and the kayak and myself went racing down the hill towards the water like a toboggan. I was able to grab hold of some bigger rocks and I came to a stop without much damage to the kayak or myself. I continued the journey and made it to the other side.<br /><br />From years of the wind and waves washing this that and other things into this Beatrix Bay, thousands of pieces of drift wood covered the beach. The wind was very strong and I decided to wait for a shift in the wind. I built a few modern art forms out of plastic bottle and dead logs, until I got bored and decided to challenge the wind. I pushed off and had my hand full fighting the wind. Mark had mentioned a camping spot on this side of the island and I was able to turn the kayak towards the site. This time the wind was working with me and with in minutes I was landing my vessel on a sandy beach. A herd of wild goats and Brush Hen’s where my welcoming committee as they fled to the protection of the forest as I landed.<br /><br />Sitting on a large log and eating my lunch I had a perfect view of my next mission, Pelorus Sound but that would be tomorrow.<br /><br />After a night of sleeping with my tent being blown back and forth from the never ending winds, it was morning. I had plans of crossing the Sound and paddling into Nydia Lodge that might be a great place to wait out the stormy clouds that where forming. I paddled over to Whakamawhi Point with plans on crossing this narrow passage to Tawero Point. Mostly because I couldn’t fight the winds coming across the windy bay. Even the short distance across the point was too much because of the strength of the wind. I turned the kayak around and hugged the Maud Island that was plastered with<br />“NO LANDING ALLOWED” signs since it was a sacred site. I could put up a white flag to surrender but it might be blown out of hand to Australia! I needed to cut my plans short and head back to Mark’s place and the safety of my car.<br /><br />With Maud Island on my left I headed to Apauau Channel, and the water was calm. I could see Camel Point that I would be my lunch spot. Mark had mentioned that I wouldn’t see any dolphins, because of the time of the year. The pod of dolphins that where swimming by my lunch spot must not have heard Mark. I got up and watched with fascinating as the pod blew air out of the spouts as they pasted. After finishing my lunch and thinking I wouldn’t see this pod of dolphins or any other pods I got back in my kayak. I noticed a mussel farm ahead of me and the dolphins where swimming around the floats. I paddled the kayak hard and then let the kayak coast up to the mussel farm. I sat right in the middle of the pod, as the dolphins where swimming in circles. One dolphin came to the surface and looked me right in the eyes. Within a minute another dolphin came back to the surface with a jelly fish on it’s snout. The playful dolphin threw the jelly fish and another dolphin came to the surface and hit the jelly fish with it tail. I just starred at my own personal Sea World act with disbelief, but I did clap in appreciation.<br /><br />Within a few hours I made it back to Mark’s beach and my car. Mark wasn’t there, so I put the kayak back where I found it and loaded up my car. As I drove back towards civilization I could see the wind forming large kayak wrecking waves in my rear view mirror.vince vogelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09409914685847755131noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-113513403868397494.post-24235161366752656712011-01-02T15:31:00.000-08:002014-02-07T14:00:21.256-08:00New Zealand-Lake Waikaramoana- #3 AdventureWith Lake Waikaremoana on my mind I was driving south from Rotorua. I had just left a bundle of cash at a grocery store but I had enough supplies to last for a week of back packing. The lake is a four hour drive south and the road surfaces will change along with the country side. I wanted to get to the ranger station before 4:00 pm to register before it closed today so maybe I had a little more foot on the gas peddle then usual. I tried to call the ranger station yesterday, after I got out of my last adventure at the Koranga River. The phone call was short and sweet with a ranger on the other end of the phone line for a millionth of a second. “It’s 4:05 pm!” as she dropped the receiver. <br /><br /> The paved road turned to dirt with in a few hours of driving. From now on it would me against wild pigs and wilder driving farmers. The pigs would dash out across the road like they had been shot out of a cannon. With everybody and their dog gunning for the little piggies I can see why. Captain Cook, the 1700's explorer, when he had visited the island had dropped off pigs just incase he wanted a pork sandwich if he ever made it back here. These pigs have a little longer snout and they are call Captain Cooker’s and are suppose to have a better taste. The farmers on the other hand just barrel down the middle of the road with a grazed look on their faces. They are easy to spot with a rooster tail of dust behind their trucks just about touching the sun. I don’t know if they are late for market or they all have a death wish, but it’s amazing the speed that the old trucks can obtain.<br /><br /> By 3:00 pm I pulled into the ranger station parking lot with a idea of a permit on my mind. I had to register in order to stay at the four huts around the lake. After meeting and greeting with the ranger she directed me to the camping area at Mokau Inlet, that would be my resting spot for tonight. The back end of my station wagon would make a perfect place to sleep. Another couple had the same idea only with their van in the next camping spot. I went over and started a conversation about he lake and fishing. A camper came up and asked us if we wanted to go out with him and fish for a spell. Come to find out my neighbor had a blow up Zodiac boat, but was forbidden to go out on the lake with it. He had taken it out yesterday morning when the lake was like a mill pond, then by after noon the wind had picked up and had created three foot waves. The poor Zodiac was thrown around like a frisbee at a fraternity party. “When I finally reach shore I thought my wife was going to take a knife to the boat, she was so worried!” he said. “ When we get back to Auckland the first thing am going to do is buy a real boat, or a new wife!” he said. The other fella had a real boat and with in minutes we were out in the middle of the big lake with the idea of catching a few fish. As they say the fishing was good but the catching was bad. Since there didn’t seem to be much else to do my new companions decided to bring up the subject of the Maoris, the people that lived in New Zealand before the white boys showed up. It reminded me of the movie “My Fair Lady!” The scene where Professor Higgens sings, “ Why can’t women be more like men!” But in this case these locals would add Maoris and white folks in the place of women and men. Since I didn’t want to have walk the plank, I just sat there and talked to my worm on the hook, instead of adding my two cents worth to the conversation.<br /><br /> The next morning the skies where clear with just a few wispy clouds. I had arranged to have a water taxi pick me up at the dock where I could park my car with out the fear of marauding Maoris. Last night I found out all social ills, stolen property, and rainy weather is blamed on these poor buggers. <br /><br /> By 10:00 am my taxi appointment had come and gone. I gave he company a call and was reassured that the boat was on the way, he had a pick up on the other end of the lake. The young fella with his even younger girl friend showed up with wet swimming suits and a funny look on their faces. The boat was called Pilot Fish but it should have been called Monkey Business. <br /><br /> A couple of older women slowly got on the boat and where just going on a joy ride around the lake. The boy toy and his girl friend where standing in the front of the boat as I approached the vessel. The lite weight aluminum boat was a twenty footer that I tried to gracefully board. I had my forty pound back pack on and that made a combined weigh of 300 pounds with my lard ass. As I step down on the gunnel of the boat, I thought the opposite gunnel was going to come up and touch my nose at the same time. The boat rocked so violently that all the occupants where thrown to the deck in one big pile. Luckily no one was hurt except for me wetting my pants laughing so hard.<br /><br /> After a few minutes the water taxi pulled up to the Onepoto dock and it was time to depart. This time everybody held onto something secure as I slowly crawled out of the boat. I thought the passengers where going to applaud when I stepped on to the dock without anybody getting thrown over board.<br /><br /> It was already 2:00 pm and I still had a five hour walk to the first hut named Panekiri. The ranger yesterday said this part of the trail would be the most strenuous with a elevation gain of 600 feet in eight kilometers. A couple of fellow hikers I noticed where walking towards me. “ Is this the right trail to the hut?” I asked. “Yes just keep following this path!” said the woman. This type of information can save you minutes of walking time or it can cost you hours of retracing your tracks. In this case when I ended up at the Redoubt Cemetery I knew they had buried me. With a little bit of shovel work I could have had a everlasting view of the lake. So I had to go back up to the original trail and follow it until it entered the jungle. The trail was so wide and nicely maintained it just didn’t seem right, I thought I had made a wrong turn and had ended at Disney Land. The path was six feet wide of maintained grass. The trail head sign was as big as a Walmart sign without the greeter. Most hikers only stroll along for two kilometers before they turn around and go back for a double latte and this is how long my Yellow Brick Road of a trail lasted. For he next six kilometers though, it would be a narrow path with every kind of stumbling obstacle known to man on the trail. <br /><br /> The trail did follow the lake as I made my way up the mountain. The views got even better the higher I got. The trees had the sculptured look from years of resisting the mighty wind. The bent and twisted trees seemed to be climbing over the giant rocks that they had grown beside. The higher I gained in elevation the colder the temperatures got. The front of my sweaty shirt had frost on and it but I didn’t have time to put on the defrosters.<br /><br /> I met two hikers coming down the trail and they had tons of encouraging words. “Your pack sure looks heavy, the hut is still miles a way and you won’t make it before dark and by the way have a nice day!” they said. I may end up at the Redoubt graveyard but I’ll make the hut before dark if it kills me. By 5:00 pm I was approaching the hut with minutes left of sunlight. I took off my pack with the idea of snapping a few pictures of the sunset. Because of the lower temperatures, a huge cloud of mist seemed to follow me as my sweaty hiking cloths seemed to just as glad as I was to be here. <br /><br /> The hut was fairly new and the interior was decorated with an assortment of hikers from all over the world. Three woman where sitting on the front porch with a cup of tea in their hands watching the sun say adios. Sarah was from England and she was dressed like she had stepped out of a fashion magazine for hikers. Her pants even had crease in them and her sweater hang around her neck by their sleeves. She even smelled good, I think she threw a sweet smelling powder in the air and ran under it. Luckily, the rest of the people in the hut, looked like early colonial, just like me. The other two woman sitting beside her looked like they hadn’t been close to a hair brush for a couple of days. A newly wed couple talked like they where from California, but their only connection to that state is that they changed planes in LA. They where from Belgium but had been taught English by a surfer dude from Malibu. <br /><br /> The food preparation area inside the hut was very clean and new. The windows looked out onto the lake, many feet below. The evening wind made the water surface seem to come alive as the setting sun last rays played on the waves. Everybody had different type of food they where going prepare and consume. The English lady had crackers packaged in a tin container with English Springer Spaniels painted on the lid. The honey moon couple didn’t have the years of irritating habits that seem to send older couples into opposite corners, during food prep. At this point in their lives opening a can of tomatoes can be a romantic moment, instead of the can becoming a lethal projectile used by older couples after a few hours of hiking.<br /><br /> After all the dinner plates where washed, someone started a fire in the stove. The glow from the fire was the only light in a room that was filled with darkness. Everyone took turns telling of their encounters along the trail with their own personal touch. Soon the thought of a soft bed became more inviting then the hard chairs we rested on. With small flash lights everyone was able to find their own sleeping bag. With in a few a minutes of everyone finding a comfortable position to sleep in, a loud crash could be heard from the kitchen. One woman said “I think it’s a rat!” I had hung my food three feet above the floor but a hungry rat could make a short job of this obstacle. I turned on my light and with a hiking boot in hand I crept into the kitchen. A large possum was standing on the counter and a large metal container was laying on the floor. With my flashlight as a light saber I pointed it towards his light collecting eyes. His head gave a twist since the bright light wasn’t his most favorite thing. A door had been blown open during the night and the critter made his escape the same way he had come in. He turned like he wanted to say sorry I was late for dinner, I was just helping myself as he left.<br /><br /> I awoke the next morning to the banging of a loose piece of tin on the hut roof. After breakfast all the hiker had different plans for today. I would be heading for Waiopaoa Hut that sat 8 kilometers from my breakfast spot. The beech trees forest would be my only companion as I walked along the trail back down to the lake. A heavy mist hung over the tree branches and made my surrounding seem like a dream. As I approached my hut the wind seemed to pick the mist and send it into the next valley. Today would be a short day of hiking as I prepared to eat my lunch on the hut front porch. With plenty of time on the my hands, the lake looked to much to resist for a good swim. I brought a book to have a bit of reading after I knocked the dust off my body with my swim. After dinner two Aussie’s showed up as they worked their way around the lake going in the opposite direction to me. They didn’t have much to say but after heating up their dinner they brought out three big bottles of beer and they shared. <br /><br /> When the sun went down the hut got very dark and I worked my way back to my bunk beds. As I lay on the bed I heard a noise that sounded like my fanny bag had fallen on the floor. I turned on my light and noticed a giant rat trying to get my fanny pack with a candy bar inside, under the door, since there was a big enough space. A well placed thrown hiking boot gave Mr. Rat the idea that I didn’t appreciate his thievery. The rat was elbows and ass hole as he slid under the door minus my pack.<br /><br /> The next morning I awoke to the plenty of sunshine on the lake as I ate my breakfast. Today I would walk around the lake to Marauiti hut. I noticed on my map the Korokoro Falls which was suppose to be worth a short hike off the trail. After a hour of walking I approached Kororoowhatiri Stream that came from the falls. I left my back pack along the trail that could easily hide my pack with the lush vegetation of ferns. My timing couldn’t have been better since when I gazed on the waterfalls the sun light made the water come alive with a illumination. <br /><br /> Within a hour I was back on the main trail and came to three hikers. After talking to these hikers, they said the trail just followed the lake shore. But within a few hours the trail just died at the lake. I retraced my steps and came to a nice building. A Maori ranger was sitting on the front porch and I found out his job was to protect Maori land. He explained that all private land is native land and it’s his job to watch over it. The ranger filled me with information about the legend of his people of the Tuhoe tribe. Hine-puohu-rangi the water, came from the sky and lured Te Maunga the mountain, to earth with her. Their children where mortal beings and that where the Tuhoe people came from. These people are born of supernatural spirits of remote mountains and drifting mist. The ranger went on to explained that the lake is sacred but the whites only see it as a water source, which makes some natives frustrated and angry. After getting an ear full about the troubles around paradise, my ranger gave me directions to the Marauiti Hut.<br /><br /> The Marauiti hut had a panoramic view of the lake. As I entered the remodeled interior a couple from South Africa where exiting. The couple had met in South Africa, the fella was born in New Zealand and had gone to Africa to do construction. This trip back to his home country was to convince his wife that this was the land of opportunity with out the violence of South Africa. I dropped my cloths and was in my swim suit before you could say “Hine-puohu-rangi.” After a short dip in the clean lake water, another couple from New Zealand showed up and they where from their winter home in France. The husband had more blisters on his feet then he actually had feet. I suggested that maybe they could catch a water taxi back to the ranger station and give the hubby’s feet a rest. As they where percolating on the subject a group of five woman showed up. The women where walking around the lake as their husbands used a fishing boat to cruise around the lake shore in search of fish and cold beers. Their boat pulled up with many coolers full of steaks and fresh fruit. Two of the women where sisters that owned a organic farm and from the looks of their muscular arms they must have been working out a lot. The other three women just where trying to keep up with these athletes.<br />As the sunset it was time to go to bed as twenty two hikers had rolled out their sleeping bags and we where packed in like sardines without the oil.<br /><br /> The next morning I awoke to a beauty of a day with plans for another hut named Waiharuru. The fella with the blister the size of silver dollars decided he could carry on, without the water taxi saving his life. The trail never left the shore line and occasionally I would see a fisherman bringing in a trout for his dinner. The hut that was recently built for $250,000 was quite the beauty or “FLASH” as the Kiwi’s say. It also had the reputation of have been the hanging out place for beer drinking Maoris. It was the talk of all the hikers since the beer drinkers had just left a few days ago and the empty beer bottles was the evidence. Two older hikers felt so uncomfortable that they had slept outside while all the partying went on.<br /><br /> In the afternoon two Israelis walked into the hut with enough gear to start a small sporting good store. The first thing they brought out was a stove that could have easily had fit onto a apartment counter top. Then they had all the pots and pans to go with the burners. Then the fella unloaded heavy can goods with a thud. After seeing all my lite weigh gear they asked for the five minute crash course in what not to pack for back packing with their aching backs in mind. <br /><br /> The muscle building women from yesterday showed up with plenty of food drinks to share with a hungry Yank. The men had caught some nice size trout and they smelled good on the barbeque. The French couple showed up with a little limping coming from the husband. They weren’t to tired to talk about American politics for hours on end. <br /><br /> Two other men from France where also sharing our hut with the idea of fishing their way around the lake. Both of the fellas had never fished before and they were very excited about all the big trout waiting for their lures. After dinner one of the Frenchies showed up with lake water pouring from his pockets as he went on to explain that he had fallen in the lake on the pursuit of his quarry.<br /><br /> My last day on this lake was spent peacefully walking to my rendezvous spot for my water taxi. The skies where clear and the trail was level and I was able to bring back memories of the Koorkoro water falls and about the Tuhoe people that once lived freely on this lake. The water taxi ride back was nice with a cool breeze coming over the bow of the boat and blowing any dust off my body.<br /><br /> I checked in the with the ranger and she told me of another lake called Waikaraeiti. It was a short hike and then I could rent a boat and paddle across the lake and save a few miles walking around it. The rental was $10.00 but the ranger advised waiting until tomorrow morning incase the wind gods picked up their heels.<br /><br /> Next morning the wind gods showed up with a vengeance. It was tough enough just walking up to the boat ramp must less taking a boat out onto the lake. The boat ramp wasn’t much more then a bunch of sand piled up on the lake shore. A large number of turned over boats dotted the shore line. As I stood in the trees I noticed a lone boat out in the middle of the lake with two fellas doing their best not to become the next Titanic. They sounded like a couple that had been married for a number of years and enjoyed belittling each other. “ I told you to paddle harder on the left, no on my left, oh my God!’ one said. Within minutes, which seemed like hours to them, they where close enough to shore that I could grab the boat and pull it in. I left them to finished their bickering without an audience and continued on my trail.<br /><br /> The trail followed the lake as the beech wood trees where swaying in the wind. Within a few hours I was able to enter the hut. Another hiker that was few years older then I, greeted me at the door. Because of the strong wind, we where hut bound for a few hours of story swapping.<br /><br /> Bob my new companion, was a retired electrician for Hawke Bay. Before that he had spent many years in the New Zealand Navy. He told me when he was in the Navy, part of everyday’s ration was a allotment of alcohol. The cook would bring down a keg with just the right amount of the magic juice for everyone on board, except officers, they got their own jet fuel. Not known to the sailor, the cook had taken a hammer to the metal measuring cup and dented in the bottom to make measure out just a tad bit less. The extra alcohol that was left over, the cook got to gulp down. With a hundred guy standing in the line, that could mean a lot of jungle juice for the tricky cook. Bob said if you did a officer a favor you where rewarded with a sample of their liquor. Bob delivered the mail to the captain one day and was rewarded with the captains alcohol or gasoline, because Bob said it burned all the way down and then it came back up like a volcano. Bob continued with his stories about when he was younger and worked in the forest cutting trees, which he loved. The trees of New Zealand where massive before the whites boys showed up. Bob with thousands of others harvested most of the huge trees. Bob said sometimes it took a few weeks just to build scaffolding around the tree, in order to cut it down. After the trees was down Bob’s boss had a matched set of oxen that would pull the trees out of the forest. The owner also had a small dog, that would only come to the boss. Each morning the boss man would whistle for the dog and then the dog would go get the oxen and drive them back to the work crew. One morning only one oxen showed up and the owner and the men found the other oxen had fallen into a football field size sink hole. The boss just fell to his knees and cried like a seven year old girl at her birthday party. The men then got together and started to dig a walkway around the sink hole. After a week of digging and keeping the ox fed they lead the beast out. Bob said the oxen where so well matched when one would turn his massive horned head the other would do the same, in unison.<br /><br /> After a few hours of swapping stories the wind died down and we where able to venture outside. This part of the lake is called Sandy Beach and it lived up to it’s name. The water was crystal clear and only a few feet deep for maybe a hundred feet out onto the lake. I spent the rest of the afternoon just walking around the lake with water up to my waist.<br /><br /> Before long the sun was setting and it was time to hit the sleeping bag. The subject of the two fellas that I had seen at the boat dock came up. Bob said they did act like they had been married for one too many years. As Bob lay in bed, in the next room he could hear one guy say to the other guy. “WHEN I SAY TO SHUT UP YOU SHUT UP, NOW GOOD NIGHT!” <br /><br /> The next morning I walked back to my car and had all the memories of my adventures of the two lakes bouncing around in my pea brain and it felt good.vince vogelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09409914685847755131noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-113513403868397494.post-56515883334299999912010-12-16T19:25:00.000-08:002014-02-07T14:00:02.831-08:00The New Zealand Chronicle ! #4In the winter of 2003 I was on my way to the land down under named New Zealand. I had spent a month in New Zealand the year before and had seen a life time worth of wonderful sights. On that trip a bus had dropped me off at the town of Thames. I had walked around the Coromandel Penninsula and I had ended my adventure at Tauranga. This year I would start where I had ended my trip last year.<br /><br />This time I had two months of travel time to kill if it didn’t kill me first. I had met some wonderful New Zealander on my last trip and the Sharp’s picked me up at the air port in Auckland. With the idea of me buying a vehicle we visited a few places that sold used cars, without much luck. Lots of visitors come to New Zealand and buy a car for the mode of transport for few months and then sell it. Some of the cars have been abused while others have been taken care of. When I hitchhiked last year tourists would pick me up with the main idea of not only helping me out but showing off their used car purchase and bragging about what a great deal they achieved. Some times the cars trunk would hold treasures in the way of tents and camping gear from the previous owner. All used cars seemed to be already gone before I could acquire a mighty steed. I would have to take a bus to Tauranga and then rent a slightly used car from Rent a Wreck, at a slightly lower rate. Bus rides can be very educational with the changing scenery and the verity of people sharing your space. By the time I arrived in my destination I had met a crossing section of the locals and the visitors to this island. Most of the visitors seemed to be from Germany and I wondered out loud if there was any more German’s left in Germany after this mass migration.<br /><br />At my bus drop spot I had the pleasure of meeting up with a fella that was being picked up by his sister and I could share a ride into the downtown. I was able to acquire the last car from Rent a Wreck and it was held together by bailing wire and spit. The mechanic said that it had a exhaust leak but if I kept the car window open I shouldn’t have much trouble. I thought if I start to see purple Kiwi birds with pink spots, maybe it would be a good idea to pull over and clear the fumes from my brain. The best part of this car besides the lower cost was the fact it was a station wagon and not only was it easy to load but in a pinch I could sleep in it.<br /><br />I didn’t have to drive very far when I saw a sign for a campground that advertised a natural hot springs. I set up my tent and was sitting in a hot springs with some other travelers before you could say, “This is life! The owners of the campground had carved this hot tub out of solid rock and the natural hot springs then filled in our giant bath tub. Folks from all over the world where sharing my warm water and the beers to be passed around. One fella was from Belfast, Ireland originally, but after meeting the girl of his dream in New Zealand, he had moved his liquor soaked carcass to this island. I don’t know if it was the beers or the beer caps under his tongue, besides his accent but he was very had to understand. His wife would have to be the interpreter after every one of his stories. I asked him if he liked the warm dry weather better to his liking compared to the cold wet of the Emerald Island of his home land. After downing the last beer he said, “You know it never rains in the Belfast pubs!” Come to find out that most of the pubs are connected by doorways so you don’t have to go outside during bad weather, you just walk from bar to bar. He said the main reason for leaving Ireland, was because he wanted to raise a family away from the free flowing alcohol.<br /><br />After dinner I was sitting at my own picnic table along side my tent when I noticed a young woman sitting in front of her tent starring a hole through a road map. “Are you familiar with biking the Coromandel Penninsula roads?” asked my neighbor. I told my new friend that I had walked the whole area last year, so maybe that made me some what of a expert. As I explained about some of the narrow roads and crazy drivers, I noticed and asked about her hands that had the looks of burns that had healed. The flood gates of her young life was opened like a dam break. Inga was from Germany and had graduated high school this year with a real yearning to see the world, with limited funds. The first think she did with her little bit of dinero was buy a around the world airline ticket. One of her stops was Sydney, Australia with out much of anything else except an ambition to widen her horizons. As she worked her way through customs she became acquainted with a group of travelers that was missing one it’s members. This poor fella had gotten deathly ill just before the trip was really ready to get under way, and he was left at home. Fortunately for Inga he had paid for his travels and her new friends offered her, his place, on a month long travels of Australia.<br /><br />Then when that trip was over she flew to New Zealand without much in the way of plans or money to see the two islands. Again as she was working her way through the airport in Auckland, a fellow German pulled up on his bicycle with all the camping gear attached. He had biked the roads of New Zealand for month and had a burning desire to be up close and personal with his girlfriend back in the Fatherland. Because of the time restriction he didn’t have time to sell his bike, so he offered it to Inga with all the camping gear. At the end of her adventure she would sell the equipment and send this fella the money.<br /><br />Inga never spent much time tooling around on a bike in Germany, much less with forty pounds of gear loaded down on it. On the first big hill leading into Auckland the front wheel started to shimmy back and forth violently, that’s the last thing she remembers, except she jammed on the brakes real hard. A Swiss couple that where driving down the road at the same time said that the bike flipped over and Inga slid along the hard road, until most of her cloths where in tatters, except the ones covered with blood. Inga woke up in the hospital and wondered what in the hell happened. That was the reason for her skin looking like it had been burned. After spending a few weeks in the hospital and fixing up the bike, she was ready to take on the roads again. I asked her if she didn’t have a brother that might travel along with her. “Oh I have a brother, but he’s a mamma’s boy!” she said. I thought compared to Inga, the Terminator would be a wimp.<br /><br />The next morning I was on the road heading towards the town of Whakatane and the beginning of my adventure. I had left my walking stick in the first car that had given me a ride and I needed to replace it in this town maybe. The pronunciation of the name of Whakatane is a rather interesting use of the Maori language. The Wh is pronounced fuck and as a result, when people piss you off and you tell them to “Go Wahkatane yourself !”, they might be offended, but you might see them driving towards the town.<br /><br />I walked into a local hardware store that might carry a new walking stick or at least know where to acquire one. The owner told me that he didn’t carry any walking stick but was interested in where I was headed on my walk about. As he produced a map of the Eastern Bay of Plenty, he suggested I might get start with in a few miles of the town. “The remoteness of the Koranga River has some great sights and nice huts to stay in.” he suggested. Just then the morning quiet of the country store was broken by the squeaking of the screen door then the banging as it closed. A powerfully built man walked up to the counter, where we had the map spread out. It was a draw on which smelled worse his dog or the owner. In the way of appearances the dog was paws ahead. This farmer had just finished slicing and dicing a few sheep and his cloths proved it. His baseball cap even had bits of wool and blood on it bill. I think his shirt started out as flannel, but along with the pants, they where covered with sheep lanolin grease. While brushing off a few of the bigger pieces of the deceased sheep from his outfit he said. “ At least the grease acts like a waterproof while I hunt in the back country!” “It’s been a year since I butcher a woolie and the rain still bounces off of me!” he said. The store owner explained that Bob was a government goat hunter in the area that I was interested in exploring. “What kind of goat do you hunt?’ I asked. “Let go to my truck and bring in a photo album of my last hunt, it might spark your interest.” Bob said. Within minutes Bob had the album spread out on the counter that held the map. It showed in detail all the dangers of hunting a semi domestic goat with a high power rifle. I am not sure but I think maybe the recoil from the rifle may have knocked a few screws loose in Bob’s head from the images of the pictures that he was so proud of. One clearly dead goat was wearing Bob’s hunting hat, while smoking a pipe and behind the wheel of this hunter’s truck. Another goat was propped up in a lawn chair reading a newspaper. I was wondering what type of test Bob had to pass in order to become a government hunter. One of the questions could been, have you or any member of your family ever had a rational thought.<br /><br />Bob said, “Maybe the next time your down we could go out on a goat hunt!” I never was very photogenic, especially strapped to Bob’s fender smoking a pipe was my first thought. Bob did have a few better suggestions about where I could hike in the Koranga River basin. The ranger station was in the town of Opitiki, that handled the permits for the area. Bob suggested that I didn’t really have to register, he was probably thinking it would be easier for him to get rid of my body a lot easier that way. After buying the map and a wooden dowel that I could make into a walking stick I left one of the more interesting stores that I have been to for a long while.<br /><br />I pulled up to the ranger station in Optiki, with the thought of getting all the permits that I would need. A Maroi woman was in charge of this building that was a little bit bigger then your average phone booth. “Are you going to be pig or goat hunting?” she asked. I found out if I was just sightseeing the huts where free. The huts where plainly marked on the map but the trails in between didn’t show any visible signs of any established routes. “That’s easy!” said the woman, “Just follow the rivers!” “What happens when it rains and the river level rises?” I asked. “Raise the level of your pants!” was her come back.<br /><br />As I motored my way to the road to start my trek, I came to a bend in the road that held a fruit stand. The shelter was covered with palm leaves, like you might see in Hawaii. Hoanni stood behind the counter that was covered with a large assortment of fruits. His grandmother had originally owned the land and when she went to the that big fruit stand in the sky Hoanni came back from Auckland and took over. As Hoanni bagged my selections he asked about my holiday. I told him I was on a quest for beauty. “Sounds like a wonderful way to spend your life!” he said. “I have two beauties that you might want to take a look at. He gave the directions to them and I drove to the first one. I stopped along the main road and walked back into the jungle and first heard and then noticed a large waterfall descending into a large pool. From the way the large rocks where arranged I could tell the local’s used this as a swimming hole. I drove back to the fruit stand and sang the praises of the sacred pool that I had just visited. My next secret spot was just behind the fruit stand after I followed a trail down to the ocean. I entered a large cave with the ceiling covered with years of soot from countless fires. The ancient Maroi’s had used this protected spot to do their wood carvings as they watched the ocean waves pound against the beach. By the time I made it back to the fruit stand Hoanni’s son and a few friends had stopped by. The three of them had some sort of smoking contraption and I don’t think tobacco smoke was the material that they where sucking into their lungs. They just used a plastic pop bottle filled with water, then there was a metal bowl on top that was filled with burning wacky tobaccie. Then each one of them would suck the smoke into their lungs with such force I thought their eye balls where going to pop out and roll across the counter. They offered me some but I had to put on some miles in order to find my first hut before dark, besides driving on the left side of the road is tough enough sober, so I said good bye.<br /><br />I found Moanui Valley road easily enough and then I had to follow this road for a hour going ten miles a hour because of the rough condition of the road. I was glad to see the Koranga River trail head sign, since the thought of being lost crossed my mind. I got my back pack ready with all the fruit I had bought at the fruit and medical marijuana stand! The river bottom where I stood had a very steep valley and the surrounding was covered with many white fuzzy balls, with legs. The sound of the sheep baaing echoed off the fast moving river as it worked it way through the open country side. It reminded me of the time I was in New Zealand and there was a brush fire on a steep hill side. A flock of sheep got trapped in the flames and their wool caught fire but as they rolled down the hill the fire was put out. It was quite the sight to see a rolling ball of fire with baaing coming out of it and at the bottom of the hill the sheep got up and ran off.<br /><br />Within a few minutes I met my first and last visitors to the river basin, as they stood waist deep in the cold water. The three where fishing for some type of trout and after a few hours without any success, any type of fish would do. The couple did manage to snag a bush with their fly and where swearing in German. The guide after asking where I was headed, told me to watch out for the fast rising rivers after a rain storm that was predicted for tonight.<br /><br />As I closed the sheep gate I entered the world of Jurassic Park, with fern trees and every object covered with green moss. Giant beech trees and cascading waterfalls was my only companion as I worked my way through the maze. I followed the river and with in a hour I came to a suspension bridge that let me cross the river and find the Koranga River Fork Hut. The hut wasn’t the Ritz but you couldn’t beat the cost. There was two sets of bunk beds that had a great view of the river. A pot belly stove was in the far corner, with a fresh supply of wood beside it. The skies looked a little darker then when I had arrived so I wanted to get a warm fire going. I had a brought along some lighting fluid for those hard to start fires and boy did it work. I loaded the stove with wood and sprayed the fluid. I threw in a match and I swear the stove jumped off the floor by several inches, but the fire started just as quick. As my dinner was bubbling on the stove I pulled a chair up to the doorway and marveled at my million dollar view. A wind storm that had the appearance of becoming a major down pour, swayed the ancient tree canopy. As I ate my dinner and read the hut diary the rain hit the hut with a vengeance. The window facing the river became my view and protection from the pelting rain. I could hardly believe just two days ago I was stuck in Denver traffic and now I was in the back country of New Zealand.<br /><br />After all my adventures today and with sound of the rain falling on the metal roof I fell sound a sleep. I awoke during the night with the sound of falling rain and the scratching sound of something else on the metal roof. I grabbed the flashlight and flashed it towards the skylight in the ceiling. Two yellow eyes attached to a fuzzy body and long rat tail filled the corner of the skylight. For those that believe in the devil, this could have been his cousin, but it was a opossum. They where imported to New Zealand years ago and now have become a major nuisance. When you rent a car the sales person ask you to run over everyone you see. If you ask about walking a trail, the ranger will ask you to club the living snot out of every possum you encounter. Even thought they look like diabolo reincarnated, I didn’t want to have the possum spirit following me, so this critter and I just starred at each other.<br /><br />The next morning the major part of the storm seemed to have passed and all that was left was some clothes soaking drizzle. Just making it to the out house was challenge. The green ferns, held gallons of water as I waded my way through them. I now know what a car feels like going though a car wash. The water logged fronds of the ferns wrapped around my legs and within a few seconds everything is completely soaked to the bone. As I packed a lunch I noticed looking out the window how much the river had risen. I had plans on walking down river to the Nikau Flat hut for lunch and hopefully I wouldn’t need a raft. I left my hiking boots in the hut since I would be wearing sandals from now on. I must have crossed the swollen river a hundred times before I arrived at the hut. The upside of the rain was all the waterfalls coming from every direction on the banks as I made my way along the river .<br />The hut was a welcome relief from the drizzle as I ate my lunch and listened to the river churning it’s way to the ocean. After a short nap I had to make it back to my hut before night fall, so I got started. By dinner time I was back at my hut and the sun tried to come out as a welcoming sign.<br /><br />The next morning the skies where partly cloudy. It was ten miles to the Tewa hut my next destination. The valleys where so narrow it would have been impossible to have any type of trail, that was not on the river bank. The river had filled up the banks at this point because of all the rain. My walking stick and wool socks inside sandals was the only way to handle this next part of my adventure. The river was a tad bit higher and stronger. The water seemed to be darker in color so at the numerous river crossings I wasn’t sure what I would encounter just under the river’s surface. Slippery bowling ball size rocks made up some of the more challenging crossings. Large beech trees dislodged by this storm and blocking the river added to the fun of my watery path. A couple of the fallen trees where so big that I didn’t have to duck to get under them. The sun occasionally tried to break free of the clouds and would light up the river in a spot light appearance. I noticed on the map fourteen creeks emptied into my river and some of them had water falls attached to them. The verity of water shows from these water falls added a lot of entertainment value to my voyage. Each bend in the river added to my curiosity of what may lay ahead in the way of obstacles. Finally after making my way through the river of no return the hut was positioned on the other side of the river and I only had one more river crossing today .<br /><br />I could smell the cabin before I saw it. It didn’t smell like grandmother’s house on Christmas morning, unless granny owned a slaughter house. The outside of the hut looked like a wildlife horror movie set. A young deer carcass was swinging in wind as it hung from a tree limb. Most of the meat had been strip from it’s bones and the smell was enough to gag a maggot. Wild pig heads had been nailed to both sides of the entry door, which added to the mood of the place. Two fish eyes seemed to be looking me over as I entered the hut from a large trout head that had been nailed above the door. I disturbed the lunch of a large hawk as he feasted on two large pig livers that had been laid out on top of the water cistern. If I planned on staying here I would need a shovel and some soft dirt to give all these critters a proper burial and me some relief from the odor penetrating the air. I found a shovel inside the hut next to a note left by the last sicko’s that had used the hut as a slaughter house. It seems that the group had lost three hunting dogs and the hunters where offering a reward for their return. If I were those canines I would still be running from this mob.<br /><br />The next morning the weather looked promising and I wanted to head to the next hut named Makakoere for a bit of lunch. The trail again just followed the river. My first obstacle was a boulder field that blocked the river and formed a deep pool of water. A large waterfall was also a by product of the rock formation. I had to swim through the pool until I got to the rocks and then I climbed over them. Since the temperature’s had warmed up it was a great relief. By lunch time I was sitting in the hut and actually started a fire in the stove to dry my cloths a tad. After a nap I walked and swam back to my base camp at the animal grave yard. When I got back to my hut I noticed some clown had thrown a dead possum into the water cistern and I had been drinking out of it for two days!<br /><br />The next morning a lite rain was my companion for my walk back to the car. The undergrowth again acted like a car wash with the ferns acting like washing fingers you might find in any car wash. I found the car and as I pulled onto the main road a man approached the car carrying a rifle and machete. He had become separated from his dogs and hunting partners and needed a ride down the mountain. I was going to ask him if he was one of the guy that left the dead animals at the hut, but the machete looked very sharp and I didn’t want my head nailed to any hut in the near future.vince vogelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09409914685847755131noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-113513403868397494.post-65316002074519246182010-11-22T13:47:00.000-08:002014-02-07T14:00:02.837-08:00Canoeing the Everglades !In 1998 at a garage sale I picked up a map called the Wilderness Waterways representing the Everglades in Florida. I didn’t have a clue what might be involved with a water trail that goes for 150 miles through swampy wilderness. I guess you can’t call it exactly a trail since it follows rivers, creeks and large bays according to my new map. I could tell from the pristine condition of the map that the previous owner had bought it on a whim or his wife slapped some sense into him. I was thinking along the same line, how, where and why should I get started on this adventure.<br /><br /> I bought a canoe magazine that happened to have a story about canoeing in the Florida Everglades. It mentioned about a company that rents canoes and runs a hostel for me to lay my head before I started my trip in Everglade City. The article mentioned about marauding raccoons and hungry looking alligators. After looking at my map I knew that the trip like most adventure where going to take lots of planning. <br /><br /> I contacted the Everglade Rental & Eco Adventure Canoe Company and set up a reservation for my canoe rental for eleven days. I also needed a place to lay my head for the first night at their Ivey House. After I finished my adventure in Flamingo I needed someone to have my rental car waiting for me.<br /><br /> Because of the tricky raccoon with their goal of eating all my food, I would need to raccoon proof my food containers. I bought a few thumb screw locks that I could attach to my ice chests. Because I would be away from any forms of ice I would have to carry dry food in my containers. I made two weeks of dried vegetables and snacks. I dried oranges and mixed them with coconuts, nuts and mixed with honey for a quick energy food. In waterproof stuff sacks I packed my sleeping bag and cloths. <br /><br /> Pam my wife was going to celebrate her fifth year on this earth and she didn’t want to be in Denver during that time. I decided to have my trip revolve around Pam’s birthday. So I needed to buy my plane ticket to Miami Florida for the middle of January and then acquire Pam’s ticket for the first week of February after my trip was done, or I was and she would meet me.<br /><br /> When I showed up at the Denver Airport, I had the looks of the Beverly Hillbillies meet the swamp people. Coolers and stuff bags lay in front of the check in counter ready for my agent to raise her thumb or turn it down and then I am thrown to the lions, or gators in this case. After explaining what I had on my pea brain I was allowed to continue with my trip. The agent with everybody else on this giant blue marble had hundreds of questions. “What are you going to do if you wake up with a spiders is on your face and a alligator is chewing on your feet?” was some of the questions. “What if you get lost and all you hear is banjo music and some one is squealing like a pig and hopefully it’s not you!” was another one. My parents must have dropped me on my head but I don’t contemplate about all the hardships, I think of all the new excitement and sights that I can add to the library in my brain. <br /><br /> As I arrived at the Miami airport I noticed it was raining and dark, and now I wish I had bought a earlier ticket. After loading my rental car I headed for the Tamiami Trail with my headlights pointed towards Everglade City. I found out that there was possibility that I might see a alligator or two along this road but I didn’t. By 10:00 pm I pulled into the parking lot of my temporary home. The lobby was empty except for a few people that you might picture living at a Ivey House hostel on the edge of the Everglades. I found a note on the check in desk with a my name and key attached. Maybe the clerk had gone for a walk during the night and had a close encounter with a gator or two. After dropping my bags in my room I returned to the water hole in the way of the lobby. Everybody had some sort of liquor in their hands and they seemed to have years of experience behind their bent elbows. I brought out my map of the Everglades and most people gathered around to see what crazy ass idea I had in mind. Most of the people in audience didn’t have much information or experience in the Everglades but they had more then just a few suggestions. I found out that the man with all information that I would needed for my ten day trip was away but would return tomorrow. During the night I had to get up and use the community bathrooms. As I walked down the hall way I thought I was dreaming when a German girl just wearing a smile came strolling down the hall towards me, since I am married I diverted my eyes of course . What do you say, where do you look, and I thought what a way to start a adventure.<br /><br /> The next morning I noticed a large fella behind the lobby desk that had the looks of knowing how to handle the swamp. After introducing myself, he suggested that I eat breakfast and then we would meet and plan my trip. After wolfing down my breakfast I found my savior outside his time and again my plans was put on the back burner behind my guides other obligations. Then after walking a few miles around the lobby trying to keep my anxiety in check, my path founder made a appearance. I followed him to a room beside the lobby and as I opened the door and flicked on the light, I noticed maps with a curled over edges attached to the walls. On tables lining the walls sat artifacts from past adventures. Jaw bones from alligators without many pieces of tourist stuck to teeth sat on the table beside turtle shells without the original owners. On a empty table I proudly spread out my map of the Everglades Wilderness Waterway. Just as quickly my guide roughly curled them up into a ball and threw them into the waste basket. “If you used that map you would be so lost that gators and snakes would send out thank you notes to the map printer!” he said as he brought out a two navigational maps. I found out from the man with the knowledge that some of the chickee where in different places then were on my map. By the way a chickee is a raised wooden platform above the swamp, that has been constructed by rangers in the Everglades to keep campers from becoming some animal’s bile movement! My new best friend helped me set up my ten day trip through the swamps and to see everything that needs to be seen. Now I needed to drive to the ranger station and reserve chickees and land sites with the National Park Service. <br /><br /> As I drove to the ranger station, I was also able to stop by a sporting good store to buy a fishing license. The store was a great place to start to come in contact with local flaunt and flora. A man with a beer belly that could be a poster child for sumo wrestling was standing behind the counter, with half his stomach covering the glass top. “Where are you going to fish besides the water, the ocean, lakes, rivers or just swamp?” asked the ton of fun of a man. After buying the right licenses, to keep the southern sheriffs from boarding my canoe, I got to hear all the horror stories about swamp travel.<br />“One time I caught a mess of fish and had them tied to the back of my canoe with the thought of my wife gutting and cooking this batch for my dinner, when I noticed the front of the canoe was being lifted skyward.” he said. “ An alligator had swallowed all my dinner of fish attached to the boat and was pulling the canoe down to the bottom of the muddy bottom.” said the salesman. “Then luckily the rope snapped and the canoe with me came back to the water surface with a boom.” said the fisherman. With the weight of this fella it’s close to a miracle that the canoe didn’t sink like a rock with him as ballast. <br /><br /> The ranger station only had one car in it’s parking lot which would be good for me. As I entered the station, the lone ranger was sitting at his desk with his head laying on the top. As he sat up his eye’s looked like they had rolled back in his head. I found out that the all night party with Jungle Juice as a the host, packed quite a punch. I tried to keep my voice down and the lights turned low, as we looked over my newly bought map. Hopefully the ranger wouldn’t decorate my map with last nights party food as we discussed my plans. I was able to reserve all my campsite which made my day. I found out that the park service has the policy, if you see a alligator don’t get into the water. The ranger was really glad to see me leave so he could lay his head back down to where he had left it and roll his eyes back in his head.<br /><br /> I made it back to the hostel where my canoe and gear had been loaded in a pickup truck. With my new maps in my front pocket and hope in back pocket I was ready to head out. The owner’s son would drive me to the Turner River where I would get this show underway. It took us a more then a few minutes to get all my gear in the canoe. I had four five gallons containers that would hold my fresh water, since most of the waterways are brackish or pure salt. I loaded it in the front of the canoe to hold down the bow in case the wind decides to play spin the canoe. After saying my goodbyes I started my trip with just one paddle in the still water. With my map I knew I had to make Sunday Bay and the chickee before the sun said adios. I noticed a few people walking along the river bank and got a occasional wave of their hands as a way to wish me good luck or a way to say what in the hell are you doing! After a couple hours of paddling I came to Cross Bay and their was group of boats fishing in the neck of the bay. I thought it might be fun to paddle by and exchange a greeting or two. This was going to be the start of my education when I noticed the water getting very shallow. I was going to learn about the different colors of water and what to look for when the tide was going out. I came to a sliding stop on top of sticky mud with a full load in my canoe. As I looked at the fisherman I tried not to have the appearance of a trapped rat. I slowly started to back paddle and slide backward since I couldn’t get out without sinking up to my arm pits in baby poop mud. I got quite a education in a short time, don’t get stuck in mud and my next lesson would be in navigation.<br /><br /> As I entered the Sunday Bay I noticed how big it was compared to the map. I thought I could figure out where the rivers and small coves where as they entered the bay by looking at them and then looking at the map. I thought I was on the right cove when I came to it’s dead end and there wasn’t any more bay. I came back up the bay with a little more strength in my paddle since it was getting late, when I noticed a fellow canoeist bobbing along the shore line and looking at a map as he scratched his head. “Well I knew where it isn’t, because I have been there!” I said. “I think it’s in this cove straight ahead!” said my new friend. Luckily this time I didn’t turn up the cove and I let this fella try it out. I told him I would give a holler if I found the chickee. Within a matter of minutes, my friend got stuck in a shallow bay. I paddled into the next bay and there stood two chickees and it looked good. Four post sunk into the swamp held up a roof and there was a walkway connecting to a outhouse. I pulled up to the chickee and tied up my canoe. I started to yell to my fellow canoeist and then noticed his canoe come into the bay. I set up my tent and got all my food out of the canoe. It felt good to get out of the canoe and straighten out my legs. I had enough energy to get out my fishing gear and scare a few fish. I didn’t have a good way to cook the fish so I would be doing catch and release instead of catch and grease. The two chickees where about forty feet apart but close enough to talk to my friend. I found out he was going to stay out for just two nights and was from Gettysburg Pa. I caught a few fish and had my line out while I cooked my dinner.<br /><br /> After the sun went down, I turned on my propane light which put out a lot of illumination. After reading a few pages from a paper back book that I brought along, I noticed the bright light had attracted many fish. As I turned off the light you could hear a loud swish noise as the fish drove under the water. Just like people had been doing for thousand of years, but for a minute I thought I had discovered it!<br /> The next morning after hearing everything in the world swim by my temporary home during the night, I got ready to leave. Just like a Country Western song I wrote my wife’s phone number on a five dollar bill and as I handed it over to my partner on the next chickee, I asked him to call Pam when he hits civilization and tell her I am not gator bait yet.<br /><br /> I found out the importance of knowing where the hell I am at in the Everglades and paying attention to where I am going. There are 4x4 post sticking out of the water arranged by the park service with numbers attached that are suppose help us adventurers stay on a steady course. These numbered posts are be followed from Everglade City to Flamingo, the promised land, in my case. The numbers also correspond to the numbers on my spanking new map. It all seems so easy, just follow the recipe for disaster, I mean the way out. I have a compass but who needs a compass, when I get to a bay I just follow the shore line with my eye and get a reference off the map and paddle like a wild man. My first experiment was meet with complete and utter failure. I looked across Last Huston Bay and saw the inlet for the river that would lead me to Oyster Bay. All was wonderful in the world, I would paddle leisurely across and there would be a post with the number 101 attached. When I arrived there wasn’t number or post to be found. Maybe it’s in the inlet a little bit, I’ll just paddle some more, that’s when I slide into the sticky mud. It took me a few minutes to back out and start all over again. This time I went to the next inlet and low and behold was post number 117. Maybe it’s time to break out the rusty trusty compass. The sight of Oyster Bay gave me the feeling of accomplishment, I had paddled two miles and didn’t get lost or eaten. The bay I noticed on my map was cut into two sections. The first section had another post marked 114 and from here I would take a compass bearing. I had one of the cooler sitting right in front of me. I turned it into a picnic table and map table, where I could set the compass and take a bearing. I pointed the compass towards where Huston Bay should be and made a bee line for that point. I didn’t take my eyes off my bearing point and arrived at the right spot. That would be my job from now on, every night after dinner I would make reference compass sightings and write them down on the map.<br /><br /> The sight of Sweetwater Chickee put a little more energy into my paddle strokes. I had made it all the way and only had one little mishap with directions. The chickee was all by itself and there wasn’t soul around, except for birds and fish. It felt real good to get out of the canoe and walk around my ten feet by ten foot platform. I brought out the fishing gear and caught a few salt water fish. I don’t know why they call this place Sweetwater when it’s salt water for miles around.<br /><br /> The next morning I was up and at it with the next chickee on my horizon, I hope! I had to maneuver through Deer Island Creek and then make my way over to Chevelier Bay. The Florida mornings so far have been the same. I would wake to cool weather and then by 10:00 am it would warm up. The wind would also be right behind the sun’s heat. The bay was beginning to get some white caps and this made for a interesting crossing. The canoe that I had rented had a gunnel along the bottom so it stayed on course in a slight breeze, but you still had to paddle like mad to keep from being turned into a spinning top. <br /><br /> The next bay was called Cannon, which I didn’t see or hear any thank goodness. Then I entered Tarpon Bay that would lead me to Alligator Creek. The creek was very narrow with just enough room for my canoe to slide through the mangrove. I was paddling along when I spotted my first gator. I got out my camera and just let the canoe coast up to my quarry. The one thing I didn’t notice was the fact that another gator was sunning itself a few feet closer. As the canoe coasted into the mangrove it rubbed against the branches and made a loud squeaking noise. Lucky for me I wasn’t standing up because the sleeping gator woke and came towards the river like he was shoot out of a cannon and smashed into the front of the canoe. It was a like a giant had taken a play canoe and turned it completely around in the opposite direction. The gator that I was trying to take a picture of joined in on the fun and made a big splash into the river and disappeared into the depths of the river.<br /><br /> After I changed my undies I continued into Alligator Bay but didn’t see any of the critters. Then I paddled across Dad’s Bay and went down Plate Creek. On a small island in the end of Plate Creek Bay I found my next chickee. I had just emptied the canoe and had my tent set up when I heard this noise like a large flock of birds was flying towards me. I stepped back under the roof of the chickee when the rain came pouring down. The noise was the rain bouncing off the leaves of the mangrove as the storm made it’s way towards me. I was glad I was able to sit under a shelter and eat my dinner instead of being out in a open canoe getting soaked.<br /><br /> This morning the map pointed out the fact I had to cross over Lostman’s Five Bay and I hope it wasn’t going to be me. I was heading to Willy Willy campsite that was on solid ground. I would be staying here for two nights, that way I could explore around the mangroves and possibly get myself into more trouble. I crossed Onion Bay and then continued to Third Bay without much trouble. My compass readings seemed to be working out. At Big Lostman’s Bay I had to follow the Rocky Bay Creek to my campsite. The creek was narrow for thirty minutes of paddling and then a small bay signaled my campsite. <br /><br /> I stayed here for two days and this gave me time to fish and take the canoe out onto the water empty and do some exploring along the creek and small bay.<br /><br /> This morning I would take my canoe into waters hardly made for a canoe, the Gulf of Mexico. First I had to paddle down Rock Creek River until it emptied into Rodgers River Bay. Then for the rest of the afternoon I would follow the Rodgers River until it spilled into the sea. The delta was dotted with small islands just before I entered into the Gulf of Mexico. I saw some dolphins and sharks in the water directly in front of me, but by the time I got to the spot they pulled a Harry Houdini and disappeared. <br /><br /> I followed the shore line until I found a good spot to beached the canoe. Swaying coconut trees in the wind decorated the shore line. I pulled the canoe up far enough to not lose it to incoming tides and set up camp. Then came time to explore and beach comb for lost treasures, I figured a few gold coins could come in handy. I did find the spot where Horseshoe Crabs come up on shore to breed and croak. There was hundred of empty shells from over sexed crabs that must have made some hungry raccoon very happy.<br /><br /> This morning could prove to be very interesting with a waterway called The Nightmare between me and my next campsite. It is only passable during high tide and then very quickly, or you’ll be left high and dry in the middle of the wilderness. I was sitting in my canoe and as soon as first light made appearance and was paddling, like no tomorrow, which might be right. The Nightmare connected to the Broad Creek, which sounded a tad better. I was paddling along though this narrow passage way that had heaps of large trees all around. Some times I would have to back my canoe around into a side creek, just to make a tight turn. By noon I noticed the tide going out and taking my water source with it. My last obstacle was a fallen tree over my passage way. I had to get out of the canoe and by standing on the log lift the canoe over the tree. Most of the Everglades is pristine clean, because the tides come in everyday day and washes out the swamp, except for this part. The water here because it couldn’t drain all the way, was the color of Mountain Dew soda pop.<br /> From the Broad Creek I paddled into the Harney Creek and at the intersection I saw my next chickee named Harney Creek! On the mud flats along the river sat large logs rested in the mud, except these logs had legs and teeth. Five large alligators had pulled themselves up on the shore line and was soaking in the sun. I thought maybe I could paddle over and take a great picture or at least put on some sun tan lotion. I decided the chickee was close enough to have my Kodak moment. Wouldn’t you knew it, but this chickee had seen better days or the gators had chewed out the supports and it swayed with the breezes. I had visions of while I was sleeping that a big wind comes along and push the chickee over and I become a gator’s midnight snack. <br /><br /> This morning I would head up Harney Creek and make my way across Tarpon Bay. It was early in the morning when I got under way and as I was paddling along I noticed a gator swimming towards me and we crossed paths. It reminded me of that German girl I saw in the hall at the hostel, I didn’t know what to say to either one of them! As I entered Tarpon Bay I noticed a couple boats. Two boats were bobbing along with one fella standing on each platform above the engine. He had along pole that he used to push the boat along and was giving instructions to a older fella monkeying with a fishing rod. “Look over there to your right, it’s a big one cast that way!” yelled the guide. I paddled up close enough for the guide to inform me that a giant Tarpon was in these waters and if they caught him he might come right thru my little canoe. In other words get the hell out of the way, I got a paying customer here, you granola eating canoeist! <br /><br /> I had Cane Patch Mangrove on my mind and it would be my camp site for two whole days. The Avocado Creek would lead me to my temporary home. The creek was small but it lead me into a bay that held a dock and my campsite. I noticed a few gators on the far right side of the bay as I paddled in to the mooring. There was a picnic table and out house, the only thing missing was cable TV. I unloaded my stuff and headed down to the dock. Maybe I was getting a bit cocky being out in the swamps for all of five days and still being alive, but damn it I was going to wash off! I dropped my cloths and stepped into the water. I kept my eye on the far shore to see what Mr. Alligator thought of my foolish idea. As soon as I placed one foot in the water the two gators turned and started to slowly swim towards me, maybe they where a welcoming committee. I did a complete wash off in ten seconds maybe shorter, because I didn’t want to become shorter, not any part of me! I made it back up on the dock and made the choice of leaving the swimming to the gators. Being a fine clear day I decided to try my hand at fishing off the dock. My fishing rod was in the canoe and as I reached in to the vessel for the rod I looked down in the water and saw a twelve foot alligator just laying on the bottom. It looked like a prehistoric monster, with large legs and a larger snout. His back was covered with sharp scaly points that where colored white like the broken oyster shells that lay beside him. This gator was the perfect specimen of camouflage blending into the back ground. I had found a large lure along the mangrove and I came up with even a crazier idea then swimming with the water monsters. Why not hook a gator and see how it feels at the end of my fishing rod. I dropped the lure directly in front of the alligator but because the water was a bit cold his reaction time was just had been slowed down. He would open his big mouth while slowly trying to bite it and at the same time I would try and set the hook with all my might. I missed his big mouth but did get the lure stuck in a over hanging tree branch above my quarry. I thought this could be a blessing in disguise, because why would I want to piss off a gator and I have to be here for two days.<br /><br /> I got into my canoe and paddled up the Rookery Branch River with some serious fishing in mind. I was casting my lure when I caught a Northern Pike, which lives in fresh water. I tested the water and it was fresh water. I must have caught forty Bass and was having a grand time just catching and releasing the fish. I noticed over by the mangroves a fish would come to the surface occasionally. I threw my lure in the exact spot that I had seen the ripples on the water and wham my line went tight. The lure must have hit a nerve because this fish with a attitude came straight for the canoe. I reeled in the line as fast as I could until the rod bent under the boat and the then the line snapped. I didn’t know what I had caught but it was big and mean. I put on another lure and after a few more casts caught another killer fish but this time I was able to land him and it was a Snook. The fish has the reputation of putting up a great fight and they proved it.<br /><br /> As I paddled my way back to camp I could hear talking coming from that direction. A guide with a helper had brought a couple of fisherman into the area to fish for Snook. I told them of my luck with Bass and Snook and that only wetted their appetite. It was getting close to dinner time and I got invited to a cookout with steaks and beers. As soon as the guides helper fired up the stove the raccoons came out like they had heard the dinner bell. As soon as the steaks hit the hot grill the raccoons almost came swinging out of the trees like Tarzan. The raccoons would come up to the cook making snarling noises and showing their teeth in the most menacing way that a creature the size of cat could muster up. This barbecue jockey would get so shook up he would throw pieces of steaks to the raccoons. Then the marauders would carry their prizes back into the cane forests, as they give each other a high five. I didn’t have to show my teeth to get food but I did have to sit on a chair and talk with the group about my trip, which I was glad to do. The two fisherman where more interested in the fish I been catching then where I had been and going. The story of the Snook really got their juices flowing, since they had come all the way from Ohio to catch a few.<br /><br /> After dinner it was still light and I decided to paddle back up the river and see if I could hook a few more fish. I stopped by my picnic table to gather some snacks, as two killer raccoons made their appearance. I guess the snapping teeth worked so well with the cook why not try it on the canoeist. There is a good reason why they call this place Cane Patch and I had found a cane and knew how to use it. The first Raccoon jumped up on the table and did his best impression of a cat size Grizzly Bear. That is until I hit right between the eyes about three times with the cane, then he had the look of disbelief. Him and his partner are probably still trying to figure out why the intimidation didn’t work. <br /><br /> After my animal training I went fishing. As I was paddling along I noticed a feather resting on top of a mangrove bush, just as a wisp of wind picked it up and set it down on the river surface. The second the feather landed a three foot alligator immediately came to the surface and went swimming over to the feather and then sunk below just as fast. I got a crash course on what would happens if I fall in the water<br /><br /> After two days of actually standing and sleeping on solid ground I was paddling to a chickee. I paddled back down the Avocado Creek and then found myself on Shark River which didn’t sound very good for my mojo. At the delta where the Shark River joined the Oyster Bay I did actually see a few sharks and dolphins. They where doing a porpoise type thing when a fish comes out of the water and you just see it’s back. By the time I got to the playground the critters had said adios, which is probably just as well. I arrived at the Oyster Bay chickee with plenty of time to spare and got my fishing gear in it up right and locked position. Since I was back in salt water, I was catching Red Fish, Sea trout and Rock fish. It had been a pretty easy day and I wasn’t complaining.<br /><br /> Since I knew the winds would pick up across the Oyster Bay by 10:00 am I wanted to be past it and on a river system. I was paddling along very nicely, but he wind must have awoken early because a steady wind came out of the south and I was heading right into it. I was paddling as steady as I could and kept on eye on my compass as I headed to Joe River inlet. I couldn’t stop paddling for one second or the wind would turn the front of my canoe right back where I started. By afternoon I coasted into the Joe River and then it was clear paddling since I left the wind to the open bays. The river banks with birds flying around the mangrove was a welcome sight as I kept one eye open for any manatee swimming around.<br /><br /> By dinner time I arrived at South Joe River chickee, my last platform above the gators. On another chickee sat a two fisherman, with fishing poles in hand as they where sitting on white plastic buckets. I paddled over for a little conversation and any advice about my last leg of my trip. As they turned their heads to talk I noticed a white shine on their faces. I also noticed they wore gloves and long sleeve shirts. One of the fellas stood up and opened the white bucket and asked if I wanted any mosquito repellent. They had made up their bug lotion in the five gallon size and it looked a lot like lard. As the fisherman stuck his hand in the bucket and brought out a white dripping mess, that was draining through his fingers he said. “ Are you sure you don’t want any?” The thought of me in my sleeping bag covered with lard was almost to much to stomach. I told them I didn’t have that much trouble with mosquitos up north. “You have entered bug land and the blood suckers down here will carry you into the mangrove as snack!” they said. I paddled back to my chickee and did notice a few mosquitos. By the time I tied up the canoe I couldn’t get into my tent fast enough, as I heard my fisherman friends falling off their bug buckets with laughter. By the time I closed the tent fly I had killed enough mosquitos to fill a shot glass and maybe that’s what I needed instead of lardo bug lotion!<br /><br /> The next morning while it was still too cool for a mosquito not wearing sweater, to make a appearance I paddled down the lower end of Whitewater Bay. On the bay I saw a tourist couple on a party boat and they where out for a few days of sight seeing. I had a ten day beard that would make Big Foot jealous and as I pulled up a long side the boat a woman appeared and then ran back inside. She came back immediately with all kind of fruit and food. She must have thought I had been out here for months or came off a ship wreck. To add to the moment, just for fun I asked her who was president now and O. J. Simpson, was he found guilty?<br /><br /> The Coot Bay would be my last bay as I entered the Buttonwood Canal. Then within a few hours I pulled into the Flamingo ranger station docks. I tied up my canoe and walked up to the ranger station. The ranger had the keys to my car, since my hostel hosts had delivered it with out any problems. I unloaded my gear which weighted a lot less after drinking and eating most of the food.<br /><br /> It was getting late and I still had to drive back to Miami airport to pick up Pam and celebrate for fifth birthday or is it forty ! I just had enough time to call my dad from a pay phone and tell him I had made it. The mosquitos must have been hiding in my pocket, because they almost devoured me as I told him of my adventure. I wouldn’t have changed one thing and what a experience I had!vince vogelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09409914685847755131noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-113513403868397494.post-22093664257860392782010-11-15T13:51:00.000-08:002014-02-07T14:00:02.784-08:00South Coast Trek in Tasmania !This adventure takes place in Tasmania in 2002, after my Franklin River trip on the last blog. On January 11th I awoke to rain, it was a dark and gloomy day for Hobart’s Regatta. Hobart is the southern most city in Tasmania and has the distinction of being the capital. The Regatta is held every year to celebrate Tassie’s love of the sea. Sail boats races will take place where the Derwent River empties her contents into the Tasman Sea. From locals I found out that the Queens’ Domain Gardens, will give me a prestigious viewing point of sails bellowing below my perch. Later that day the Australian Royal Air force jets shadows were streaking across the freshly mowed lawns of the Queens’s Gardens as I strolled into the entrance. My objective was to find a terrific viewing point of all the festivities and a place that had a back and leg support in the way of a park bench.<br /><br /> Two older women were gracious enough to let me share their grand viewing spot. Sunlight began to reflect off the tall masts of the sailboats as the black heavy clouds slowly turned a gravel grey then a snowy white. Holding my travel book, I carefully used it’s edge to wipe the rain water off the bench. All my actions where being observed by my new costumed companions. Attached from their antique hats were long shiny ribbons that waved in the gentle wind, that read Hobart Regatta. Consuming energy from the wind, the thin ribbons were like serpents gently responding to a snake charmers commands, coiling slowly at first around the puffy sleeves and then around the waist of the women’s vintage white dresses. An embroidery of blue sail boats had been sown on the hem line of the decorative dresses, that folded over their silver sequin decorated Nike running shoes. The reflection of the emerging sun off the highly decorated shoes was bouncing off my sunglasses as one women broke the silence. “Local women in vogue, nor my departed husband would approve of our foot ware, but they can all go to the devil, we need comfort dammit!” Mrs Osborn introduced herself and her sister while their sailboat cuff links clicked as their hands caressed each other like a pair of cats on a sunny morning.<br /><br /> I remarked that the sailors on their boat seemed to be doing a great job with the weather conditions not being ideal. As soon as my comment left my mouth, dark stormy clouds formed on Mrs Osborn’s brow. “My son Mad Max, I mean Max, could do a better job of sailing by mistake then these wimps could do on purpose!” Mrs Osborn said. “Just because of a little misunderstanding Max is banished from the Regatta!” she explained. The sister slowly started to tell the story about Mad Max and the banishing. It seems Max and his father were very interested in building a fast yet strong sailing boat. The hours just in the planning not to mention the building of the vessel cut into Max’s time with his new wife. The wife got tired of playing second fiddle to a wooden ship and left for a another sailor that had a bigger boat. During their short time together, Max’s exwife always wanted something a little better then anybody else in town and had ordered a iron figure that resembled herself that would fit on the bow of Max’s new boat. Max had forgotten all about the figure until it was delivered to his boat yard one morning. Being a thoughtful man Max decided to delivery the figure to the his ex and her lover in person. Max carefully tied the figure on the front of his finished sailing boat and with a strong wind behind him headed straight out into the bay. The fifty foot sailboat that held his exwife and her new love was not hard to spot as it bobbed with the waves. Max with the wind as his power source made a sharp turn and with a sickening sound of snapping wood plowed straight into the love birds boat. The iron figure attached to the bow saved Max’s boat from much damage and the figure stayed on his exwive’s boat as he backed away. Max claimed it was all a innocent accident and only meant to deliver the figure, but he as banned from the Regatta none the less besides getting the name Mad Max. “Where is Max hanging his sailor hat now?” I asked. “He should be in Hawaii with a girl on each arm!”said Mrs Osborn.<br /><br /> After some more conversation I found out that Max was really walking the South Coast Track, in Tasmania with a group of friends, since he likes to be out of town during the Regatta. I told of my plans on walking that trek starting next week, as I opened my travel book to that section. “What you need to know about the South Coast isn’t in any fancy travel book sonny boy!” explained Mrs Osborn “My late husband and I use to take Max on long trips into the South Coast, when we where all younger.” she said. With great excitement she explain about some of the unpleasant situations I might encounter. It’s a 82 kilometers hike from Cockle Bay to a small airfield at Melaleuca, which was made for servicing an old tin mine. Along the way I would crawl through mud bogs, that had poisonous Tiger snakes guarding the path. The cold windy weather on the Ironbound Mountain can be darn right dangerous, if you’re caught out in it. I also found out that Max had flown into Melaleuca and was walking back towards Cockle Bay. I had plans on walking in the opposite direction, so maybe I would meet this famous pirate of Hobart. “Mrs Osborn if I happen to meet Max on the trail do you have any messages.” I asked. Without hesitation she gave me a message for her misunderstood son.<br /><br /> The morning sun was beginning to illuminate Macquarie Street, as I sat with my back against the Metro Bus building. In my back pocket I had a ticket for Cockle Bay on the 7:15 a.m. bus. I had heard so many unsolicited plights about the South Coast that they were ricocheting around my brain. The most common theme of these stories were poisonous snakes. Three types of snakes on Tassie are hazardous to your health. A hiker last year tried to kill a Tiger Snake and ended up finding out why they call them Tigers. Another great story going around was about a hiker that got turned around in the thick bush and was lost for a month or two. Last but not least was the story about the trail being so muddy. Some of the mud holes are so deep, while your wading through them all that is sticking out of the mud is your hat.<br /><br /> *The anticipation of the destination is only escalated by the adventure of the journey! After boarding the bus I noticed an older gentleman with a wind burnt complexion was tapping his walking stick on the metal floor of our bus to the tempo of a Irish jig. A small leather knapsack breaching with books was his only companion on the seat. This leprechaun of a man noticed me in the reflection of the bus window, as my eyes looked into his. “Your pack has the look of an extended holiday.” he said. “Yes I said, I’ll be trekking for eight days along the South Coast.” “My needs are very small, they resemble my pack.” said the man. Holding a book the fella explained. “I just popped on to Tassie for a couple months from Ireland to entertain the church members with a few songs at assorted Catholic churches.” “These hymn books are all that I need to carry, from them I can produce food, drink and shelter from the kind church patrons. “This proves that the book is mightier than the back pack.” he laughed. Our bus turned into Hunonville as my friend had turned his head that was decorated with a big smile and pointed to the church steeple, which would be his meal ticket. “Lets have a Guinness on me, then sing a few songs and chuck your pack for the night!” he explained. “Thanks for the offer but I bought a ticket to Cockle Creek.” I explained. As a closing remark I exclaimed that it was nice that the Irish seemed to be living together in peace. At that suggestion his bushy eyebrows rose up and down like caterpillars doing the hookie pokie. “For the life of me I can’t figure why God made mosquito, Satan and Protestants!” he exclaimed as the bus doors closed.* In our travels thru life we are never really alone, we pick up little pieces of our friends souls that travel with us.<br /><br /> At the next stop Tony our bus driver announced a fifteen minute break as the station master set a small Styrofoam container next to his seat. Due to the island’s small size or just by chance, Tony had been my bus driver on a few of my trips around the island, so I got to know him. He had the unnerving habit of turning his head to talk to a passenger sitting behind him, as the bus barreled down the narrow winding roads. It would just about take your breath away as we had more then just a few close calls with sheep, bicycles and on coming buses. The Styrofoam container made a squeaking noise as Tony pulled it towards himself. “Did one of your girlfriends make you lunch?” I asked. “This would be a grand lunch for a vampire!” Tony said as he held up a small container of blood. Tony explained that a local scientist was studying the breeding habits of the Tasmania Devil. Tony would deliver the blood to Hobart where a scientist would study the DNA of the South Coast Devil. The woman scientist in this area with the help of DNA, found out that a female devil will be impregnated by as many as five males in one night. Some of the males will travel as far as ten miles for this one night stand. <br /><br /> After our fifteen minute break Tony fired up the bus with puff of black smoke as the signal for everyone to come aboard. An older woman with the looks of being a feral hippy came running up to the open bus door and asked Tony if this bus went to Cockle Bay. Her long hair and sun baked complexion gave some indication about the amount of time spent walking a beach figuring out the universe. All the passengers on the bus where looking out the windows at this poor woman struggling with her large back pack. So with compassion in my heart I jumped from the bus and grabbed hold of her belongs and was going to help her with the burden. She immediately pulled her back pack from hand and yelled “Who died and put you in charge!” as she stormed towards the bus. I think this woman did spend some time on the beach but it was at Camp Pendleton Marine base learning to kill with a sharp tongue! “This bloody woman could make Tasmania Devil’s seem like lap dogs!” Tony said with a smirk as I passed by him. The smirk soon disappeared from his face when the woman from hell, zeroed in on his world. “Why in everything that is holy, didn’t the three other busses that zoomed by me this morning didn’t stop?” yelled the hippy girl. “Because I am the only bus scheduled to stop here.” Tony explained. “Likely story, likely story, well what are we waiting for now, lets get going so we can get there today!” she said with a sigh.<br /><br /> The next stop was Dover and a back packer was waving his arm like a windmill and yelling for Tony to stop. Tony pulled up and immediately the young hiker jumped on board. <br />“I am so glad you stopped three busses have passed me by this morning!” said the young fella. The hippy lady jumped right into the conversation. “What did I say, what did I say, the buses passed us by like we where trash along the road!” she said. I heard Tony say under his breath, “It a good thing that the company doesn’t let us drink on the job, I could use a pint or two!” Tony shifted the bus into high gear and off we went, I had a feeling we were all going to pay for these two jokers that we just picked up.<br /><br /> The young back packer had a Australia accent but looked Chinese. As we hung onto anything nailed down as the bus turned into a sky rocket as it hit every pot hole and rough road it could, my traveling companion told of his life. He was born in China but was adopted by a English couple staying in Australia in the northern part of that country. The new baby didn’t fit in to the country club scene of the English couple’s life style. As a consequence this poor fella ended up spending more time with the Aboriginal servants that managed the home, then his adopted parents. The last straw was when the English couple got transferred back to Jolly Old England. They took the family pets but he was left with the cook’s family and was brought up in a Aboriginal household. “ I can’t eat with chopsticks but I can play a mean didjeridu mate!” he explained. * True love has all the energy, understanding and tolerance is the fuel!<br /><br /> As we entered the last twenty miles before Cockle Creek the bus was followed by a thick plume of dust from the dirt road. A heavy timbered wooden bridge was our last obstacle was we came to a stop at the ranger station at Cockle Creek. “End of the line boys and girls, it’s not the end of the world but you can see it from here!” said Tony. The Aussie Chinese hiker and the devil woman couldn’t get off the bus fast enough. Both of them tried to go through the bus door opening at the same time wearing their packs. I wanted to laugh but I didn’t want to have the hippy woman turn her wrath towards me again. As I sat down next to Cockle Creek and got ready to eat my lunch I heard the ranger station screen door slam twice and then again when my two traveling companions left the station with their permits. Tony at the same time was doing his best get the hell out of here by shifting through all four gears as he rolled down the dirt road. I had taken off my shoes and was enjoying the cool water of the creek caressing my toes when the two hikers doing a imitation of Grouch Marx all bent over and their little legs pumping came flying by me heading towards the trail.<br /><br /> While the ranger stamped my pass, I noticed the afternoon sun beaming down on artifacts, found along the South Coast. As I picked up each item the ranger would explain it’s meaning, either from boredom or wanting someone to talk to in this out of the way place. A large transparent snake skin that had been shed from a reptile was the topic of conversation. “Do you think I’ll see many snakes?” I asked. “Just when you least expect it, that’s when the buggers will be laying on your path or theirs according to their point of view!” he explained. “The most common snake you’ll encounter in the bush is the King Snake and the best thing to do is absolutely nothing!” the ranger explained. <br />“All three snakes in Tassie are venomous but Mr. King is the most aggressive especially during mating season!” said the ranger of doom. <br />“Let me guess, it’s mating season now?” I asked. “What did you hear the heavy breathing in the brush as you ate lunch?” asked the ranger. Between Tasmania Devils and the King Snake doing it in the grass all this place needs a drive in movie screen, I thought! “I found out in Hobart that besides the killer snakes there are large bogs to cross, if I don’t get lost first, is that correct?” I asked. “You’re first mistake was staying in Hobart but your information is correct.” the ranger said. “I was born in Hobart but since I have this job I stay clear of that town.” said the ranger. “My whole family lived in Hobart and my dad worked at the hospital.” said the ranger. “Was he a doctor?” I asked. <br />“My brother and myself always wondered what poor old dad did at the hospital so one day we sneaked into the hospital.” said the ranger. “My dad must have got wind of our plot because when we entered his office he had his head bent over his desk, with a tooth pick in one hand.” reply the ranger. “My older brother got the courage to get up close to dad and just stared down at the desk blotter covered with black pepper.” said the ranger. “Bloody hell dad what are doing” asked the brother. “ I am doing my usual job of separating the pepper from the fly shit, I am in public relations!” said my dad. <br /><br /> As I left the office the ranger warned again about not playing with the snakes, “They are twice as fast as you ever thought of being.”<br />*Don’t let possible storms in the future, cloud your dreams in the present!”<br /><br /> The trail began like most trails do when there is a lot of local foot traffic. Wide trails with numerous signs and manicured forests beside the paths, that would lead deeper into the unknown. As I left the forest, a kangaroo with a roo on board hopped ahead of me and what nice welcoming party it was. It made a deep thud sounds each time the critters paws hit and bounced along the ground. As both of us entered the marsh, the kangaroo had the option of turning back and hiding in the forest. A moor like setting that reminded me of Scotland, seemed to carry on for miles across the landscape in front of me. Two parallel boards had been laid down on top of the swampy marsh to keep the hiker from sinking up to their elbows. The boards went on for miles, until the rangers ran out of lumber or energy or both. Then the famous muddy bogs started, I couldn’t find much relief if I tried to walk over the brush beside the trail. It was tough like barb wire covered with leaves and just as sharp. Relief came when I came to a rise and it was a sand dune covered with grass lead to a large beach that when on for miles . The waves where coming onto the beach in three foot high breakers and then would disappear into the sand.<br /><br /> I came to the South Cape Rivulet just about the same time that I was needing a place to camp. The water was a deep brown from all the tannins in the water. I couple of people where camped out on this side of the river but I didn’t want to have to cross it tomorrow so it would be easier to get it over with now. I had been wearing rubber sandals so all I had to do was cross the river very carefully so I wouldn’t become part of it. I made it across and found some level spots that had several inches of mulch that would make a soft bedding for my tent. After eating dinner a couple came to the far rivers edge and ask if I wanted to come over for a night cap. I asked if they were the activity directors for the beach, with a laugh. The drinks where nice and the conversation went on into the night. I spent to much time looking at the bottom of a tipped beer bottle and forgot that I had to cross back over the black river at night. A couple of times as I crossed I would walk into a hole that put the water level close to waist line. There was a few hairy moments but I made it back and after looking inside my tents for snakes I fell asleep.<br /><br /> This morning I started the section that everyone and his dog had warned me about from Rivulet to Granite Beach that was covered with muddy swimming pools and decorated with King Snakes. I have hiked around the world enough that sometimes people embellish the hardships a bit beyond the real world. But in this case it was all correct besides a few extra treats. I had just kept my Teva’s sandals on since I didn’t want to completely ruin my hiking boots with the mud, hopefully the snakes would cut me some slack. My first muddy bog was actually a giant mud puddle that was going up hill, so it was combination climbing and swimming in mud. As a added attraction at no extra cost except for me losing my religion, where marsh flies. These pest where the size of your thumb nail but flew as fast as a HMO paying for your wife’s breast enlargement. They just buzzed around your head or exposed legs waiting for the right time to come in for a snack. If your lucky enough to catch one in your hand, it sounds like your squeezing a piece of popcorn. I found a log running up beside the bog and decided to walk and crawl along the log. I should have stayed with the crawl because when I stood up my sandals where covered with mud and my legs kicked out and I came down straddling the log with full force. Now I know how Pee Wee Herman got that high pitched voice. I made it to the top of the mountain and was just ready to celebrate when I glanced down to a sunny spot on the trail that was covered in King Snake. I have seen a lot of snakes in the states and they are usually very motivated to get the hell out of your way. Not Mr. King, I guess it’s good to be king, I’ll move when I jolly well feel like moving and not before. I stamped my feet and he looked over his shoulder if he had one and slowly slide into the brush off the trail. Well I thought at least I didn’t get bit and die a horrible death, that could ruin your day!<br /><br /> After lunch and thinking that maybe I was through the worse of the mud traps, I got a little snap in my step. Then ahead lay miles of mud puddles, maybe thirty feet long and deep as the bottom of my back pack. Each one was exactly like the last, there was a muddy ramp that you walked down into a waist deep watery muddy hole. The water was so dark and deep if I would have walk across Jimmy Hoffa, I wouldn’t have been surprised. Branches along these traps had been snapped off from past hikers trying to hold onto anything that was stable.<br /><br /> After ten hours of walking and crawling I came to a camp spot that had a few campers already spread out. The campers made me feel at home which was nice since my temper from fighting mud and flies needed it’s temperature lowered. The campers told me of a waterfall that was below the camp. “I don’t think there are any ladies there now, so it’s safe to bath!” said the one camper. I didn’t care at this point if Queen Elizabeth herself was there I was headed to the waterfall shower. I was covered with mud, so I just stepped into the shower with all my muddy cloths and sandals on. Now I know what a corn dog feels like, being covered with batter. Then I stripped naked and stood under the waterfall for another fifteen minutes, what a relief!<br /><br /> When I made it back to camp another group had come from Melaleuca. I started to unload my backpack and set up my site, when I noticed one of the hikers. He started to swat at real marsh flies and imaginary marsh flies that had been buzzing around his head for hours. He fell to the ground with a thud and just started to moan and hid under his pack from the pesky critters. We all stood around in a little bit of disbelieve but also wondering if this is how we would end up. <br /><br /> After dinner I walked to another part of the camping area and asked if anybody knew Max Osborn. “Over here!” yelled a camper. I went on to explain about meeting his mother and aunt at the Regatta. “By the way I have a message from dear old mom.” I said. “Don’t wipe your snotty nose on your sleeve!” I relayed to Max. At the same time Max wiped his nose and said “You mean like this!” Standing beside Max was his girlfriend which said. “We can’t get away from that woman!” she said with a sigh.<br /><br /> This morning I would head to Surprise Beach, which in everybody’s description was the next best thing to heaven. The marsh flies had the job of guarding the sandy beaches as I walked across them. After I disturbed their slumber on the beach the flies would fly pattern around my body, like a airplane circling a airport. I had a extra shirt in my hand and would swipe it back and forth like I was a cow with a two foot long tail, to keep the pests from feasting on my flesh. The trail was suppose to be a 10 hour hike over and through large and messy mud bogs. With a large supply of snakes guarding their sunny spots on the trail.<br /><br /> By dinner time I could hear the ocean pounding against Surprise Bay, my home for a couple days. It was picture perfect with a lush jungle and fast moving river pouring into the beach. The beach must have been a half of mile long with a rocky out cropping starting and stopping the beach line. The trail that lead down to the beach was very steep with a rope attached at the top for a secure hold. Log steps had been anchored into the trail as a extra support. The thought of staying on this beach for two days without having to fight mud and snakes made for a almost religious moment. The sunset on the beach was the icing on the cake for my coast trek. <br /><br /> The next day I woke to a clear and sunny day with warm winds from the jungle meeting cold winds from the ocean breezes and making small wind cyclones of loose sand. The ocean was so inviting but I knew that it could have a seductive spirit. The ocean currents had been cooled by icebergs from the Antarctica only moments ago. I decided to take my chances in the river, I felt like a penguin when I made my leap of faith and hit the water. I half expected there to be a layer of ice on the surface, judging from the water temperature. As soon as I got my breath back I swam back to shore like a Olympic swimmer. I felt like a lizard in sun as I tried to get warmth back into my body, as I lay on the beach. <br /><br /> As I lay on the beach a couple of Eco rangers girls came walking by looking for a campsite down by the river. They where also looking for Phytophthora cinnamomi which turned out to be foot rot, which I thought I might have after walking through muddy water. The disease affects plants that grow in wet conditions, which is everywhere one looks. The fungi attacks the roots and kills the plant. Anyway, they where on the lookout for this killer of young and innocent plants, plus it was a excuse to get out and camp. After setting up their camp one of the women walked along the beach to the rocky point as the ocean watched her every move. Just as she turned her back a big wave engulfed her and threw down on the rocks. She came back to camp with the bloody elbows to prove it. As we sat around and watched the one woman bandage up her arm, I was told the story of the South Coast Trail. In the 1800's so many ships floundered off the Tassie cost because of the crazy ass weather off Antarctic that a path was cut in the territory to help stranded sailors walk to freedom.<br /><br /> After dinner I walked down to the beach to watch the sun go down on another day of beach combing. As the day light started to fade I noticed a group of five hikers come out of the forest on the far side of the beach. They seemed to be wondering around aimlessly. I had a flash light and shined it in their direction and turned it off and on as a signal. I noticed the group had regrouped and started to walk towards me. There was a big smiles on all their faces, they had been hiking for twelve hours and had missed a trail turn off to Osmiridium Beach. One fella that was so completely worn down to a nub that he just dropped to the beach and feel asleep. The rest of the group walked up the trail to the camp sites and set up their tents and then fell asleep. <br /><br /> The next morning I again would be on the muddy trail to Osmiridium Beach. I had heard stories about the difficulty in finding the trail down to the beach off the main trail. After several hours of fighting my way through the bush I came to a large flat area covered with the barb wire bushes. The turn off to the beach was easy to find because two younger hikers where laying along the trail head acting like markers. First I heard the moaning and gut wrenching noises way before I saw the victims. These poor fellas had been desperate for water this morning and had drank water out of a watering hole used by kangaroos and wombats that didn’t have the best bathroom manners. As a result these back country adventures had their trip into paradise turn into a hospital trip. Thankfully for me as we talked I saw a trickle of water coming out of the hillside that ran down to the water hole from hell. I filled up my water container here for my two days that I was going to spend on the beach. I didn’t have a helicopter in back pack so there wasn’t much more I could do for these poor victims except step over them. <br /><br /> The trail down to the beach was faint and gnarly, with a few side trail that lead to no wheresville. I eventually found a group of trees and a few old campsites. I thought this must be the promised land so I set up camp and walked down to the mile long beach. I had the beach all to myself for two days. I would walk the beach and search the little inlets and rock out cropping for discarded trash from the sea. I had quite the collection which I turned into beach art, to bad their wasn’t anybody to enjoy it, or maybe it was better no critics showed up. I felt like Robinson Crusoe as some of my art work had turned into a giant mobiles on top of a few sand dunes and blew around in the wind.<br /><br /> After lunch I was sitting along a dry river bed that was a hundred feet from the crashing ocean. I had been reading a Stephen King and really getting into the blood and gore when I looked up and sat a wall of water coming towards me from the ocean. The ranger at the check in point warned me about not keeping my eye on the unpredictable ocean breakers and here it came. I grabbed all my belongings and headed to high ground just in time. Then the water retreated never to show it force again. The surge had been so strong that it had gone all the way to the pond where my dead and dying hiking companions had drank from. So beside drinking kangaroo ka ka they drank salt water mixed with it like a chaser.<br /><br /> Before I left the beach I arranged a pile of large flat stones to spell welcome in the beach, but it should have said don’t drink the water!<br /><br /> The next morning was going to be more of the mud puppy walking and snake dodging. The map informed me my next stop would be Deadman’s Bay which sounded encouraging. I thought my last place should be called Deadman’s Pond. The snakes on this part of the trail where on the right of me and on the left. I knew the encounters where going to happen you just didn’t knew when. Typically I would be day dreaming about little or nothing when there would be a speck of sunlight on the trail like a spot light. The King Snake would be curled up in the beam of light. I would think, I hope he got all his mating duties out of his system and he is mellow yellow. Sometimes I would stamp my feet so that the snake would open it’s one eye and then the other one. You could tell the snake was thinking, I am in charge and don’t rush me off the path, or I am going to change your life. I met a doctor that did a lot of fishing along the rivers in Tassie and he always wore high gater to protect is legs from the venomous snakes. He also whistled or sang out load, just to make himself feel better, since he knew snakes can’t hear.<br /><br /> After lunch the trail disappeared into a river that ran into the raging ocean waves. The trail was in the middle of the river with poles sunk into the river bottom and marked with orange plastic tags. Every once in a while the ocean would make itself noticed and come rushing up the river. The green thick algae that was floating on the river would then be lifted and cover your legs and bottom of your pack with green slim. Then I entered the New River delta which was a ½ mile across. A genius had figured this river crossing puzzle out. There was two boats, one on each side of the river bank. I would have to row across the river and drop my pack but then hook up the other boat and bring it back to where I started. I would drop this boat and then go back over to where my pack was. That way there would always be a boat on each side. Have you payed attention there’s a test at the end. A couple that where doing the same hike where studying the whole situation when I walked up. We decided to do our portage together. Lori was from Quebec Canada and Trent was from Australia. They had met in school and where doing a trip together. The portage went off without a hitch and we where all on our way.<br /><br /> By dinner time I had reached Deadman’s Bay without finding anything in the way of a corpse. Except when I was eating dinner a hiker came out of the jungle covered with scratches and mud. “Is this trail someone’s idea of sick joke!” he yelled. He had been walking for 10 hours and was hungry and thirsty besides being dead tired. He described the hike over the Ironbound Mountains and it didn’t sound like loads of fun with what he related as five hours of stair master with a side order of mud bogs. <br /><br /> Tomorrow is another day according to Scarlett O’hara and it came as a clear morning, after it had rained all night. Trent, Lori and I started off to make our way over the 2,700 feet in elevation gain of the Ironbound Mountains, that was covered with tree roots and mud. Since they where half my age, they wanted to go ahead of me a so I wouldn’t hold them up. Half way up the mountain I found both of them along the trail rubbing and holding their knees with a sick look on their faces from the continuous steps. I continued on and turned to take a picture of the beach below. Within a matter of seconds the weather turned faster then you can snap your fingers. You can’t see Antarctic from here but we got it’s fury! There was big sign at the beginning of the trail “This is the most dangerous spot in Tasmania when the weather changes, you can die in several different ways, all of them not good!” when I passed the sign the temperature was nice with a cool breeze in my hair, now it was hurricane force with thick fog. My two hike companions had just caught up with me when the sound of thunder could be heard. I had just said we had better find some shelter, when lightning hit on the hill above us. Just the moment before that they had said, “Don’t worry!” Now all of us fighting our way into the cave shelter I found. After about twenty minutes of steady rain it then turned into drizzle with heavy fog. We climbed out of our shelter and I heard talking ahead of us. A small group of hikers where standing on the trail, looking around in a dazed state. It was so foggy I stood up close and couldn’t make out one person’s face, I could just hear questions. I found out that the weather had been bad in the direction that we where heading, for several days. After exchanging advice we said our good byes and worked our way down to Louisa River.<br /><br /> After clearing the summit thunder could be heard off in the distance but because of the fog I couldn’t see the lightning. Then within thirty minutes the skies cleared and we could see the whole river system and it looked like it was in flood stage. I kept walking with the idea of getting to camp before the next storm came and really ruined my day. I was able to set up my camp within a eye shot of the river which was kicking up a ruckus as it rambled down the river bed. I noticed a lean-to type shelter and two fella’s outside of it, just starring at the river. I walked into their camp and found out these two friends Mick and John where from Melbourne Australia. Mick was on vacation from the police force and John was on permanent vacation after buying the right lottery ticket. They also had two other friend with them named Johnny Walker Red and Jack Daniels which they truly seem to love. Mick’s plan of action was to mix the two liquors that then resembled a mixture that you might put in your car gas tank. This afternoon and most of the night called for them to consume as much of the mixture as possible, so they wouldn’t have to carry the extra weight over the mountain. They tried to get me to join in the fools game but I had no plans to have my head explode tomorrow morning, thank you very much. As I told them about the muddy trail that lay ahead of them as the walk towards Cockle Bay the more they drank. Then John brought up the subject of joke telling and by this time they where pretty well hammered. John then stood up and made the announcement that he was going to show and tell us the correct way of telling a joke. I can’t remember the joke but the body language was the funniest thing I had every seen and the more that Mick and I laughed, the more John did more twists and bends with his lubricated body. By the end of his story he lost his balance and when over backwards and slid down to the rivers edge and the top of his head was in the river. I thought I was going to wet my pants, especially as Mick and I tried to bring John rubbery body back up the hill.<br /><br /> The next morning the skies didn’t show a lot of promise in the way of a dry crossing to the next beach campsite. Mick and John’s party site was very quiet as I walked by, I could only hear their throbbing heads! Right away I came to the Louisa River and I had to cross the river, that was in flood stage. Someone had strung a thick rope across the river for support as you waded across the river. Trent and Lori where already at the river crossing. Trent had his arms and legs wrapped around the rope while wearing his pack and he was trying to slide along the rope. There was a raging river going over giant boulders below this plan of attack. Trent hung about two feet above rocks of death and this seemed like a good way to break your back if the rope broke. I told them it didn’t seem like the way to solve this problem as I took off my boots and slipped on my sandals. I slowly made my way through the slippery boulders while holding onto the rope. On the far side the jungle was soaked from the rain storm that lasted all night long. I thought I was walking through a car wash as long stemmed plants dripping with water slapped me along the sides of my body. At the first sign of rain I put on a cover over my pack and then I put on a rain coat and then I covered everything with a orange tarp, I looked like a giant pumpkin walking over the moors. The famous Roaring Forties wind storm was beginning to make itself known. This is a weather pattern that comes of the Tasman Sea that is hurricane force. When ever I came to the top of a hill I had to lay flat on the ground not to be blown over by the micro burst of wind. Then to add to the fun I came to a river that luckily someone with a axe had cut down a tree that spanned the river. The tree still had all it’s thousand and one branches on and I had to crawl through the branches without falling into the roaring river below. Within fifteen minutes I came to another river crossing with the same type of tree bridge. I felt like Daniel Boone all I needed was waterproof coon skin cap.<br /><br /> I could see the bay at Cox Bight and I could hear the breaker smashing against the rock wall that made up the shore line. At the crossing stood another sign”Wait at least fifteen minutes before crossing next to the rock wall incase the tide is coming in and it sweeps you out into the ocean!” Five minutes seemed like fifteen minutes with a hurricane force wind while a driving rain is trying to rearrange my cloths. It looked like the beach was about 1/8 of mile long so I guess it’s time for the Great Pumpkin to turn into Jesse Owens. I took a deep breath and made a mad dash for the distance beach and freedom. I made the beach just as the high water was lapping my knees. I had planned on camping here but the cold rain with the wind changed my mind, I couldn’t have set up my tent if my life depended on it.<br /><br /> The airfield at Melaleuca with a dry shelter in the way of steel huts seemed like the way to escape this torture. It would be a four hour walk and it was already four o’clock, but I had everything to gain if I could reach the huts. I had already been walking eight hours so what was few more hours. The trail again turned into muddy bogs and wooden planks had been laid on the swampy bogs for miles on end but the water still was ankle deep. By eight o’clock I could see the huts. The first hut I stopped at was full of hikers and they explained there was another shelter in the next grove of trees as they closed the door. I walked into the next hut and seven fellas sat at a long table eating steaming food and didn’t hardly look up even though my outfit looked like I had survived a atomic bomb. They didn’t ask about the weather or my walk, I thought it was a monk convention. I asked about the schedule of the next airplane and this hit a nerve. “We have been waiting two days for a plane and we get it first!” came the response from the crowd. Now I figured out what had upset my bunk mates they thought I was going to steal their plane. “I have two day of food so don’t worry your pretty little heads, I’ll wait my turn!” I exclaimed. Then all was right with the world, cheese, pasta and beer was brought forth and questions were asked and answered.<br /><br /><br /> Someone asked me if I ever got lonely on any of these trips, and this was the only time I felt lonely when I was with people but they wouldn’t talk!<br /><br /> When I started to unload my pack, I noticed rain had been driven through the pack cover and through the tarp that I had covering the whole thing. Luckily for me I had my sleeping bag and cloths in a plastic bag so all was dry. Within a hour Trent and Lori showed up and where glad to find a dry bed. I was short on gas for my stove and there must have been fifty gas canisters since airplane passengers can’t carry gas on a plane so hikers drop them here. We all made dinner and talked about the day.<br /><br /><br /> The next morning we where all up and the skies actually looked clear. A French hiker that had twisted both ankles was wobbling around the hut. The all of a sudden everybody stopped talking and started to listen to the sound of a small plane flying towards the air field. Everybody had the look of being rescued from a dangerous place after months of being stranded rather then just two days. The French men found new strength as he grabbed his back pack and items where falling out of it as he scrambled towards the field. As I ate my breakfast I just looked out the window as these poor men ran towards the air field. As I walked down the same path I found shoes, sleeping bags and clothing that had dropped from open packs in the mad dash to freedom. I use to run a hunting and fishing camp in Quebec Canada and use to help pack bush plane. I just walked up to the plane as everybody else just stood back and watched. I started to hand the pilot some gear as he packed with it’s weight in mind. “You’ll be back in few hours right?” I asked. “You bet I will and you can have a front seat.” he said. With in few minutes the plane took off and I walked back to the hut and got all my gear ready. Trent, Lori and I walked down to the fielded when we could hear the plane coming back. I picked up a small stick to act like a make believe microphone as I starred at the plane and like out of a movie I started to yell,”PULL UP-PULL UP!” just joking around. Then I looked around and Trent was snow white. “That would really funny if I wasn’t deathly afraid to fly!” he said. <br /><br /> The pilot looked at me and said I guess you weigh about 190 pounds so it should be OK with all our gear. I weighed 190 in junior high now it’s closer to 250 but I didn’t want to say anything incase I would have to walk all the way back to Hobart. <br /><br /> The eight days of walking through mud and snakes was reduced to a hour plane ride back to Hobart. I had great time and wonderful thoughts of the South Coast Trek, but I realize it maybe isn’t for everybody!vince vogelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09409914685847755131noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-113513403868397494.post-88257789810237712232010-11-06T08:57:00.000-07:002014-02-07T14:00:02.866-08:00Titililating Tales of TasmaniaThis adventure story is from my two month trip to Tasmania in 2002, which you might have guessed since it’s in the title! “Da” Not that long ago, considering I was born the same year that water was discovered!<br /><br /> Where is Tasmania and what is Tasmania? South of the unexplored and north of the unexploited. Geographically speaking, place your buttock towards Crocodile Dundeville and look towards the Antarctica. Five hundred miles south of the main land of Australia lies the largely unexplored island of Tasmania, which is affectionately known as Tassie.<br /><br /> Where do adventures start? My Tassie travels were born in a used book store with a box marked, books 50% off. I was intrigued with this half priced travel companion’s table of content. The South Coast Track, a ten day trek with magnificent beaches and dreadful weather. The Freycinet National Park known for Wineglass Bay and fine weather. The Franklin River is Tassie’s largest and most sensational river that only recently had been explored. It is known to have a wild side and with hazardous rafting. The weather can be both dreadful and fine at the drop of a life jacket in the river gorges!<br /><br /> Since I would be on the island for two months I wanted to experience all three of the adventures, but first I would do the Franklin River. I figured if I got killed right away it would save time and money in the long run. Tall tales that my newly purchased book had filled my risk starved entity with fuel for endless daydreams. The Franklin River, part of the Western Tasmania World Heritage Area, would be my main course, on this smorgasbord of adventures. Eight days of traversing deep gorges, only accessible by kayak and rafts by a guided travel service, promised to welcome me to Tassie’s back country! E mail addresses and foreign looking phone numbers from a country half way around the world, would prove to be a major stumbling block, before I even got started. Let’s face it, most people, especially long distance operators, don’t have a clue where Tasmania floats in the ocean. Repeated unanswered e mails from a lover is annoying but one from a adventure travel company is totally inexcusable when a grand adventure lies before me! I was wasting valuable daydreaming time, without a confirmation from the raft company. For $7.50 you can buy a Starbuck double latte or get brow beaten by some button pushing telephone operator, who has access to any phone number in the world for a price. After convincing the gum chewing operator that Tasmania was part of the world, I acquired the phone number of the travel agency. With a push of a few buttons on my phone I reached Tassie and made contact with a real live Tasinate. It was all worth the hassle because there was room on the raft and we would leave Hobart on January 10th. The travel agent described a physically demanding river trip with class four and five rapids for eight days. After the trip starts there is no turning back, come hell or high water. I told the agent to order me a large body bag and save me a spot on the raft with a warm seat and a river view, I was committed. <br /><br /> After flying for a zillion hours from LA to Sydney Australia, I could have gotten a straight flight to Hobart Tasmania, but that would be to easy. I wanted to fly along the surface of the ocean in a hydrofoil called the Devil Cat from the main land to Tassie. Just the name Devil Cat gave me goose bumps! The Devil Cat purrs over the Tasmania Sea from Melbourne to the Tassie coast for a distance of 429 km. Painted black from stem to stern, and with a shape that remained me of Moby Dick, I wondered if Captain Ahab was on board sharping a harpoon or two. I boarded the Cat and noticed the large distance between all the tables in the dining room. As we backed away from the dock one of the sailors on board mentioned that the Devil Cat could metamorphosis itself into a bucking bronco if we hit waves of 3 feet. As luck would have it the seas turned into 3 foot waves as soon as we pulled away from the dock. All the little cowboys and cowgirls on board that weren’t use to riding a bucking bronco had all turned a shade of green. I walked into the dining room with a idea of having lunch and it looked like the scene from Gone with the Wind when all those rebel soldiers are laying in the train station in Atlanta. I found out why there was so much space between the tables, it was to lay down the sick and dying from sea sickness. The waiters had turned into nurses with cold wet napkins for the patients foreheads. There was moaning going on just like in the movie and I half expected Scarlett to make appearance. I had to step over quite a few casualties in order to get my lasagna lunch served at the counter. I tried to be nice and ask if anybody wanted to share my lunch as they lay on the carpet but I didn’t have any takers. One fella thought he might die and then he was afraid he wouldn’t as his skin color turned from green to grey in color, after I made the offering. The crew mopping the floors weren’t the only ones glad to see the stable coast of Tasmania. <br /><br /> I walked into my hostel in Hobart and noticed two fellas on both sides of the door, like two stone lions guarding a grand building. Their plan didn’t call for much guarding, it was mostly to check out the female travelers as they arrived. After the proper introductions, the thirty something year old sheep shearer told me that cold fusion must have been invented right here on this door step. An invisible cold wave must be surrounding the door frame was his theory. As he scratched his head he explained the women all seem very warm and friendly when they ask him if this is the hostel but when they enter the dwelling they turn frigid. I speculated the frequency of his scheduled baths between sheep shearing and wind direction were also factors to be considered in his hypothesis.<br /><br /> Our rafting group that was going to take on the Franklin River was to rendezvous at a sporting goods store in downtown Hobart tonight. I nervously awaited the opportunity to meet my nine co-paddlers. Picture meeting nine blind dates in a sporting goods store and a commitment that would last for eight days. I started to whistle the song from the spaghetti western the Good the Bad and the Ugly as I walked down Hobart’s main street. The group represented all walks of life but all called the main land of Australia home, I was the only gringo. John and Jill were both doctors. The newlyweds were Don and Donnie, what a way to start a marriage, besides the cute names. Peter and Tom’s striking resemblances to each other confirmed a father and son team. The carefree acting Tony was single. Our guides Bruce and Kate that happened to be consultants on the Survivor series and had dealt with the Franklin River many times in the past. Bruce didn’t paint rose garden picture image of the raft trip as we sat around a dried food display case. Last month Bruce had guided a group down the Franklin and it rained eight days straight. Mud and mildew consumed the sleeping bags, they also endured bone shilling temperatures and strong winds blew the rafts around when they weren’t going over death defying rapids. I raised my arm and ask if I could call my exwife and explain our trip, my horrible misery and certain death would make her day, maybe the whole year a bit brighter for her!<br /><br /> The next morning our rafting group meet at a parking lot where our bus was hooked to a trailer that was piled high with rafts with all the items we would need to survive for eight days. The road trip to the river of no return would take three hours, which would be a good time for each one us to tell about their experience rafting and anything connected to the water. The combined experience of the doctors equaled zero. From the expression on the newly weds faces it was a surprise to found out for them and us that they each had very little experience in fast water. The father and son combo had mostly been spending time on the beach looking at the babies and hanging onto a surf board. The single fella named Tony had done some paddling in a kayak in the Northern Territory of Australia. I had been on half a dozen trips and have had the sensation of having the swift river currents treat you like a mouse being flushed down a toilet. <br /><br /> The three hours of driving zoomed by and we unloaded at the Collinswood River, which would lead us to the mighty Franklin River. We laid out the deflated yellow rafts on the river’s edge and as water lapped our heals, each one of us took turns using hand pump to inflate our rafts. Then came the chore of loading food barrels, tarps, and water tight bags that held our cloths and sleeping bags. This brought back memories as I remembered we would have to do this everyday for eight days. Our destination would be the head waters of the Franklin River which was only 4 hours away. Thick vegetation covered every square inch of the surrounding river bank. Huge myrtle trees with massive limbs stood guard over the river. The river water was the color of a very dark tea from all the tannins that leach through the terrarium like setting. Our group could drink water right out of the river because it was very pure due to the pristine setting. <br /><br /> It felt good to be on the water after months of planning and dreaming. As we pulled up to the headwaters of the Franklin River there was a large flat rocky beach that would be our first camp stop. Almost like magic a couple of rangers walked out of the forest with a list of does and don’t while we ventured into the depths of this Heritage area. The story of the last unlucky travelers was told to us as we unloaded the rafts. Because of the narrow gorge and the frequency of rain, the river level can rise very fast and without warning. Last week a group had be rescued by helicopter, and most of their gear was left behind after the last big gully washer. The ranger asked us to keep a eye out for the lost gear and report it’s location. I got to thinking this could be a very interesting trip on the river of no return.<br /><br /> The next morning I awoke to water dripping off the tarps that we had strung up for our shelter. I looked out from my sleeping bag and noticed a fine mist covering everything with a dew like consistence. Locally it’s known as Angel Rain since it’s so docile and friendly while you get soaked to the bone but you can’t feel any ill will towards it since it’s so melo. It’s like Canada as much anybody tries you can’t hate Canada, it’s like hating toast.<br /><br /> After eating a great breakfast and loading the rafts, the guides gave us a five minute instruction on paddling and self preservation if we got thrown from the raft. As usual with a teacher standing in front of everybody trying to get their attention, people where looking around, counting their toes and talking about this that and not paying much attention. After our class let out we raced to the rafts without knowing how the river gods would treat us. <br /> I was told to go with Kate in her raft and sit in the front, incase my head was needed as a bumper against rocks and fallen trees. Everyone’s face had the look of anxiety as our yellow raft bobbed along in this sea of tranquility. I noticed the sound of water roaring first and then noticed our guides fasten down their life jackets a little tighter. The narrow gorge ahead resembled the mouth of a very hungry dragon as tons of roaring water was being poured down it’s throat. It looked like the safest escape route was being blocked by a fallen tree caused by the last major rain storm. The rushing river water traveling over the tree trunk made a loud whistling sound, as if it wanted us to come closer to kick our butt. The distance between two large boulder that marked our only escape route equaled the width of our quaking raft! If we made it between these two chess pieces then a large black boulder would have to navigated just on the other side as we came out. <br /><br /> Bruce with his raft was the first one to shoot the needle. Being a tad bit more experienced then Kate, his girlfriend he executed the maneuver with perfection and came out of the trap without touching the rocks. Now it was our turn to take on the big bad rocks. As we entered the area that would provide a perfect place to turn and take the rapids straight on we were swept sideways between the two rocks. Tony was trying to yell something to me as we sat in the front of the raft, it could have been his last will and testament, I don’t know because of the loud noise from the angry rapids made it impossible to hear. Our raft got stuck between the two rocks and got turned into a pretzel. The sounds of water rushing over the raft and the noise of rubber raft being sucked through a tiny opening, didn’t settle our nerves. Then in a matter of seconds we popped out from between the two chess player rocks, only to be thrown into the guard rock. When we collided with this rock we where going about 30 miles per hour and then we stopped dead in our tracks. John the doctor from the main land was almost catapulted back home. Him and his wife had been sitting behind Tony and I until we had this close encounter with the giant rock. He was thrown over me and then cleared the rock by two feet easy. He landed in choppy churning water and came to the surface gasping for air and a plane ticket home. Bruce was down river and threw our Flying Walinda a rope and pulled his ass into their boat. We started to paddle and where able to turn the raft around and come off the rock. <br /><br /> Just a few yards down from the rapids we pulled our raft into the shore and slowly got out and set our grateful bodies onto dry land. From then on when the guides where giving instruction on river survival everybody and their dog payed attention. With the throw ropes from the rafts we tied them between two trees we made a sort of shelter with the tarps thrown over them to form a tent. This is a very simple way to make a shelter but with simple comes problems. The ends of the shelter are open and it forms a perfect wind tunnel and the strong breezes carries in driving rain and annoying insects. <br /><br /> We all walked down to the river after dinner to look over our next set of rapids. They looked a lot worse then the ones we just had managed to live through. As the sun went down the temperature dropped and I put on all the cloths that I had brought. From the mishap in the rapids, our raft was covered with two feet of water and my cloths and sleeping bag was wet even though they where in a dry stuff bag. Luckily the sun was out for four hours and I followed it and hung my gear in the trees to dry, or it would have been a long night. I could see the bright stars in the sky and then I noticed a dark cloud ruining my sky show. Then the wind picked up and a heavy rain began to fall. We had to get up and dig a ditch with the paddles around our shelter to divert the water from our sleeping bag and cloths. The sound of the rapids in the river and with the driving rain serenaded us into a groggy half sleep.<br /> The rain had raised the level of the river by two feet at least. Bruce decided to portage around the rapids below our camp. All the paying victims, I mean guests would have to carry food barrels and life jackets around the next obstacle. Bruce and Kate resembling cowpokes as they tied long ropes to the rafts and mosey the critters through the swirling rapids. We all meet up on the down stream side and reloaded the rafts as the river seemed to watch with devilish delight.<br /><br /> A symphony of sound echoed along the river surface, from a distant waterfall as it cascaded into our river. This part of the river was calm and it was relaxing as we drifted and paddled between monoliths of rock that sprouted out of the river twenty feet wide and in height. I looked up and noticed on top of one of these monster, a kayak and a life jacket. Bruce explained that the slow moving river now had risen that high and was a raging torrent just last week. The owners of that kayak had to rescued by helicopter twenty feet off the river. I got the feeling the river gods had control of everything that happened on their surface and out of the kindest of their heart they had let us pass. I was also glad I didn’t show up a week early for this trip! <br /><br /> Bruce announced that we would have lunch around the next bend in the river. He forgot to mention that a rock slide had made the river impossible to ride the rafts through. We would all have to carry the equipment over the mountain that had caused the rock slide, which added insult to injury. After climbing over the mountain in a drizzle of a rain, we carefully made our way back down to the river on the other side. The wet clay mud of the mountain side made for some entertaining moments as rafters turned into human toboggans, as they skidded down the slippery slope on their derrieres. After portaging all of our gear it seemed like we should be growing long ears and kicking up our heels like a burro. When we made it to the river bank, food was brought out for lunch. The food barrels held all types of surprises in way of delicious food. All of us flocked to the barrels like kids at Christmas, when we heard the lids being unscrewed. Because of the cool weather and cold water splashing the barrels, we didn’t need ice chests. Cold cuts and cheeses flowed out of the deep reaches of the container. Hot tea and hot chocolate was brought from a stove and all was right with the world. Sometimes we caught some trout from the river and we fried them in butter. It was great treat and tasted like it had been cooked in a fine restaurant, but we all know you could cook a shoe in butter and it would taste good!<br /><br /> In the afternoon our small rafts coasted to a stop along a gravel bank. High mountains with tree covered slopes seemed to really dwarf our little group of adventures. Little did I know that the biggest adventure was yet to unfold. Bruce made the announcement, that he wanted Tom and I to volunteer to help take the rafts through the next obstacle. Bruce said you couldn’t even call it rapids it was a bend in the river, that had two narrow channels with churning water running through it. He explained all the things that we would have to do, but it was to much to gather in at one time. I told him, lets make it to the other side of the river and then we would make a plan. The rest of the group would have to hike and crawl over the mountain and then we would meet them on the other side. Bruce and I where in one raft and we paddled like mad to cross the river. When we reached the shore I jumped out and pulled the raft up on a flat rock the size of a two car garage. I noticed water was swirling all around the rock, especially in a space that was two feet wide. It formed a perfect trough, in fact they call it the Pig Trough and it was full of roaring water. While we waited for the other raft, Bruce yelled in my ear, to not get to close to the water. Last year a friend of his, a guide was helping a fella with a kayak when he lost his balance and fell into the trough! Before anybody could reach him the suction of the water pulled him head first deeper into the trough with his legs sticking straight up. A rafter pulled out the pump they use to pump air into rafts and tried to get air to this poor guide, but to no avail. A ranger was called but because of the powerful current and recent rains, the rescuers could only wrap his legs in a tarp and put a tag on his toe and not release him. Needless to say I stayed back from the Pig Trough. Kate and Tom made it across the river and we all picked up the raft and carried it to the other side of the rock. There was a eight foot drop on that side and we lowered the raft down. Water was coming out from under the rock and the raft was acting like a surf board in this rushing water. Bruce and I held onto the ropes that where attached to the raft as Kate and Tom jumped into the raft. When we let go of the raft the current swept them down river and then they got stuck between two rocks in the middle of the river. Tom climbed out of the raft and stood on one of the rocks, just then the raft flipped! Kate was thrown into the river and the raft was carried around the bend in the river, which block our view of Kate’s survival. I ask Bruce about the river around the bend and he said there was more rapids unless Kate when far right. Now this was going to be very interesting since Bruce and I had held the raft for Kate and Tom to get in, but we where by ourselves. Bruce and I lowered our raft and he held the rope as I jumped the eight feet to the raft. The raft was bouncing up and down like a bucking bronco. I tried to hold onto the rocky sides of the canyon to some what steady it, but the water was to rough. Just then I noticed a large shadow come over me as Bruce made a leap of faith and landed in the raft. I threw him a paddle and off we when in a instant. We paddled towards Tom on the rock and just as he got ready to jump the raft was moved by the current and he missed the raft. I was able to grab his life jacket and pull him into the raft. By this time the rest of our team had made it down the mountain and had witnessed the while crazy thing. Bruce told everybody to get in the best the could since the raft is made for five and we had the whole crew except for Kate. We all paddled and wondered what we would find around the bend in the river. We saw the upside down raft and Kate was laying on top pretending she was sun bathing. I sure was glad it all turned out for the best and we didn’t loose anybody but we gained more respect for the mighty Franklin River.<br /><br /> That night at dinner we sure had some stories to share. Since it was early and we had plenty of light, Bruce knew of some caves that the Aborigines use to live in and we could explore. We walked into the caves and it was very dark as you might imagine a cave would be. Then within a few seconds of walking we came to a large room that was lite up with sun light. A hole the size of a one car garage opening had been eroded away from the cave wall and it had formed a perfect picture window. The dark interior with the bright outside with all it’s ferns and total green landscape, made it look like we where looking into a giant terrarium.<br /><br />The next morning Bruce gathered us all together to make announcement that there wasn’t anymore rapids from this point on. I was some what disappointed but glad nobody got injured. I knew what it was like for a lion tamer when he puts his head into the lions mouth. I too felt the breath of the lion on my neck and was able to walk away from it.vince vogelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09409914685847755131noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-113513403868397494.post-30576575917559886142010-11-01T13:48:00.000-07:002014-02-07T14:00:02.803-08:00A western tour with my Italian friends !<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAX1eeTG6WDvNUbY1xj1r3TKkXFxX9zG3gTsuTNtEZXIMJmDNvp34b4ngE3C0R7V5dCJwc_4zE2yXnfpKKHc0cuED9ByVTRG9ODD1_cDgCxrMY9KYEGUusuRH8f6173Yy3OOK_JRwY7To/s1600/100_0563.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5535000116198253394" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAX1eeTG6WDvNUbY1xj1r3TKkXFxX9zG3gTsuTNtEZXIMJmDNvp34b4ngE3C0R7V5dCJwc_4zE2yXnfpKKHc0cuED9ByVTRG9ODD1_cDgCxrMY9KYEGUusuRH8f6173Yy3OOK_JRwY7To/s400/100_0563.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkp08soLhtcaxdgrSiwqoqFhHt5R9s2ChUK6yPdYvKIcq_AYdExGM9FuKIW099ip9G9fscr_Ks0vpUgqAHgvkZxVbXr60XW1XTjiUmVXkejaE3E9Xm5IedP6vgQFy9uGb792QGQrsFy7o/s1600/100_2462.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5534999063565178626" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkp08soLhtcaxdgrSiwqoqFhHt5R9s2ChUK6yPdYvKIcq_AYdExGM9FuKIW099ip9G9fscr_Ks0vpUgqAHgvkZxVbXr60XW1XTjiUmVXkejaE3E9Xm5IedP6vgQFy9uGb792QGQrsFy7o/s320/100_2462.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div>The idea of this 2010 western USA trip actually started in 2009 in Scotland. If you have read my blog about TGO challenge then you know about me meeting a group of hikers from Milan, Italy. If you haven’t read it then get your butt over to that blog spot first and we will wait!<br /><br />I found out in Scotland that my Italian hiking buddies had so many memories of the good old USA from western movies rattling around in their nogins. The Italians had visions of everybody <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTuK6CRIxFjoh28SGcclJzfut46E1cid8e8J8yjBxbkxuQ2DuVyJ-Ki61azZrDn9uNfeCs4B7KbXq8HnMgj0HgCokvCht5bG-PV55W_Y3BryWRQpiJKAC80l_31vxCrS5Zdn_rwo9SHSo/s1600/100_2466.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5535333101578823490" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTuK6CRIxFjoh28SGcclJzfut46E1cid8e8J8yjBxbkxuQ2DuVyJ-Ki61azZrDn9uNfeCs4B7KbXq8HnMgj0HgCokvCht5bG-PV55W_Y3BryWRQpiJKAC80l_31vxCrS5Zdn_rwo9SHSo/s320/100_2466.jpg" border="0" /></a>and their dog wearing a ten gallon cowboy hat west of the Mississippi river. Together as we hiked across the heather in Scotland I came up with the idea of my new friends visiting the west, with your’s truly as their guide.<br /><br />In the past almost everybody I have meet traveling around the world hardly ever keep in contact with me after I have returned to Denver Colorado. Maybe I should use more deodorant or switch toothpaste! The Italians not only kept in contact with me but the idea of coming to our crazy country seemed to grow like the national debt on their agenda.<br /><br />When I got home to Denver I spent a few days getting my act together as a guide of the old west, then I e-mailed my ideas and the budgets to the Italians. I would rent a large vehicle, big enough for the six Italians to fit in comfortably, but small enough that it wouldn’t take up two lanes with flashing lights.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGng-erQ5nuhU5zNPNuFfZGI6HoyMPEh9vnwzVvm40w806u7ygrss6KgRGQmbdyY5u4xOc1GCEmjeIwMtdX0b7XBklBmgrH5MV1XhyphenhyphenxOhzZ6KfCejauBTUpbwyEmL_o52f7WvU2BvivIY/s1600/100_2473.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5534998618703162450" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGng-erQ5nuhU5zNPNuFfZGI6HoyMPEh9vnwzVvm40w806u7ygrss6KgRGQmbdyY5u4xOc1GCEmjeIwMtdX0b7XBklBmgrH5MV1XhyphenhyphenxOhzZ6KfCejauBTUpbwyEmL_o52f7WvU2BvivIY/s320/100_2473.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />All the planets and stars seemed to be in line for the winter western travel to start on February 8th. Our travels would begin in Las Vegas Nevada, so we would end up at my home in Denver. On Feb 8th I walked to the car rental offices in a blizzard, I thought what a way to start a trip. I had all the camping gear and coolers loaded in the Suburban and was on the road by 9:00 am. My first destination was going to be Summerlin a suburb of Las Vegas. I had remodeled a home there in 2008 for a friend of mine and had a set of keys to the refurbished home. By 9:00 pm I drove into the driveway in Vegas and the first part of my our travel log had just begun. My own vehicle is a 1993 truck with close to 3 hundred miles almost as much as it’s owner and they both have as many aches and pains. After driving 900 miles I realized my rented Suburban also had all the latest and greatest conveniences that my truck lacks like air conditioning, cruise control, <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmrfYHEdCTi_NWlqCSOZCD4YvRQk-tGIL2nkaK73QkrevkDw9ivio5quaPswHmarfxf4KCZ8EL33e9KRKuUNGnzPQ9LvE9GPvbVcZJNNEMZUlA6yBRwHXj1UdeIwYqYUTcS5QrYzjI9AE/s1600/100_2496.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5534998324995852802" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmrfYHEdCTi_NWlqCSOZCD4YvRQk-tGIL2nkaK73QkrevkDw9ivio5quaPswHmarfxf4KCZ8EL33e9KRKuUNGnzPQ9LvE9GPvbVcZJNNEMZUlA6yBRwHXj1UdeIwYqYUTcS5QrYzjI9AE/s320/100_2496.jpg" border="0" /></a>CD player and a smooth rides instead of the feeling of riding in a wheel barrow.<br /><br />The next day Feb 9th, I drove to Trader’s Joes a grocery store and picked up a few supplies and three cases of a cheaper wine named accordingly Two Buck Chuck’s. Dave Guzy a friend from Denver had planned on joining the group for the first part of the travel and he was due into Las Vegas this evening.<br /><br />Feb 10th was the day my Italian friend would fly into Vegas and then we would have a great reunion party. I knew they were really nervous since most had never been to the USA, and they weren’t even sure I would be there to pick them up. Dave and I arrived early at the airport and <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiilmThDFJPqnf1ldjmt8aIv43ztwaG4vWC5Hdkh-wI9COmAFIHMeDEUqJngdwoPinfPMjHcTls9ZmLHsQKaBp0X_Q47a79AtM4SQsTxH9tdE-qyG5JweYyU0Pth8H1bsuZ3FdxniNjbuM/s1600/100_2498.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5534997706124151954" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiilmThDFJPqnf1ldjmt8aIv43ztwaG4vWC5Hdkh-wI9COmAFIHMeDEUqJngdwoPinfPMjHcTls9ZmLHsQKaBp0X_Q47a79AtM4SQsTxH9tdE-qyG5JweYyU0Pth8H1bsuZ3FdxniNjbuM/s320/100_2498.jpg" border="0" /></a>waited with probably the same amount of nervousness. At 8:00 pm after many hours of flying time under there belt my group arrived. Biagio was the only one that spoke English and I had been e-mailing him during the past year. Giorgio was single after losing his wife a few years ago and I had meet him in Scotland. Pierino was also in Scotland but this time he had his wife with him. Allessandra was going to stay at home in Italy and miss out on our adventure until I mentioned that I could find Pierino a nice substitute Indian wife here. Another woman named Afra was also in Scotland but this time she had her husband named Melchiorro was with her. She also had a cast on her leg after a skiing accident back home. Everyone had a giant smile on their faces as we waited for the luggage to arrive.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_6sdTsqoB25XNrVh-yBHuyx-0Vj0sF9Hb44I6dZF5lgA7EA8xhIKZmPhSpRizmZ5OL1k8ChqhsG3NOMwlMwkKx94Qyiw2IFUHksV7mxK5E5M8Kj_GYADwd_2Sbn9TxaMZ05_bBmHJJgE/s1600/100_2502.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5534997461880261074" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_6sdTsqoB25XNrVh-yBHuyx-0Vj0sF9Hb44I6dZF5lgA7EA8xhIKZmPhSpRizmZ5OL1k8ChqhsG3NOMwlMwkKx94Qyiw2IFUHksV7mxK5E5M8Kj_GYADwd_2Sbn9TxaMZ05_bBmHJJgE/s320/100_2502.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />I drove the vehicle back to our temporary home with lots of questions coming from the seats behind me. All questions and answers had to go through Biagio. So it took a few minutes to go through a series of questions. The group was completely blown away with the beauty of the remodeled home that would be our base camp for a few days. Tracy and Bob the owners had gone over the top with the decorations and furnishings. Our group sat around the table and drank wine and talked. After all their travels the group just wanted to find a clean warm bed. The house had three bedrooms in the upstairs. The Italians would sleep upstairs and Dave and I would sleep down. I picked the couch but Dave sleep on the first floor landing which was just big enough for his sleeping bag.<br /><br />The next morning after coffee and toast we headed to Red Rock Canyon. The canyon is part of the national park service and I had a pass. The rock formations were deposited millions of years ago from wind blown sand dunes. The weight of the piled up sand compressed it into mountains <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1VJogr6KMa1RTkSgJAPDRnNLdRjumvR7JaldI3z53c8MUg00HlV2iNriQUxX9JB5_k1sT0lAAnVM0B6ndSYUnA2YCCWjKRP8VXXJQ5Qnbxldz5pZWoSKWNuxCI-66TYATcYjTaD5Da9Q/s1600/100_2504.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5534997106026106338" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1VJogr6KMa1RTkSgJAPDRnNLdRjumvR7JaldI3z53c8MUg00HlV2iNriQUxX9JB5_k1sT0lAAnVM0B6ndSYUnA2YCCWjKRP8VXXJQ5Qnbxldz5pZWoSKWNuxCI-66TYATcYjTaD5Da9Q/s320/100_2504.jpg" border="0" /></a>of colorful mountains. The colors with the morning sun bearing down on it was a picture perfect moment. We all went on a few hikes in the canyons, with lots of questions about the Mohave Desert and it’s plants and animals. Than we got back into our machine and drove north to Valley of Fire, the first state park in Nevada. The park was the setting for the first Star Wars film. The rock formation and Native American petrography on the rock walls was a big hit for all of us. A series of Indian art that tells a story in the life of these ancient people is scratched into the dark sandstone walls. As we ate our first picnic lunch by a giant rock formation a Red Tail Hawk came swopping down and had chipmunk for his lunch. Later I took the group on a cross country hike to the top of one of the red rock mountains looking for Desert Big Horn Sheep.<br /><br />I could tell that everyone was feeling like they where part of the scenery, like they belonged there. As we drove back to the huge city of Vegas, my group had questions about the other part of Nevada the glitter and lights of downtown Lost Wages, I mean Las Vegas. I tried to tell them about the phoney baloney part with all the smoke and mirrors. But I also knew everybody had <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuMa3CbS1mnOamXpYe7foyoonqbDINEclzAA4-Qzc1KI00woZaXAv8X2eDtfzu_eptP0d1kj8mxNBckiPU1-s-XFiNG4E4WySimjm236I7t6xhSR9kp6YU1jzW7HavnSGLvA6LkWnxQZk/s1600/100_2522.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5535002039125949410" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuMa3CbS1mnOamXpYe7foyoonqbDINEclzAA4-Qzc1KI00woZaXAv8X2eDtfzu_eptP0d1kj8mxNBckiPU1-s-XFiNG4E4WySimjm236I7t6xhSR9kp6YU1jzW7HavnSGLvA6LkWnxQZk/s320/100_2522.jpg" border="0" /></a>to experience the night life for themselves.<br /><br />Everyone put on clean cloths and we head down to the Vegas Strip. Remember what ever happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, if you take enough penicillin! As I drove closer the lights of sin city lite up the sky. I found a free parking spot at the Bally Casino. We all walked thru a make believe French Village in the Bally casino with real life slot machines and other equally easy places to spend our money. As we stepped into the street, the night air was filled with the sound of craziness, like only Vegas or New Orleans during Mardi Gras can generate. A homeless man that must have been 6'8" was wearing a red wig and a red bra and little else, as he stood along the curb. He was holding a dirty black felt hat in front of his waist hoping people would drop money in it. Right above his belt buckle someone had sprayed with red paint on his bare hairy chest a unique comment. “I AM A WHORE FOR MONEY!” Luckily five of my Italian friends couldn’t read English. Biagio on the other hand got very close and then turned with a puzzled look on his face and asked about the meaning of the words. I was trying to come up with a explanation when three other crazies got into a loud argument. Two of the rascals had been handing out cards with a phone number that guaranteed you a woman in your room in 15 minutes. Another guy with smoke coming out of his ears yelled that he had called the number and no one had shown up. “It’s false advertising!” he kept yelling at the two pimps. All this took place in the first ten minutes of our Vegas visit.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBCbCOakYOiqQDaOH-0QECYve2x3KeAfqQ7-EoBpVnvSwTmtMCFxbZMnCLEGr4PTdC5-T0sakfjnah1YM4KIKIVmsqSa9EC1gQTkZGJ8rxlds17B_o34a4yxLuUJ6YKo-P3fPbubTijNE/s1600/100_2505.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5535002410306477810" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBCbCOakYOiqQDaOH-0QECYve2x3KeAfqQ7-EoBpVnvSwTmtMCFxbZMnCLEGr4PTdC5-T0sakfjnah1YM4KIKIVmsqSa9EC1gQTkZGJ8rxlds17B_o34a4yxLuUJ6YKo-P3fPbubTijNE/s320/100_2505.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />We continued to walk around looking at the make believe and the plastic people for another few hours. I could tell everyone had seen enough to prove that the place was a waste of our time and energy. We all walked to the car and drove home in silence, but for the next three weeks, every day someone would ask a question about Las Vegas. My friends came to the conclusion, if they didn’t like someone in Italy, they would send them to Vegas for a week!<br /><br />Everyone was glad to have Vegas in our rear view mirror as we headed north towards Utah. Our first stop would be Zion National Park. We stopped at a small town for lunch and this would turn out to be quite fun in it self. With six people talking at the same time, I would take the orders of food from everyone and then I would tell the waitress. Most time though we had a lovely picnic for lunch with cold cuts, cheese and wine. In this same Mormon town we stopped by the library so we could all use the computers for e-mail. The library folks were so friendly and helpful, it made the experience very nice and fast.<br /><br />By 5:00 pm we checked into a motel. I then rounded everybody up so we could drive thru Zion as the sun went down on the beautiful red rock canyon walls. The Virgin River has cut a canyon <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbukistKkSgJTIYmOoZ9K39qTiJxDTBc035uGrWIw0zjtyAKPaMM2r6wCXzFXpimgm6aogTvVKGjg_RlX5mHr5M02f3SzqJRizuTv2EyQpx_-l7wubDyy1W1kAOwFX6TECp7uvRyypEu8/s1600/100_2618.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5535001443583295138" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbukistKkSgJTIYmOoZ9K39qTiJxDTBc035uGrWIw0zjtyAKPaMM2r6wCXzFXpimgm6aogTvVKGjg_RlX5mHr5M02f3SzqJRizuTv2EyQpx_-l7wubDyy1W1kAOwFX6TECp7uvRyypEu8/s320/100_2618.jpg" border="0" /></a>out of solid red sand stone and my group had never seen anything like it. After taking a few hundred pictures and getting our mind wrapped around a magical place, we found our way back to our motel. Earlier I had found a large room to have a place to drink some wine and sample some cheese before dinner. As we all sat around a large wooden table I could tell my friends didn’t know what was about to happen. “Why would someone eat food before dinner and ruin their appetite?” they asked. The more food I brought out the more they pushed the food towards me. It was a case of one culture learning about another culture.<br /><br />The next morning we all got suited up with back packs and hiking boots. Afra with her crutch, would stay behind in the valley of Zion while the rest of us would walk the trail up to Angel’s Landing. We left the parking lot and headed across the Virgin River by way of a bridge. The trail is like a giant serpent with us on it back as it follows the river bed and then goes up the mountain. The farther we all walked up the mountain the greater the view became. I had bought ice grippers that can be attached to our boots and within a few hours we needed them. The trail was facing the north side and many boots had stomped the snow into a iceberg big enough to sink the Titanic. The trail was a steep toboggan run, with one false move and we would find all of us at the bottom of the hill. After we climbed along the steep trail we found ourselves at a saddle in the mountain. With a restrooms and a place to sit down and have a snack. I had walked and crawled on this trail last year, so I knew it would get real tricky after this point. Years ago some very nice rangers had attached chains along the trail at waist height that would help to keep hikers from sliding off the mountain side, it was that steep. Dave and Alessandra wisely decided to stay behind at our snack spot. Ice and snow was under our feet as we climbed along the mountain side with a 500 foot drop into the valley below if we lost our grip on the cold chain. Within a hour we came to the next saddle and ahead of us was a knife edge covered with more <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuStbyyumHcXoxk305qGfw_bwIVG1Pv71Sdt_C-l97yHljxFJmkPAuYl4aEQPfBGA-5I7Wm3Xsk1PRCfRx9dUriIGM7BgJcy6ftBRk6IUtVO18GoJalkmWD0FCZDbJDHo099uq9UB5YxM/s1600/100_2520.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5534996829236451922" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuStbyyumHcXoxk305qGfw_bwIVG1Pv71Sdt_C-l97yHljxFJmkPAuYl4aEQPfBGA-5I7Wm3Xsk1PRCfRx9dUriIGM7BgJcy6ftBRk6IUtVO18GoJalkmWD0FCZDbJDHo099uq9UB5YxM/s320/100_2520.jpg" border="0" /></a>ice and snow. The slope was at a 30 degree slant and we could see a couple hikers working their way back down to us. The woman wore tennis shoes and the man had rubber boots on his feet. Last year when I climbed up this section there was half as much snow and it was just crazy with <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmI8RT0pqSj4W591w4sOoYHtq8lxwd0gEANNoiIqnM9rlKVy4xa7H-_WCyjctx9LpvBNWxVST3Mj0Sx4CZn5v7yzPz13g3U3aXdAbxgF6Je_gqqbfwee6hTisM4EvT01EL3OdxbIpiPKg/s1600/100_2524.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5534996468709655522" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmI8RT0pqSj4W591w4sOoYHtq8lxwd0gEANNoiIqnM9rlKVy4xa7H-_WCyjctx9LpvBNWxVST3Mj0Sx4CZn5v7yzPz13g3U3aXdAbxgF6Je_gqqbfwee6hTisM4EvT01EL3OdxbIpiPKg/s320/100_2524.jpg" border="0" /></a>one false step and you would become part of the valley below. With the 500 foot drops on both sides the Italians could not believe that the rangers would allow anybody without the proper climbing equipment to walk this section. I tried to explain that in America, most people don’t like the government’s involved in their business and it was up to the individual if they wanted to kill themselves.<br />“But doesn’t the government rangers have to come in for a rescue or pick up the pieces after a <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKUwFzCE5GRVM5jE5SHEwRs7GKlR_fgsnHXYSeOYMSeGGxcu1s2tkh37yuxHQpnhD7X5SZ_QUeYOsBwvkzxjlXDMOtmoSrQWvyBYAwlGLmpAF4TcLg9qVE95WA92097ARAEvohFcyILtQ/s1600/100_2507.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5534984085266299522" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKUwFzCE5GRVM5jE5SHEwRs7GKlR_fgsnHXYSeOYMSeGGxcu1s2tkh37yuxHQpnhD7X5SZ_QUeYOsBwvkzxjlXDMOtmoSrQWvyBYAwlGLmpAF4TcLg9qVE95WA92097ARAEvohFcyILtQ/s400/100_2507.jpg" border="0" /></a>accident and then pay the medical bills of these fools?” asked Biagio<br /><br />We all worked our way back to Dave and Alessandra waiting patiently along the trail. When we arrived I noticed Alessandra talking to her husband Pierino. Then they talked with Biagio, as they walked towards me, with a smile on their face. It seems Dave trying to be friendly had asked Allessandra to come sit by him as they waited for our return, in Italy that is a come on for “why don’t we have a relationship”<br /><br />After eating lunch we walked farther <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxDv6n-deGQXnxr0DnfulCnfzeexdS3iwftmpCqeH1unBRXQfUGptylQTV2NVxJt9EVFvq9NZBuiXyP6sdgBcaoHFBD2yk7akzY_TVJD6-tPHAF71lgT_oaXwMfmN7beQuNK_rmpSWdGc/s1600/100_2515.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5534989190299567394" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxDv6n-deGQXnxr0DnfulCnfzeexdS3iwftmpCqeH1unBRXQfUGptylQTV2NVxJt9EVFvq9NZBuiXyP6sdgBcaoHFBD2yk7akzY_TVJD6-tPHAF71lgT_oaXwMfmN7beQuNK_rmpSWdGc/s320/100_2515.jpg" border="0" /></a>up the trail towards large rock formation, with out the danger of sliding to our death. After a minor snowball fight, we all turned around and head back to Afra and our ride to the visitor center, that was run by the park service. The center is completely heated by the sun and is a piece of functional art work in it’s design.<br /><br />This time we had dinner in the same room with the large wooden table and all had plenty to eat and drink. This is also a good time to explain about the Italians eating habits, they would never think of over drinking or eating. If they had a glass of wine it was only half full and then the next glass was half water and half wine. They had never been drunk in their lives! Dinner time was never before 8:00 pm. After dinner we would all sit around and they would talk about the food and how it could have been improved or how much they enjoyed it. Biagio told me sometimes that the dinner at home would start at 8:00 pm and then they would talk until 1 or 2 am. I found out to my delight that they treat meal time and the food as a sacred thing. Where American’s eat just to get it done with so we can all do something else more important, like stare at the television. The dinners and picnics that followed in the next weeks was always a great time to talk about our days activities.<br /><br /><br />The next morning we all piled into the car and headed to Bryce Canyon. The road thru Zion follows the river bottom and then winds it way thru a long tunnel onto the mountain above. This <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB7ZaDjk8k7Q3pc9sH4-BcofG3NNev6GnaT3tmQXQ-aw6Dlx5FYJ8kTPKwRxzOPe3utyGMVwWunIxQU1PARFE9AdCH4jQAXqdijn0inXuXBZWLiQMG1b0NBohv4berfgGxAP1fbSapYqQ/s1600/100_2525.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5534996070122494898" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB7ZaDjk8k7Q3pc9sH4-BcofG3NNev6GnaT3tmQXQ-aw6Dlx5FYJ8kTPKwRxzOPe3utyGMVwWunIxQU1PARFE9AdCH4jQAXqdijn0inXuXBZWLiQMG1b0NBohv4berfgGxAP1fbSapYqQ/s320/100_2525.jpg" border="0" /></a>tunnel was carved out of solid red rock by the CCC, in the 1930's. These workers left port holes cut into the tunnel that lets light and a killer view of the valley below. The bright sun light coming through these port holes only added to the magic of this special place.<br /><br />The Utah landscape of the mesa as we exited the tunnel with red rocks and desert plants was very unreal to my Italian friends. We stopped at one place that had a large arch cut out of rock <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK0XtawciLe5fo_q_BR-Z647wlc8WfaLz8LKG2gSIutMVZ5Gnm12iA-s6JPe4kQarU5i12xbIyTqQL0CzNDxBhl6QJ9IRJmhSGKnvfKbc-a1XdG1MHdIl52Hr4Ixq-xpKVkMnjEopJPn8/s1600/100_2540.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5534985086219446946" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK0XtawciLe5fo_q_BR-Z647wlc8WfaLz8LKG2gSIutMVZ5Gnm12iA-s6JPe4kQarU5i12xbIyTqQL0CzNDxBhl6QJ9IRJmhSGKnvfKbc-a1XdG1MHdIl52Hr4Ixq-xpKVkMnjEopJPn8/s400/100_2540.jpg" border="0" /></a>and it made a natural bridge over the road. All my friends had their picture taken under the rock formation and than we broke out the wine and cheese and had a picnic. By noon we arrived at Bryce Canyon that had gotten a boat load of snow during the winter. The rangers had shoveled a path of waist deep snow in order to get the visitors closer to the edge where the best views where. We traveled these path ways like rats following a maize. It was well worth the effort since the views of the valleys below are beyond description. My new friends had seen the vision of Bryce Canyon on there travel station at home but they loved the real view better.<br /><br />A ranger had told us about the town of Kanab in southern Utah and it had a wonderful old hotel. The movie stars that had made movies in this area, had used the hotel as their temporary home. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8_Y_ttJwZKCuCC_oC0EoFAdgPLVLnE2hx4GzxvnGWcnXeE3pZATeohs720pkrUGEUlvKREQMe_1E3QJ7x5tueUMCzJ6Cu-xxANm_pFMLIGt1ThRYSSZ2-aK7ILnJMM5qRAvnwBjXxs9Q/s1600/100_2530.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5534985523058806098" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8_Y_ttJwZKCuCC_oC0EoFAdgPLVLnE2hx4GzxvnGWcnXeE3pZATeohs720pkrUGEUlvKREQMe_1E3QJ7x5tueUMCzJ6Cu-xxANm_pFMLIGt1ThRYSSZ2-aK7ILnJMM5qRAvnwBjXxs9Q/s400/100_2530.jpg" border="0" /></a>The prices where very reasonable and every wall in the lobby had an old autographed photo from all the movie stars that use to stay there. Since the Italian’s where all brought up with western movies, just the thought of John Wayne staying here sent my friends into orbit. I had the feeling that the ghosts of a few stars where still wondering the hall ways! After getting settled most of the group decided to walked around town and with one eye open for a place to eat dinner. We found a Italian restaurant that had been in town since the town was founded. An old tin type picture <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDANX2lpPOuAKQGw2X2EyS0GvLHZSxYzDJekGYvxaN7o4eqxz9qdsrSmbkgZ1YyX9UZCI2iZCpvgTHP_k2CbJxoIsmApsEubAEWpFfJQetYlhb03hmyO_sQdc-ExgNeZDYl3RXRCBRTtE/s1600/100_2548.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5534994917870972546" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDANX2lpPOuAKQGw2X2EyS0GvLHZSxYzDJekGYvxaN7o4eqxz9qdsrSmbkgZ1YyX9UZCI2iZCpvgTHP_k2CbJxoIsmApsEubAEWpFfJQetYlhb03hmyO_sQdc-ExgNeZDYl3RXRCBRTtE/s320/100_2548.jpg" border="0" /></a>of the chef owner’s grandmother that had immigrated from Italy in 18800's and had started the place hung above our table. She seemed to be watching our every move and wanted our praises. The soups and pasta salads had to be tried out before ordering to make sure they where like momma used to make back home and the samples meet with the groups approval.<br /><br />The next morning we all headed southern towards the Grand Canyon. I found a dirt road that lead to Lake Powell and the lake was a grand sight with a mill pond reflection of the rock formations on the far shore. A county sheriff had pulled up to the lake side and was out walking his patrol dog, when we drove up. Like a chorus line the Italians slowly worked there way over to the patrol car and the policeman. In a matter of minutes each one was sitting in the car and or standing beside the patrolmen having their picture taken. I walked over after a few minutes and said to the smiling sheriff. “At least they didn’t ask to shoot your gun!”<br /><br />By noon we arrived at the Glenn Canyon Dam and took a short tour of the area. In the visitor center I walked over to the information desk and told the ranger about my Italian tourist. “Wait a minute we have a ranger that speaks Italian!” she said. Allen walked up and he not only spoke Italian but he was a Navajo Indian. We found out that Allen was a Mormon missionary and had been sent to Italy to convert a few people to Joseph Smith’s way of thinking. Which must have been a uphill battle since most Italian’s are Catholic and your close to the home office in Rome! He talked to all my friends in Italian while we worked our way through wine and cold cuts for lunch. They had many questions about his culture and then Glenn Dam itself.<br /><br />By late afternoon we arrived at the entrance gate to the Grand Canyon National Park. I must have stopped fifty times for my group to take pictures of the vast Grand Canyon as I drove along the rim. I parked the car at the Bright Angel Lodge and we all walked into the building with <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-qggCKKY7KfkHkSdKeUIRoc904JPau5-fUhaeDmU7WOp455jDqLUdsR1lImOLdvn8OkdMMXBpRYlejnRztmKWYuldAyfrTyHgQufn4LPzooohkk6oaFsuBbzEIh17F0Kj8f2ZJs9EXIg/s1600/100_2561.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5534990183284589378" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-qggCKKY7KfkHkSdKeUIRoc904JPau5-fUhaeDmU7WOp455jDqLUdsR1lImOLdvn8OkdMMXBpRYlejnRztmKWYuldAyfrTyHgQufn4LPzooohkk6oaFsuBbzEIh17F0Kj8f2ZJs9EXIg/s320/100_2561.jpg" border="0" /></a>many different thought running through our minds. My friends wanted to see all the art work on the walls and then go through the back doors and see the canyon itself. I on the other hand needed to check in at the front desk for our rooms and arrange to have mules carry down some of our camping gear into the canyon for the 2 nights of camping. The rooms worked out nicely but we missed the cut off time by 15 minutes for the mules for tomorrow. We would have to carry all our supplies like little burro. “There isn’t any problems only solutions!” I tried to arrange a mule for Afra to be carried down in the canyon because of her bum leg. I was told she had to go see Poncho the mule driver and see if he thought it was OK to have a mule carry her down. After the reservation clerk found out that Afra only spoke Italian we didn’t have to find Poncho. I guess Poncho can speak mule but not Italian!<br /><br />Since Mel and Afra where not going down in the canyon I reserved a room for 2 extra nights since we would be camped out in the bottom of the canyon with the coyotes. Before dinner I brought the camping gear, all tents and sleeping bags from Dave’s truck . I made sure everybody would be covered with tents and bags. Then I distributed our camping food so everyone had enough to eat. Some of our meals would be bought at the bottom of the canyon at the Phantom Ranch Lodge.<br /><br />The next morning after breakfast at the park cafeteria we all headed to the trail head. I had a camping permit for 8 people but we only needed one for 6. Dave Guzy had a extra permit so he walked to the ranger station and tried to turn his in. After waiting a hour he finally returned without any luck on turning in his permit.<br /><br />The Bright Angel trail that would lead us into the canyon was very slippery with several inches of a ice packed snow. We attached the steel cleats on the bottom of our shoes so we wouldn’t all slide down the trail into the Colorado River. Each and everyone of us had sore necks from looking around at all the wonderful sights as we followed the trail down. Within a hour, the snow had <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV5uRqLUnXwzmNaFVp0UmkSh6hdC4V_ywALxtiJzfKREF73ITago4xiRo4vYMyxlyfpuElfi03KT1GLQVkkoEjR-NCvsRbsMJhNM8kdJE3ankABUKcIDlQONZaSJjcaTP9XrEwhzEiccA/s1600/100_2573.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5534994610797549874" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV5uRqLUnXwzmNaFVp0UmkSh6hdC4V_ywALxtiJzfKREF73ITago4xiRo4vYMyxlyfpuElfi03KT1GLQVkkoEjR-NCvsRbsMJhNM8kdJE3ankABUKcIDlQONZaSJjcaTP9XrEwhzEiccA/s320/100_2573.jpg" border="0" /></a>melted off the trail and we didn’t needed our cleats. The farther you walk down in the canyon the warmer the temperature. By noon we had made it to Indian Gardens where there was fresh water and a picnic table to eat lunch. The sun was warm and it felt real good to finally be down in the canyon after months of planning.<br /><br />After lunch the trail wound it way down to the river bottom. The rocky canyon had a trail chiseled out of solid stone and it made quite a back ground for our travels. The sight of the Colorado River was something all of us where glad to see. The Italian’s had a tear in their eyes since they had heard of the river their whole lives and now were standing beside the river in real life. I walked ahead and got across the steel bridge spanning the river about 30 minutes ahead of the rest of the gang. I walked to the camp ground and dropped my pack at a perfect campsite. A ranger was walking around the site and I introduced myself and explained about the Italians. “Oh you’re a guide!” the ranger said. “No I meet this group in Scotland and I am just showing them the west..” I said. With a wink in his eye he said “Right!” I didn’t have time to talk more to Ranger Dick so I walked back to the bridge and guided my group to the sites.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwwvO77aRt47bZSIbmJROEzqVe_nX_O_QtaTem2jIiYNRQLZzJd1sJocrjYBz2ywtiyyIMlmEs9G95hNz7qJvCv-4dMnHOOzrEl_GLtM0E8uajv7RP08eMPAUrUFZjDf3KEV37ZYd1t9Q/s1600/100_2565.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5534985920444933746" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwwvO77aRt47bZSIbmJROEzqVe_nX_O_QtaTem2jIiYNRQLZzJd1sJocrjYBz2ywtiyyIMlmEs9G95hNz7qJvCv-4dMnHOOzrEl_GLtM0E8uajv7RP08eMPAUrUFZjDf3KEV37ZYd1t9Q/s400/100_2565.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />After a little wash up we walked up to the lodge where the meals are served and waited to be called in for grub. The picnic tables are long and covered with all types of food. The numerous hikers that are sitting at the table are as different as the food. It is always fun to find out about the different people and their plans for the canyon. After dinner the cook allows the hikers to sit at the tables after they have been cleared and talk while washing the dust from the trail with a few beers.<br /><br />The next morning the breakfast is served at 6:30 am. The Italians wanted to know if I could talk to the cooks about changing the time to maybe 8:00 am. After a great breakfast we all head up the north canyon trail to Rainbow Falls. We had a lunch spread out by the multi colored falls and it was a great place for a picnic. The cold water was to inviting for some who stuck their heads under the water spilling off the cliffs above.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB1XyjRsPloDaIa6MqiUCaDx5efRFb4fPXUvwNof5NPZK1mQ8_Od5hVlAptNKTJFMUjIrG88Iuc1ABrBD8pBG7G4K3F7a1X2cUYGLHNIDaDgChHnh-AphIs2o3OKewOXuz-6yxDFHRR_E/s1600/100_2571.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5534986428235947266" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB1XyjRsPloDaIa6MqiUCaDx5efRFb4fPXUvwNof5NPZK1mQ8_Od5hVlAptNKTJFMUjIrG88Iuc1ABrBD8pBG7G4K3F7a1X2cUYGLHNIDaDgChHnh-AphIs2o3OKewOXuz-6yxDFHRR_E/s400/100_2571.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />When we made it back to the campsite another group had shown up that had walked all day and part of night down the North Rim trail. They had post holed snow up to their waist for many miles. They where so tired they just went to bed. Another group that was heading back up the Bright Angel trail had two liters of red wine and they didn’t want to carry it out so they made some Italian I knew very happy.<br /><br />The next morning we all got our packs ready for the walk back up the hill by way of Kabab trail. I noticed my permit wasn’t on my tent any more and I thought maybe the wind blew it off. Just then the ranger showed up and wanted to talk to Dave and I at his office. Dave thought he had been seen peeing in the bushes at night, but it was nuttier then that. I had to wait outside while the ranger talked to Dave in his office. I was just dressed in a light shirt and was freezing my butt off as I sat in the shade. Finally the ranger and Dave came out of the office and the ranger gave both of us tickets for knowing each other but not sharing a camping spot. It all boiled down to the fact Ranger Dick thought Dave and I where outfitters without a license but he couldn’t prove it. He even had a ranger on the top of the canyon check us out on the internet. They found out Dave worked for the Dept of the Interior the same as they did. They found out that I was listed under the Screaming Weasel a rock band in Chicago. The whole thing was like a Saturday Night Live skit!.<br /><br />After a few hours of waiting we all headed up the long trail. Another steel bridge crossed the Colorado River and then we all walked through a rock tunnel. The climb was a long haul with many stops and plenty of pictures taken. At the top was a bus that would take us back to the <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja5Dt_nNSZ9fRjH5finCn3gOLJ3jPKz0lSxZMbU718I3W5ypY6XDw6bLYG1B8tylV6sCB4v_6DD22nzMMEYRME7MkIXrg6TQydlcCjBcIEUOmzf9uAWfMjOnCj6ajClGouFbmO6hAPwe0/s1600/100_2556.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5534995740519419938" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja5Dt_nNSZ9fRjH5finCn3gOLJ3jPKz0lSxZMbU718I3W5ypY6XDw6bLYG1B8tylV6sCB4v_6DD22nzMMEYRME7MkIXrg6TQydlcCjBcIEUOmzf9uAWfMjOnCj6ajClGouFbmO6hAPwe0/s320/100_2556.jpg" border="0" /></a>hotel rooms and warm showers. But before Dave and I had chance to feel warm water on our back side I wanted to go to the ranger station and try and get the ticket fixed or explained or both. The head ranger was understanding and was going to look into the while affair. Which was good enough for me, since a warm shower and meal had my name on it. Later on while we drove away from Grand Canyon the ranger called on the cell phone and said he was voiding the ticket.<br /><br /><br /><br />The next morning we head out of the Grand Canyon with a Hopi Indian reservation on our mind. Our first stop was for lunch at Tuba City in the Navajo Reservation. I found a perfect restaurant with lots of Indian cars all around. We all walked in and I noticed an Indian with a Code Talker jackets on and about the right age for that type of jacket. I explained to Biagio about the Code Talker, how they help the Army with communicating in their Navajo language and the Japanese could not breaking the code during the Second World War. After that Biagio couldn’t wait to talk to this fella. I walked over and explained to this Indian about our little Italian group and he <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB_RrY0p8MizjuLoekWQi8JYGMSDvDdg4fboNOkoq7TzsGTMaGRtOKascoFAgSnRR-NV5XHb19nRqx95tMFzioL4kfP_O8_W3t1oprzMxvYmcO5urKwJSmgkne_mNVlOziIefaKSDbFJU/s1600/100_2577.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5534990574362215922" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB_RrY0p8MizjuLoekWQi8JYGMSDvDdg4fboNOkoq7TzsGTMaGRtOKascoFAgSnRR-NV5XHb19nRqx95tMFzioL4kfP_O8_W3t1oprzMxvYmcO5urKwJSmgkne_mNVlOziIefaKSDbFJU/s320/100_2577.jpg" border="0" /></a>agreed to talk to them. Picture and hand shakes where exchanged. I also explained to our group about how the Navajo and the Hopi don’t get along and don’t talk to one about the other. Dave must have forgotten and went outside the restaurant and ask a Navajo man the directions to the Hopi Reservation. “Let see here you go north on highway 160 until you come to Kayenta and <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG01bjFfWeLuO6hQpABba80XlfGoflAKfeSxA2bcqCnhvmmbcGF1rZBRX102uvLohvrHSUtlhpManZ0fQl3-4vnzPXh4PGNgay38knwmTCJZdMy6Tyxe7bcU6FMwNWXlrYuckqWh_c6TY/s1600/100_2656.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5534984660636929506" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG01bjFfWeLuO6hQpABba80XlfGoflAKfeSxA2bcqCnhvmmbcGF1rZBRX102uvLohvrHSUtlhpManZ0fQl3-4vnzPXh4PGNgay38knwmTCJZdMy6Tyxe7bcU6FMwNWXlrYuckqWh_c6TY/s400/100_2656.jpg" border="0" /></a>then you take a dirt road for 25 miles!” he said. Which is the complete opposite direction!<br /><br />The afternoon sun followed us as we drove up onto Second Mesa, the home of the Hopi. The village homes is kind of scattered without any rhyme of reason. I had met a few tribe members last year and I was hoping they might magically appear in front of the car. The muddy road wound around the stone houses and there was a little surprise around every corner in the way of a barking dog. As we worked our way around a series of homes I head the sound of someone chopping firewood. Two Hopi Indians had a large pile of wood that needed to be split. I got out and asked them if anyone was selling any Native American wares. The one fella went into his house and came out with a bag full of rattles. The brilliant colors on the large gourd rattle matched their colorful handles. The beads inside the rattles made a nice sound and a few of us bought their wares and did a small dance around the mesa to celebrate.<br /><br />We had a bit of a drive to Canyon de Chelly on the Navajo reservation. The weather was holding perfect with clear skies as we drove onto the reservation. We checked into a motel and still had time to check out the visitor center on the rim of the canyon. The whole area is owned by th Navajo nation and you can’t drive down into the canyon without a Navajo guide. I drove down <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXlSB15q_S_8D63x8XYf0BnP4AfFaLbfo4Aga8_ngsX7SAlW7AsCWtZI0DZ8fq7byTd34KrJfY5e5Lx9Rx6Bz06l3HAES_7tdCaoygZbYTxeqNbm1bBcDJkcNMaWOWs2SJ14HCqqgZh8E/s1600/100_2610.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5534983247660044098" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXlSB15q_S_8D63x8XYf0BnP4AfFaLbfo4Aga8_ngsX7SAlW7AsCWtZI0DZ8fq7byTd34KrJfY5e5Lx9Rx6Bz06l3HAES_7tdCaoygZbYTxeqNbm1bBcDJkcNMaWOWs2SJ14HCqqgZh8E/s400/100_2610.jpg" border="0" /></a>last year with a guide in my 4 wheel drive truck and I didn’t think I would every get out of the boggy mess so we would skip that part this time.<br /><br />The next morning I drove our group along the rim and stopped at different spots to explore and take pictures. The canyon below the rim held beautiful sights with a occasional Navajo farm laid out below. Numerous signs explained that no one could enter the canyon without a Navajo guide. Biagio wanted to know what it would hurt if he entered without a guide. With tongue in cheek I told him an arrow in his back might hurt a tad.<br /><br />After a few hours of exploring we all drove towards Moab Utah and Canyon Land National Park. I saw a road sign pointing to Valley of the Gods, which sounded interesting because I wondered where the Gods hung out. The road was covered with loose gravel but it was in nice shape without many ruts. The high walls of red rocks crowned the road as we worked our way down the valley. The Italians couldn’t believe their eyes to come across such a perfect example of Utah at it’s best. I drove for about fifteen minutes and then parked the car so all could get out and <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3s6uowPyOSP5caoDlJ16k98a-Fq3BAHa5tqsBBMoRZadEXlVtpyZLovDIfYRbtG8pSGioD3KEsHrvESLSHhuu3wGn3QBJiTLuYa0YZzpeXQ9AgsfD3qNroQ8BT4lzWnxXM2m5noC8GlA/s1600/100_2625.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5534982413215397362" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3s6uowPyOSP5caoDlJ16k98a-Fq3BAHa5tqsBBMoRZadEXlVtpyZLovDIfYRbtG8pSGioD3KEsHrvESLSHhuu3wGn3QBJiTLuYa0YZzpeXQ9AgsfD3qNroQ8BT4lzWnxXM2m5noC8GlA/s400/100_2625.jpg" border="0" /></a>stretch the legs and bend the neck looking at all the magnificent sights.<br /><br />By dinner time we had pulled into Moab and got settled into our motel. This was a good place to do some laundry and use the internet for email. We had enough food in the coolers for a dinner in our room and we had a nice bedside dinner.<br /><br />The next morning I drove the group up along the Colorado River towards Cisco. A cold weather pattern had pushed it’s way onto some warm weather so fog was along the river. Looking through the lens of our <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwKbHDD4y5mw-xwuitAxFscmTSrW-lbCkM-kqO6yichQS3MERzUqYzoo6BAIN9V5FKPteQlJLVXRZcEURpuphjizIPt7daLcNXXQe_3fexgUzzaoDX3QK8nGE7bNj_nCWsY7Fupo87cYs/s1600/100_2603.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5534982848932326434" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwKbHDD4y5mw-xwuitAxFscmTSrW-lbCkM-kqO6yichQS3MERzUqYzoo6BAIN9V5FKPteQlJLVXRZcEURpuphjizIPt7daLcNXXQe_3fexgUzzaoDX3QK8nGE7bNj_nCWsY7Fupo87cYs/s400/100_2603.jpg" border="0" /></a>camera’s made the surrounding canyon walls look even better. I followed the road up into Arches National Park. A thin layer of fresh snow covered all the large monoliths <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiToxk8VSKi9drGnerIgn0PydPZwWj_RzqaWYr3lw1TyUrjvRG-ikBAgkxR67Yow8XbvcXpqvNzL7de3TZFeqNtcLsSm_4Enn-nFlkDv_R4b07pqhIWvtfo1Y8jZBUDMwdJfN3IqAnQqTU/s1600/100_2647.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5534982048339703938" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiToxk8VSKi9drGnerIgn0PydPZwWj_RzqaWYr3lw1TyUrjvRG-ikBAgkxR67Yow8XbvcXpqvNzL7de3TZFeqNtcLsSm_4Enn-nFlkDv_R4b07pqhIWvtfo1Y8jZBUDMwdJfN3IqAnQqTU/s400/100_2647.jpg" border="0" /></a>and arches. We decided to walk to Delicate Arch and have a look see. After passing a small pioneer cabin the trail got steeper and muddy. After a few hours of walking we came around a curve and there was Utah’s famous Delicate Arch. After a few pictures where taken it was a race to get back to the car and have lunch.<br /><br />Dave Guzy decided that he had seen enough and was going to drive back to Denver from here. We loaded his truck with all the camping gear from the Grand Canyon. With limited space we had to tie some of our gear on top of our car. We had the look of the Beverly Hill Hillbillies as we headed towards Colorado.<br /><br />As we drove higher into the mountains the snow got deeper along side the car. The town of Ouray would be our final resting stop for tonight. This is a old mining town that is known now for <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1l0hy4p64XNU2RTVg0Fb9RvrNaaUEEP8BcHeyvKk0vAU1gx580z_nJX6Mdm7rQQ8vp7SQMwdtrOKc80U-7zrqU3HQcH8f1mM1zTYwuuDt9BYDjkJrUMSWSAstLoHvNpviscwC4K2OSBo/s1600/100_2663.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5534981656018563570" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1l0hy4p64XNU2RTVg0Fb9RvrNaaUEEP8BcHeyvKk0vAU1gx580z_nJX6Mdm7rQQ8vp7SQMwdtrOKc80U-7zrqU3HQcH8f1mM1zTYwuuDt9BYDjkJrUMSWSAstLoHvNpviscwC4K2OSBo/s400/100_2663.jpg" border="0" /></a>it’s ice climbing on a frozen waterfall. As we walked to dinner a lite snow fell on our shoulders. Red Mountain Pass a little farther south was closed but that wouldn’t effect our travels until the day after tomorrow. We found a small little restaurant and had a fine meal. With cold crisp night air on our cheeks, it was fun walking along the old store fronts and have a peak at the goodies inside.<br /><br />The next morning Mel, Giorgio, Biagio and myself got on our skiing cloths for our downhill <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj10TMDRJZjuSASlpe0EDNrKrHmFonudwBZz3eWg9uJtlL72RC3kafR1eU3zBVm43oaD0rYd32sEfUgbjxn33I0e-ksmP_tbpeHJdXimjGFYS2fa6JZ6Bfd1LkrK6rzhgrFQuuKzqMbDX4/s1600/100_2677.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5534981244527294418" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj10TMDRJZjuSASlpe0EDNrKrHmFonudwBZz3eWg9uJtlL72RC3kafR1eU3zBVm43oaD0rYd32sEfUgbjxn33I0e-ksmP_tbpeHJdXimjGFYS2fa6JZ6Bfd1LkrK6rzhgrFQuuKzqMbDX4/s400/100_2677.jpg" border="0" /></a>adventure at Telluride. The town is also a old mining town with heaps of history. Butch Cassidy robbed his first back here. The rest of the gang could wander around as we skied our legs off. It was a real job getting all the Italians outfitted in their ski equipment. It was a bit pricey, but how many times would they get to ski Telluride. Maybe old Butch Cassidy robbed the bank in order to ski here we all thought! We all made plans with the non skiers to meet at a local place for lunch and then off we went. We had a great day of skiing, with blue clear skies. Everyone had a different style and speed but mostly we just wanted to get down the slope in one piece.<br /><br />This morning we woke to a few inches of new snow but not enough to worry about. I took everybody to the frozen waterfalls that ice climbers come to from all over the world. Then I <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD7ILEjismdvZzBHtyohPDXk5Vt7yyhtjaA3DDk6pumXr808E0aBIM6H1fWG1yRBqs00aqFQM8mE9BLJOr5071lC9rxJPsk6aSp9BaAfMdKGEFaLPxrqxoYmxaUmA9wT9PBVdFTWFpJeg/s1600/100_2679.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5534980659722083650" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD7ILEjismdvZzBHtyohPDXk5Vt7yyhtjaA3DDk6pumXr808E0aBIM6H1fWG1yRBqs00aqFQM8mE9BLJOr5071lC9rxJPsk6aSp9BaAfMdKGEFaLPxrqxoYmxaUmA9wT9PBVdFTWFpJeg/s400/100_2679.jpg" border="0" /></a>started the drive up over Red Mountain Pass. The views on top are breath taking. We stopped at the old mining town of Silverton and looked at a few of the old buildings.<br /><br />The town of Durango would be our lunch spot today. An old hotel with a ancient saloon would make perfect lunch spot. As we all sat around a large around table, a bar girl wearing a outfit from the 1800's with a low cut blouse came and sat on Biagio’s lap. He had the look as if he had died and gone to heaven. After all the lap sitting for the male’s in our party we all went on a tour of the upper floors of the old hotel. I skipped the lap part since I am married! Ha ha When it was time to leave I had to almost yell fire to get everybody out the door. I made reservations for dinner tomorrow night with more cute bar girls as a money raiser for the historical society.<br /><br />We had spent so much time on the entertainment at the hotel it ate into our sightseeing time at Mesa Verde National Park. The drive can be quite long to get to the first exhibit of the Anasazi Indians that lived in the area thousands of years ago. By 4:00 pm we finally made it to the visitor center and a ancient site that we could visit. The walk down to the site was steep but well worth the time with a under ground kiva that could be visited. After our tour we all walked through the visitor center and got idea of how big the area was and how many people had lived here.<br /><br />Now we had a long drive to Pagosa Springs where we would stay and unwind a bit. We drove to our motel in the dark and many elk where beside the road and it was a blessing to get home with out a elk becoming a hood ornament. After surviving our driving trip home we decide to cancel the dinner at the hotel with the cutie bar girls tomorrow. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvlUDBMO5Vph1NK_JG2gCuAbIakfHQBeS1HHhTq8TE-BsZQUPU1dd68CWeJymSv1VredIbGedknb_UYLo9wRj3VUPNWqOf-1BP7Oaem2fgxklcUhaJgaanPlDWC_q7dRnpGcODy_4TIas/s1600/100_2622.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5535003049671273714" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvlUDBMO5Vph1NK_JG2gCuAbIakfHQBeS1HHhTq8TE-BsZQUPU1dd68CWeJymSv1VredIbGedknb_UYLo9wRj3VUPNWqOf-1BP7Oaem2fgxklcUhaJgaanPlDWC_q7dRnpGcODy_4TIas/s320/100_2622.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br />In Pagosa Springs only four of us made dinner while two decided to hang in the motel rooms and watch some television. I found a small Italian restaurant that didn’t know what to make of our group. The menu didn’t make any sense to the Italians either. Items on the menu meant something completely different then what it meant in the old country. Biagio made the announcement that there wasn’t a real Italian within a mile of this town.<br /><br />The next day I had plans on skiing Wolf Creek Pass but the Italian’s heart wasn’t in riding the boards down the hill. I took them to the ski slope but we just walked around and found out prices. It was just as well because a few members of my fine group got lite headed at the high elevation.<br /><br />The town of Pagosa Springs has a first rate hot springs and we would spend the afternoon soaking our aching bones in the hot water.<br /><br />The next morning I knew my group needed a little more rest, so I suggested we skip Crested Butt ski area and go directly to Westcliffe where I have access to a cabin. This put a smile on everybody’s face. Along the way we stopped at Alamosa and used their library for some over do email. At Fort Garland we went on a tour of the old fort where Kit Carson lived for a few years. Right next door was a older restaurant that had a wonderful lunch menu and after sampling a few dishes we ordered.<br /><br />I knew a short cut to the Wet Mountain Valley but it involved driving on a back road. In this case the road was snow packed and there just enough room for our big machine to plow through. Snow was spraying off the fenders as we worked our way over the pass. The sight of a paved road was a welcome sight. By 3:00 pm I drove up the mountain road that lead to the cabin. The <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtY8KxeADAXnLokj-N8eiEFyvGxqsS5ErjXUewPYTgbRjkXZit-AK0CuQ9IOw5ovBmOBI5MUsWuWvI7IBxt7iY3i54VRkZ8RZXrSJ9wEv_7GqfbT-zE6uSQ7_hjLZ3wpl1zUr0gfO9-30/s1600/100_2662.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5535003560727313122" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtY8KxeADAXnLokj-N8eiEFyvGxqsS5ErjXUewPYTgbRjkXZit-AK0CuQ9IOw5ovBmOBI5MUsWuWvI7IBxt7iY3i54VRkZ8RZXrSJ9wEv_7GqfbT-zE6uSQ7_hjLZ3wpl1zUr0gfO9-30/s320/100_2662.jpg" border="0" /></a>views from the cabin is breath taking to say the least. Everybody was so glad to be settled in one place for a few days. While I turned on the water and the hot water heater my friends made out a food shopping list. It only had one problem, it was written in Italian. The one item that was very important that was on their list was a good size bone with a bit of meat attached. The <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2JHWUxVqQD6HnaYfzVAJ-oDWq2wCDjYPueWwaNjHTWgWz7coYEVnkA97QPBYRiXpX6wDfjdOucj5VKIOueU0uZw74voaPyGTUvq2Nt9lk1Ci1E9tfak7cLdnY5_h3cv0lv41xqMTJGrA/s1600/100_2672.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5534980208082703314" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2JHWUxVqQD6HnaYfzVAJ-oDWq2wCDjYPueWwaNjHTWgWz7coYEVnkA97QPBYRiXpX6wDfjdOucj5VKIOueU0uZw74voaPyGTUvq2Nt9lk1Ci1E9tfak7cLdnY5_h3cv0lv41xqMTJGrA/s400/100_2672.jpg" border="0" /></a>women wanted to cook this bone with onions all day to make lovey broth. Then this broth would be poured over a bed of rice with seasoning. The grocery store in this small town isn’t the largest <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqikNlbnH48OfVG0w4oQ5qGJfH9ZYuBlOZlo1oqrHw9ma4bAAlQhWI47-lfY5CVVy5qxKK4dbmlURbXO5l4Xnfjqzheb57in0xKmpzhdZF4mXOjxKIBQzsaYe93Ulk2nyceZUhr_TGsNw/s1600/100_2481.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5534979822423819074" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqikNlbnH48OfVG0w4oQ5qGJfH9ZYuBlOZlo1oqrHw9ma4bAAlQhWI47-lfY5CVVy5qxKK4dbmlURbXO5l4Xnfjqzheb57in0xKmpzhdZF4mXOjxKIBQzsaYe93Ulk2nyceZUhr_TGsNw/s400/100_2481.jpg" border="0" /></a>by any stretch of the imagination. The butcher did everything in his power to find a bone that <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiga7nIdFuetGnJfuGqHq9r-pN2A0YpxoP2BJnXwjU1n_UptHafglmkekFK9L79NAPk9QIJvlsrhHKv9ZKbHDu_xymr65cVg0BayOtJI4e6Qed1S8nQM_l6E9g6OltpItXDo6EeYMc7lzk/s1600/100_2684.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5534692095050117986" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiga7nIdFuetGnJfuGqHq9r-pN2A0YpxoP2BJnXwjU1n_UptHafglmkekFK9L79NAPk9QIJvlsrhHKv9ZKbHDu_xymr65cVg0BayOtJI4e6Qed1S8nQM_l6E9g6OltpItXDo6EeYMc7lzk/s400/100_2684.jpg" border="0" /></a>would meet the standards of my friends. At the end I think he sprayed red paint on a old soup bone out of the dog dish and called it good. As the women cooked dinner, Biagio, Mel and I walked outdoors to observe the night skies with all the stars shining bright. Mel pointed a to a bright star that can be seen in Italy. Mel explained since he was older and had lived through the Second World War, that star meant something special to him. When his parents where sure that Milan was going to be bombed by the Allied they sent the youngster Mel to live with his grandfather on the farm in the country to be safe. Mel was very young and didn’t want to leave his parents side, they told him to look at this star every evening at 9:00 pm and they would do the same in Milan and that way they would be in each others heart.<br /><br />The next morning I took part of the gang to a mountain located behind the cabin for a bit of the stretch of the legs. While we climbed, the women folk got busy cooking the lunch with this bone. As we gained in elevation on our little mountain we had a great vantage point to see the Sangre de Cristos across the valley. I found a different route to come down off the mountain and we came to a fresh mountain lion kill site of a deer. Our group was fascinated with the results of the power of the mountain lion.<br /><br />The next morning we all got ready for a trip to Monarch ski area. Georgio, Mel, Biagio and I where the only ones that where going to ski. The prices where a lot better then Telluride. Half the group because of age got to ski for free and the skis and boots rental where cheap. We all had a grand day skiing and then all got together for a lunch break. The snow and weather couldn’t have been any better.<br /><br /><br />I stopped at the Salida Hot Springs, where again just part of us got into the soothing hot spring water. We had a ball just floating around in the pools and just watched the other bathers do same. A local Italian restaurant with a cold beer finished off a perfect day. By the time we got back in the vehicle the skies had opened up and it started to snow. I drove through a snow storm all the way home without a peep from my passengers. There was a big cheer though when I pulled into the garage, since we had made it home without any problemos!<br /><br />The next morning we would drive south to Santa Fe, New Mexico. Along I-25 I pulled into the Fort Union National Monument so every one could have a look at a old time fort. The museum with all it’s information about the Santa Fe Trail was just what the doctor ordered. After the tour <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggnVSREDVlN7jyqRzZWHmDDO2ue6CAcNhehAzZDdlUqnYgFjrXZEeTp2fZEiWa_DIjgvj94GJgpqSIKSQXy77iiylKKzUhYWNrLTKugiHn7X_HAlDrhecZ-X4b2gJFcJFPOffb9rYg89k/s1600/100_2686.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5534694110933406978" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggnVSREDVlN7jyqRzZWHmDDO2ue6CAcNhehAzZDdlUqnYgFjrXZEeTp2fZEiWa_DIjgvj94GJgpqSIKSQXy77iiylKKzUhYWNrLTKugiHn7X_HAlDrhecZ-X4b2gJFcJFPOffb9rYg89k/s400/100_2686.jpg" border="0" /></a>we broke out the food for one of our grand picnic’s and I asked two girls that we meet from Colorado to join us. They had both been to Italy so there much to talk about with the group.<br /><br />Later on in the day we stopped at Pecos Monument and had another tour with plenty of things to look at and discover. By dinner time we pulled into Santa Fe and found our motel.<br /><br /><br />The next morning we drove south to Albuquerque and I took them to Old Town. I dropped them off and I drove to the airport to pick up Pam my wife that was going to join us.<br /><br />When Pam and I got back my friends had bought a large arrangement of flowers and gave them to Pam. Pam had bought each and everyone a different fetish and she handed them out with the meaning of the fetish attached. After lunch we all walked around old town and window shopped.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBKe9k4faoeroVVYiHlUOesFCfMRzqyc0C3N9bBN4w6inmxGbK9ALZ8TI_sIoazsM6mLiF0aPfz8IOg5M-Pw4X90-nCh3Np18o2ng-l3VfoVSd4hyphenhyphenPhNGvO9cs6RaW5OcQ5azIk2EOtIk/s1600/100_2694.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5534692758404266834" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBKe9k4faoeroVVYiHlUOesFCfMRzqyc0C3N9bBN4w6inmxGbK9ALZ8TI_sIoazsM6mLiF0aPfz8IOg5M-Pw4X90-nCh3Np18o2ng-l3VfoVSd4hyphenhyphenPhNGvO9cs6RaW5OcQ5azIk2EOtIk/s400/100_2694.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />As we drove back to Santa Fe we all talked about dinner and where we should go, since there is so many choices in town. Pam selected a good place and we had fun eating and talking for few hours.<br /><br />The next day we toured Santa Fe and looked at all the Native America handy work. At lunch we stopped at a famous Hotel La Fonda and they had a excellent buffet. That night we walked along the old street of the town and looked at the sky and the shine from the street lights.<br /><br />The next day we drove north towards Taos but we stopped at Los Alamos and had a look at the museum dedicated to the making of the atomic bomb. Then we stopped by Ojo Cliente hot springs for just a look without getting our bodes wet. For lunch we stopped at Chimayo de Rancho for lunch and had the best time with the food and the atmosphere of the old ranch. Then we drove into Taos and checked into our motel for the night.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzqtJorHisZqHos5-V-MiUjigYTTv7AjYS9409SgT2OeF6Zsu_DMHpya76N4zwgVbtslArOzs13H9Dxq59Czi-SWAIsWZCwBLYiyuCgBlvwgqFFbBhk2tuBDUOEsbUKuDuAM3djfwaKkI/s1600/100_2689.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5534690880607052162" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzqtJorHisZqHos5-V-MiUjigYTTv7AjYS9409SgT2OeF6Zsu_DMHpya76N4zwgVbtslArOzs13H9Dxq59Czi-SWAIsWZCwBLYiyuCgBlvwgqFFbBhk2tuBDUOEsbUKuDuAM3djfwaKkI/s400/100_2689.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />The next morning we drove to the Pueblo de Taos where the Tewa Indians have lived for centuries. We hired a guide that gave us information about the pueblo and then I would try and explain what she had said to Biagio, which in turn would tell his friends in Italian.<br /><br />Within a few hours we where all in Denver and it seemed like just minutes since I had left four weeks ago, the tour was that much fun. The night before my friends where ready <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtEOrMSZLFpfDtqZahz7w4pflxvxyIFJ9aWJvua9l43uv0T9CuRrwPKIMv_3PRlVcLUEVVhdJ0oBkA38-9AZvJeO2UlFgR4CHigRHVzEE6SjNv1llpm_yvQUP2u9DLfcE7kNNMtB-6oUY/s1600/100_2700.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5534691590727566482" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtEOrMSZLFpfDtqZahz7w4pflxvxyIFJ9aWJvua9l43uv0T9CuRrwPKIMv_3PRlVcLUEVVhdJ0oBkA38-9AZvJeO2UlFgR4CHigRHVzEE6SjNv1llpm_yvQUP2u9DLfcE7kNNMtB-6oUY/s400/100_2700.jpg" border="0" /></a>to board their plane back to Milan Italy we had a big dinner. One of our dinner guests told Biagio about when his father fought the Second World War in Italy. So when it time came to give a toast, Biagio said that everybody didn’t agree with Mussolini and he was just crazy.<br /><br />Our time together was so much fun and entertaining for all parties. But I think everybody was ready to go home after all this time away from home</div></div></div>vince vogelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09409914685847755131noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-113513403868397494.post-70180737018699542852010-09-11T08:18:00.000-07:002014-02-07T14:00:02.843-08:00The Colorado Trail and back 940 miles!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHy9M6q2FPc2itjZO_vqzthfidPbRpvCZLn4kETezden2owi2B6fMXooiSPoaYcWOzRS2NAF5BSVYoWfuSjGpC75BHnhISPEJsMNoLFDVgJ0PlXeLcF_7tjfeepMiHhFkUn5HQ0GZwFbU/s1600/100_7967.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5515805806143970306" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHy9M6q2FPc2itjZO_vqzthfidPbRpvCZLn4kETezden2owi2B6fMXooiSPoaYcWOzRS2NAF5BSVYoWfuSjGpC75BHnhISPEJsMNoLFDVgJ0PlXeLcF_7tjfeepMiHhFkUn5HQ0GZwFbU/s400/100_7967.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div>This adventure happened seven years ago between July-Aug 2003<br />Thirty four years ago I met the MAN–the father of the Colorado Trail, Mr. Bill Lucas. His daughter was going to school at Colorado State University and I gave her a ride home and got to met him. Mr. Lucas was a big fan of the European trail system and wanted to start one in Colorado. Bill and I aren’t exactly drinking buddies, but casually knowing the founder put the CT into a special place in my heart. When the maps of the trail were first published many moons ago, I went out and bought them. I have opened and closed the maps so many times the creases became gaps, where my dreams were held tight. Then in January of 2003, I was standing on top <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaaFQB7a65tBVI6T-34By8dEC8x6lk05CCrpUOUH1kbFOG5oM_Y4KizMcuOCBxaycUsvunmzVl51FPQaX0GWX7yS9fyo_HwTnpUNIJOwW8zetH5f61E9G-glKFOz1w2q7kYDIe76HL8Hs/s1600/100_1366.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5515802265352817762" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaaFQB7a65tBVI6T-34By8dEC8x6lk05CCrpUOUH1kbFOG5oM_Y4KizMcuOCBxaycUsvunmzVl51FPQaX0GWX7yS9fyo_HwTnpUNIJOwW8zetH5f61E9G-glKFOz1w2q7kYDIe76HL8Hs/s320/100_1366.jpg" border="0" /></a>of a mountain in New Zealand, the gaps in the maps must have let my dreams slip though. Because there I was standing on a mountain peak looking down at all the heavenly bliss that N Z has to offer, when the thoughts of the CT began to come into focus.<br />Reviewing the literature about the CT when I returned to Denver, in March was like visiting a favorite uncle-the story teller one. The trail will start for me in Denver and will end in Durango, for a total length of 468 miles. I will pass through seven national forests and traverse five major rivers systems and hike over eight mountain ranges. That’s just before lunch!! Water or the lack of it, on some trails and the abundance during summer storms will have to be considered. Lighting strikes, with afternoon storms are guaranteed to light up my life. The CT handbook breaks the walk into 28 sections that range from 11 miles to 32 miles. The data book is a must have, for your water source locations if nothing else.<br />The date of July 15th 2003 seemed to work out for getting my adventure underway. This date wasn’t anything special it just seemed to work for me and once I had told enough people, I knew <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBZDGiw3lXmcHWImWoPpzFGuw9Wqxz6862ChgM-M8cItr1bVRpzSWtIt9-7HnUBhHUHWQVDCA5JlzpczGu6TeMMdM44ZVyWoOk05JMiJE3wFUxpa0ssLzfdsmOtEbDH3jwRkNhkFmzWLQ/s1600/100_1309.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5515802012154240066" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBZDGiw3lXmcHWImWoPpzFGuw9Wqxz6862ChgM-M8cItr1bVRpzSWtIt9-7HnUBhHUHWQVDCA5JlzpczGu6TeMMdM44ZVyWoOk05JMiJE3wFUxpa0ssLzfdsmOtEbDH3jwRkNhkFmzWLQ/s320/100_1309.jpg" border="0" /></a>there would be no turning back. The reaction of people when you first tell them of your plans to walk 486 miles are as different as the people. I asked Pam my wife if she had any interest in walking to Durango? “I have no burning desire to walk 468 miles-thank you very much!” she said. Lots of people simply changed the subject, as if to say sorry we don’t discuss religion, politics and crazy ass ideas. The logistics of food preparation and storage are two of the biggest problems of any extended walks. The availability of supplies is always numero uno for questions asked by folks that I met at trail heads. I needed to buy supplies for a month, so my food gathering got started at Sam’s Club in Arvada. Breakfast cereal, in bulk, was the economically way to go. With gallon zip-lock bags, I could break it down into six, five day breakfast serving. Swiss-Miss chocolate drink packets would also come in handy. Last but not least, I boiled five <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_VWn8Y6WcY57ZidOlM0rXgSLF4elqWDAkX5aOMR9aIYa2M5yzVnndGOVgI62NaGWsOpFFk_8HYdZZTrsNMyVUXxe_whJQov3RuqLyAgL7zzhnKzvZ5bVsDj1H2gv3KikVfKS-c7Kp8d4/s1600/100_1277.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5515801695825347330" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_VWn8Y6WcY57ZidOlM0rXgSLF4elqWDAkX5aOMR9aIYa2M5yzVnndGOVgI62NaGWsOpFFk_8HYdZZTrsNMyVUXxe_whJQov3RuqLyAgL7zzhnKzvZ5bVsDj1H2gv3KikVfKS-c7Kp8d4/s320/100_1277.jpg" border="0" /></a>dozen eggs. Boiled eggs, if the shell isn’t broken, will last a long time if stored in a cool area. My menu consisted of Roma noodles, dried tuna and some dried vegetables. At breakfast I would layer the noodles, tuna and dried vegetables into a thermos and than pour hot water into it. By lunch time, tuna casserole would be on my menu. Dinner varied from a T-Bone dream or a hamburger with side order of fantasy. But in a reality, I would mix egg noodles with dried vegetables and than add summer sausage. Cooked in fifteen minutes and with the right seasonings, it tasted like a steak in my dreams. My storage was accomplished with the use of five gallon plastic paint containers. Each bucket would hold five days worth of meals and then each container would be distributed along the trail.<br /><br />The CT offices are located in Golden Colorado, just ten minutes down the road from my house. I stopped in and had a nice visit with the people of the CT association. Mostly they wanted to know about Tasmania and New Zealand, from their side of the desk, as we sat and talked. Four younger hikers stopped by for information about the trail. The room got real quiet when I asked them if they were going to walk the trail in the 28 days, just as the data book had laid out. The secretary with everyone else explained that the 28 segments were just between trail heads, and didn’t necessarily mean a segment a day was normal. I laughed just as loud as the rest of the finger pointing sceptics, since I didn’t want to show my ignorance.<br /><br />Section 1# July 15th-15.4 miles- 8 hrs elevation gain 2,160 feet <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwqfwXZTdJ3_CASPYQhUYq9H2KfauPpN3MgtePJdcnU2dStuTZf8hHu3c3nlDFch6MT2gBryXm15tU2MjULEeZEI3_CADyk-Uzq8oSHblLw0QqpLDIGOiAkQebntUMl5osxStgfrmv1Go/s1600/100_1201.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5515801422210259794" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwqfwXZTdJ3_CASPYQhUYq9H2KfauPpN3MgtePJdcnU2dStuTZf8hHu3c3nlDFch6MT2gBryXm15tU2MjULEeZEI3_CADyk-Uzq8oSHblLw0QqpLDIGOiAkQebntUMl5osxStgfrmv1Go/s320/100_1201.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />On the morning of July 15th, I was ready with gear and food. Since most of my travels of late have been on the other side of the world, starting at Waterton Canyon in Colorado felt–weird. Pat Phillips and Dave Christy volunteered to hike with me on the first day. Normally I fly to a destination to hike and it takes 14 hours, but with Pat’s heavy foot we arrived in 45 minutes. Pat and Dave’s game plan was to bicycle along the South Platte corridor until the Colorado Trail started and then secure their bicycles and then walk until noon. Dave had removed his front wheel of his bicycle to transport it and left it leaning against his garage. Pat would be the lone Lance Armstrong of the road as Dave and I walked along the rushing river. Dave was accurate in his observation as we gazed at the full moon. “You are starting in a full moon and you will finish in Durango in a full month!” Dave said. The white plastic markers of the CT was just ahead nailed to a tree, it would be the first of a thousand markers that became my beacon. Like a pizza for a college students, or prunes for senior citizens that what these little plastic insignias came to represent.<br /><br />After hiking for a few hours we decided to take a break along a rocky ridge. The crest must have been a magnet because four mountain bikers were parked there. Pat mentioned to the group of my plans to walk to Durango. The look on those biker’s gave an understanding of what kind of adventure I had ahead of me. I hadn’t given it much thought–the distance–the time and the many mountains. I am one of those people that only thinks in the present, not that I don’t plan for the future, but I don’t think of the many discomforts that may come up on the trail. One fella actually set his bicycle down and came over and said, “I want to shake the hand of the man that’s <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjybEFOuIGtC3l9AP_rFAdCvJgERhWWrgVKy06TznqSjKv1DilgxGQEuSAc6NLxVIx2C4YXobZy0QpqOaJwQj2eXcA-9BbJjrvP0GuBtYGSswShzX3diN_ocmD5SC0T2kyEwOpSdHeFF0c/s1600/100_4027002.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5515800676362757538" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjybEFOuIGtC3l9AP_rFAdCvJgERhWWrgVKy06TznqSjKv1DilgxGQEuSAc6NLxVIx2C4YXobZy0QpqOaJwQj2eXcA-9BbJjrvP0GuBtYGSswShzX3diN_ocmD5SC0T2kyEwOpSdHeFF0c/s320/100_4027002.jpg" border="0" /></a>walking to Durango!” Boy there was no turning around now! The forest in the next section sure did show the damage from the big spring snow storm. On both sides of the trail, branches and in some cases whole trees were laying on the ground.<br /><br />Two hikers were standing in the middle of the trail talking when we approached them. The couple were from Minnesota and had planned on walking the CT all the way to Durango. “Had planned” is the key word. The wife’s quench for water and visions of the 460 miles of thin air sucking lungs clouded her dreams. I suggested that they hang out around the South Platte Canyon trail head, until the Mrs gets here mojo in the right gear. All kinds of emotions were hanging in the air as we stared at each other in disappointment and irritation was prevailing. Trying to make best of a bad situation the husband said’ “We got a start on it for next year!” “That’s true!” I said. “Next time you only have 460 miles instead of 468!” I explained. One piece of CT gossip that was told to me concerned the three men ahead of me walking the length of the <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlezxo2p0enS77JkOlddKMiXGeoh7nJPdU3-ZlSDh-OI3-bTTSnNAo9sTII9gH6h1htqvxfd0EOezaIyLx-EiLLpLHhXncWN_Gp37EQzR3w8YbcaNdLYTTqzd8kDaaj6sMZbLQrHNC9UM/s1600/101_1623.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5515800232644496386" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlezxo2p0enS77JkOlddKMiXGeoh7nJPdU3-ZlSDh-OI3-bTTSnNAo9sTII9gH6h1htqvxfd0EOezaIyLx-EiLLpLHhXncWN_Gp37EQzR3w8YbcaNdLYTTqzd8kDaaj6sMZbLQrHNC9UM/s320/101_1623.JPG" border="0" /></a>trail. This couple had met them and found out that these three amigos had walked the Appalachian Trail last year. Little did I know that these fellas would shadow me until Durango.<br /><br />My group had hiked ten miles and we were able to see the burned out trees from the Buffalo Creek Fire on the distant mountains. The rocky ridges lightly decorated with pine trees made for a perfect lunch area. Being a typical July day the temperatures were toasty-roasty. Two hikers from the South Platte just below of us from the west stopped for a chat and a sandwich. The robust man could have been a poster child for Radio Shack. “How far is the river?” I asked. This modern Daniel Boone lifted a gadget and looking it over said “Five point two miles.” he said. Then with a flip of his hand, another whirlygig gadget appeared and he said, “Total gain in <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5jsSaBitEXDk2ddeKkYU4OUeb6A-ks3rZPsKgF_eyRXkRNJtNtbBR72IpCevEs7U42TuWiu0DSmldJ3fPlOrdvhAmWrEzsFpZAFuhogDrlQ9HtjJJZD45L7nvoSiu_-3NThWGO9XfyIU/s1600/100_2380.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5515799007229476018" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5jsSaBitEXDk2ddeKkYU4OUeb6A-ks3rZPsKgF_eyRXkRNJtNtbBR72IpCevEs7U42TuWiu0DSmldJ3fPlOrdvhAmWrEzsFpZAFuhogDrlQ9HtjJJZD45L7nvoSiu_-3NThWGO9XfyIU/s320/100_2380.JPG" border="0" /></a>elevation is 1,250 feet. He looked like a frigging Captain Vito with hiking boots. GPS instrument, cell phone, binoculars and last but not least a clear plastic container for all the extra batteries all hung from this new age explorer. He explained that his wife had dropped his sister and himself off and then she would pick them up at the Waterton Canyon. Dropping him and off was a good excuse, because she didn’t want to be next to him when he turned into a Roman Candle during a lightning storm.<br /><br />Pat and Dave wisely decided a twenty mile round trip was enough hiking for one day. We all knew what we had to do, mine was spelled out by gadget man and Pat and Dave just had to retrace their foot steps. My trail was a twisting descending path that got duster and hotter with each step. My data book listed a camping area at 12.8 miles but without water and the nearest source is 5.2 miles round trip. Sure I am going to stay here. The sound of the South Platte River was music to my ears as visions of laying spread eagle in the water kept my brain from turning <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJyBA4xgSbTd9gJxJ8VvbiYcY_J7N-msHVH2RkYdWsOe_EQv3yv8KjtZpS1r-G3sot4XFj2J8GKZdFGtxFeLABgA4ik8gbxwLjV_JFRwqgMcbuGaZbdbUQMoC1AoTqMSj5quJPHhyTH5U/s1600/100_2334.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5515798623487009458" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJyBA4xgSbTd9gJxJ8VvbiYcY_J7N-msHVH2RkYdWsOe_EQv3yv8KjtZpS1r-G3sot4XFj2J8GKZdFGtxFeLABgA4ik8gbxwLjV_JFRwqgMcbuGaZbdbUQMoC1AoTqMSj5quJPHhyTH5U/s320/100_2334.JPG" border="0" /></a>into vacuum cleaner dust. A ranger with great sense of humor posted a sign that read “ No camping along the whole canyon corridor” Well kiss my split lips! I can’t camp here and the next water is 13 miles and it’s 2:30 pm. Time to change a few rules. Wonder what the rules were about skinny dipping in the river. The dirt road along the river didn’t have car one for a hour as I set up my camp, that is until I dropped my drawers and walked into the river naked to the world. Cars truck, RV and bikers all showed up for the nudie show. After my river show I made my way back to camp, hundred of other campers had made their camps along the river during the years. Under bushes, under rock over hangs, if there was a level piece of ground, you could tell a tent had been set up. My little piece of heaven was just wide enough for my sleeping bag with my butt hanging out on the trail.<br /><br />After dinner I walked down the road to were the old South Platte township site stood. The old wooden building just held ghosts and the sound of the river rushing by echoed off the weather <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8YeFJPl2-JA3iNqR2P3dDs0PQUdN_Z_UJ7RcVyjV3rJjTY0G9B0pBsMx20tymFoTVtfNMvfsDsvJf6M0p1FVQlSAFjmuqOjh497Ftq-tFCWVjCMQfxfh6b_R7WMZ-vDSmE7VqbfKTtjo/s1600/100_5350.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5515683578148710578" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8YeFJPl2-JA3iNqR2P3dDs0PQUdN_Z_UJ7RcVyjV3rJjTY0G9B0pBsMx20tymFoTVtfNMvfsDsvJf6M0p1FVQlSAFjmuqOjh497Ftq-tFCWVjCMQfxfh6b_R7WMZ-vDSmE7VqbfKTtjo/s320/100_5350.jpg" border="0" /></a>wood siding. The river forks and the flows thru a narrow canyon on towards Chatfield Dam and Denver. It felt strange being this close to Denver and home but on one knew exactly were I was or doing. Two giant black ravens swooped down from their rocky perches and landed just several feet from where I sat. They had found a old tin can and it was the object of their attention. The can lid turned into a drum and the ravens beak was the drum sticks. Maybe it’s a morse code message that the ravens were sending me— just stick to the trail and it will lead to Durango, but mostly give us your food to lighten your pack. The afternoon sun had warmed the canyon so much I didn’t need a tent or sleeping bag tonight. Which was good because the zipper on my bag <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg2x8lAqxJyASMF0n9yyzMm9ys4fJkeq-t5OqPexgJYRqJNQ7FvY7DvGS0SWC4jCjgSyEcNlRTA5XqjkXK6fuq-cLLetuuA5ZzJJgF2zOkSQYs6B1Ba4rfZ0Ncai69buUbMXCFFIMU8WQ/s1600/100_2163.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5515797633127808818" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg2x8lAqxJyASMF0n9yyzMm9ys4fJkeq-t5OqPexgJYRqJNQ7FvY7DvGS0SWC4jCjgSyEcNlRTA5XqjkXK6fuq-cLLetuuA5ZzJJgF2zOkSQYs6B1Ba4rfZ0Ncai69buUbMXCFFIMU8WQ/s320/100_2163.jpg" border="0" /></a>gave up the ghost. I was laying on my sleeping pad at about 9:00 pm when 3 girls hikers came strolling by since I was half on the trail, it was hard to miss them.<br /><br />Section #2 July 16th-12.8 miles- 8 hrs-Elev. Gain 2,200<br />Awoke to clear skies and I had a great time sleeping , listening to the river currants make music all night long. My first breakfast on the CT and time to try my new addition in the way of nutritional food. Breakfast bars sounded like something that could take the place of bacon and eggs. The pictures of happy people on the wrapper, hid the fact that these folks were payed money to look cheery and it doesn’t mean they ever tasted the products. One of the first things I noticed when I popped one of the bars in my mouth was the instant sensation of all the moisture being sucked out of my body. The second thing I noticed was I never could swallow the wade, I felt like a cow laying in a field chewing it’s cud. That’s the down side of buying food in bulk, now I am the proud owners of 24 Cud Bars!<br /><br />The three girls from last night were still sacked out in their tent as I tippy toed by at 6:00 am. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOLYkB9leJ0jukWfKSJ8u6xQVjoO0JNrxUd_d-QjA1MeBuGLia2UkIWJbYdoP4bWVr2RetaKbFY7VRA2wjm0XVp8CAW7sk3T5daSV3QdcXk9sOABW40_sbOSWYRZZrnMIVwkrAZ1qLqNo/s1600/100_2677.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5515797047094937762" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOLYkB9leJ0jukWfKSJ8u6xQVjoO0JNrxUd_d-QjA1MeBuGLia2UkIWJbYdoP4bWVr2RetaKbFY7VRA2wjm0XVp8CAW7sk3T5daSV3QdcXk9sOABW40_sbOSWYRZZrnMIVwkrAZ1qLqNo/s320/100_2677.JPG" border="0" /></a>The Buffalo Creek fire of 1996 forever changed the landscape of the 12,000 acres. The fire was started by a forest ranger when she was burning love letters from a long lost love interest. The fire destroyed all shade for the next 7 hours of this up hill hiking. The gravel type ground cover and the large rocks had the look of coming from the center of a volcano because of the intense heat of the forest fire. The early morning sun made the landscape appear to have a burnt orange glow to it. I didn’t need to travel thousands of miles in space, to explore a distant planet, I was walking on a Mars surface right now. With the reflection of the sun off the lunar surface, I got to know what a pizza feels like when it’s being pushed back into a wood burning oven. The sound of a truck tires crushing gravel on a dirt road was a welcoming sound. I could hang out by the road <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ14BmP_t1jGYzq-NkqYDtSnkwgixvGxfGus5Gfo6a3lu1w-pIOBiQUjKKNfKM0SDY5nr6GNXDgtB4JiC8Ot-awiS_4-dgA3SqxCiXG46pbnZrOGT_yDSNn8W_-7dZCjGjrGn9p3Rg0_E/s1600/100_2669.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5515796701384799890" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ14BmP_t1jGYzq-NkqYDtSnkwgixvGxfGus5Gfo6a3lu1w-pIOBiQUjKKNfKM0SDY5nr6GNXDgtB4JiC8Ot-awiS_4-dgA3SqxCiXG46pbnZrOGT_yDSNn8W_-7dZCjGjrGn9p3Rg0_E/s320/100_2669.JPG" border="0" /></a>with my tongue also hanging out, begging for water, since I had been out for a couple hours. The truck turned into a driveway that lead up to a new stucco house right opposite were I stood panting. I stood at the end of the driveway with visions of water . A woman came out and said “ I bet your walking the CT and you are out of water!” “There is a fire house down the road with a water spigot, but if you can’t make it I’ll fill a container!” she said. Come to find out she and her husband had lost the whole ranch during the fire. House, vehicles, and livestock. They had just finished rebuilding. They don’t have to worry about another fire for least I say a hundred years without a tree in sight for miles.<br /><br />The water spigot was on the north shaded side of the fire house and I laid under the running water with my face appreciating the cold water. I don’t know if my brain got frozen from the ice water or cooked by the sun but I hatched a plan. I would drop some of my gear here under a fallen tree and come back later and retrieve it. It’s been warm at night, who needs a tent when I have a small tarp, the sleeping bag is half way broken any way why not drop that also. I was thinking of two things when I was hiking, the weight of the pack and my wife naked, some times not in the that order. Now was my chance to do something about the weight issue of the pack. With a extra reading book, gaters, sleeping bag and tent stuffed in a plastic bag and under a tree, <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw8nO7FWWOQEj8NiOJPa86WO6pIEDD4DdIQfK18PPZ3FXx809BNXeWL6KmgGJ7dQQNtvwrLSzLTPFBbiM_2E7P1TAhYXw-iHHtcWa_zZuXTN4wkKneeqOGvhBCHCAmR_D3So_GvYatjEM/s1600/100_5817.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5515794589591046674" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw8nO7FWWOQEj8NiOJPa86WO6pIEDD4DdIQfK18PPZ3FXx809BNXeWL6KmgGJ7dQQNtvwrLSzLTPFBbiM_2E7P1TAhYXw-iHHtcWa_zZuXTN4wkKneeqOGvhBCHCAmR_D3So_GvYatjEM/s320/100_5817.JPG" border="0" /></a>it just raised spirts a lot higher. As I worked my way back to the trail I passed the truck pulling out of the driveway. The passenger side of the truck window came humming down as a woman stuck her head out the window. “Hey we just wanted to warn you about the wild buffalo that’s running loose in these parts and he’s awfully mean!” she explained. “Bob the neighbor is suppose to have shot it, but I don’t know!” she exclaimed. “As big as a buffalo is you think he would know if he killed a buffalo or not” I said just kidding. As the two woman drove down the road I could hear them jabbering back and forth, about the demise of the beast.<br /><br />At all trail head anywhere in the world you will find the biggest concentrations of out door enthusiasts and their vehicles. This Buffalo Creek trail head # 550 was no exception with numerous cars parked in the shade of the pine trees. I think it has to do with their security and the last line of defense, the automobile. If a huge bear or a squirrel with a attitude is hot on your trail, the thought of a car door being locked behind you is very comforting thought. The CT continued to the right of the parking lot and that’s were I met a couple from Littleton Colorado. “ Where are you headed with that big pack? ‘ asked the fella “Durango on the CT. “ I answered. Looking all excited the man took a deep breath and a whole adventure that had brewing deep in his gut was expelled. “When I do the CT I am going to first raise two lama’s and then I will get the right equipment for the pack animals to carry my gear.” he explained. “I will start in <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimFPGsHVtdxPsOAlEQwfVi0e1fP1tlBl7UGv00tuHkf83fQwnaeZTnjqdo2Ezw3IN5HuMm01R98Z5IiXrZWiJtqFzKwGow9KPCFzNquHcJ7MhGNB6VKh1Gk72YZfUC5m8dsqBLYD04Xu0/s1600/100_3962.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5515794155173330834" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimFPGsHVtdxPsOAlEQwfVi0e1fP1tlBl7UGv00tuHkf83fQwnaeZTnjqdo2Ezw3IN5HuMm01R98Z5IiXrZWiJtqFzKwGow9KPCFzNquHcJ7MhGNB6VKh1Gk72YZfUC5m8dsqBLYD04Xu0/s320/100_3962.jpg" border="0" /></a>Durango because our house is right off the CT, that way I can walk right into our back yard.” said the hiker to be. His wife had the look of “If it’s possible to die from boredom after hearing this story a thousand times-I am on the critical list!” They explained that they were waiting for their son that was riding his mountain bike from the Buffalo Creek drainage with a group of friends. If I happened to see them, I was to give them a heads up on their parents location. It must have been very important for this couple to get their son on the right path because as I walked down the trail I found three notes left along the trail. As a last resort the couple had laid a dead tree across the path with a note attached to the dead limb, that a blind man wearing sun glasses could see.<br /><br />Within a hour of climbing over notes I found a running stream with plenty of water and a level spot for my sleeping pad. High up on the mountain side as I leaned against a rock I noticed a small black bear looking for it’s dinner. As I walked over to the field to have a closer look I noticed a child’s deflated balloon hanging from a small bush by a long blue ribbon. Judging from the inscription on the balloon it must have started it’s journey from Bobbie’s birthday party. The balloon reminded me of a time in the past when my son Matt was selected to release balloons as a memory for the Challenger disaster. Matt’s school with a several other schools decided to have a ceremony at the state capital building in Denver. Matt with several classmates were chosen to release the balloons on the state capital steps. I drove the group down to the capital that windy morning without much conversation in the car between the participants. As we waited on the <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdQWWL0mXfWvmfthnVkIJxXR2DfH6-lUTDF_-icgnphZ6CWoMX24aOGUe3Qsl4L7SeQP4BfIEt-E1IE5sS1ViuD-qBcgdcHrXQnhnc89trhTFl0BVGxWoaiCSVsEOeKSPrOdCqscAtOCE/s1600/100_5926.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5515793861679539106" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdQWWL0mXfWvmfthnVkIJxXR2DfH6-lUTDF_-icgnphZ6CWoMX24aOGUe3Qsl4L7SeQP4BfIEt-E1IE5sS1ViuD-qBcgdcHrXQnhnc89trhTFl0BVGxWoaiCSVsEOeKSPrOdCqscAtOCE/s320/100_5926.JPG" border="0" /></a>steps for the balloons to arrive a white van that had seen better days pulled up. The driver with a cigarette hanging out of the side of his mouth had a devil of a time getting the helium filled balloons from the raged vehicle. I think the balloons were actually holding the old van up off the pavement because the vehicle seemed to sink down a few inches after the balloons were liberated. We tried to control the balloons against the brisk wind and tied poems onto each balloon. Our governor Richard Lamm was scheduled to give a speech just before we released the balloons to the skies. Suddenly the front doors of the capital were flung open and a state trooper with all the bells and whistles in the way of metals and straps walked briskly from the entrance. Right behind his body guard walking like two toy soldiers with arms and legs swings in rhythm was our leader of Colorado. Every one including myself had the same thought I imagine, so this <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFJiN8_UdXJUBsrjZPLcpADFRrLLQNUt9iBuMm0SmQzQJ5LaqkEpuUTQeZhXYeXHNiQOT3uViGJApIAuOmGWenUGN75nZWIa0_-85Wdov-lPiEU6YKAFcelRac5M47iQXJylpKF-pZw1s/s1600/100_0595.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5515793517020123906" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFJiN8_UdXJUBsrjZPLcpADFRrLLQNUt9iBuMm0SmQzQJ5LaqkEpuUTQeZhXYeXHNiQOT3uViGJApIAuOmGWenUGN75nZWIa0_-85Wdov-lPiEU6YKAFcelRac5M47iQXJylpKF-pZw1s/s320/100_0595.jpg" border="0" /></a>what our leader looks like up close. Mr. Lamm’s makeup looked like the state trooper had applied the cosmetics fifteen seconds before this event. The white face powder with extra residue sprinkled on his shoulders reminded me of my sister’s attempt of makeup when we camped out. My sister would take a marsh mellow covered with white sugar powder and dab it on her cheeks. My sis and the governor seemed to use the same technique to high light there lips by biting them to bring out the rosy glow. The state trooper standing tall and straight looked uncomfortable looking over school kids half his size, instead of brazen lawbreaking hoodlums. The governor stepped up to the microphone with a equal nervousness as man that had seconds to prepare for a speech on this solemn occasion. “ The astronauts would want you to continue to study hard. Thank you.” said. Mr Lamm. Just then a big gust of wind caught the bunch of balloons and blew them into tangle of tree branches before they finally broke loose and they flew away. “Maybe the o-rings malfunctioned like on the Challenger!” said Richard Lamm. Which had caused the disaster on the Challenger. Thirty school groups and reporter just stood there in disbelieve of this thoughtless statement. When all the car door were closed and all my kids were in my car, you could cut the mood with a knife. “It doesn’t seem like Mr Lamm was very organized!” said Matt. From the back seat came the comment. “You know what my dad says about our governor, he’s the same as his name “A DICK!” The whole car was filled with laughter as I drove down the road with the capital in our rear view mirror.<br />Yesterday as my buddies and I walked we talked about the trail, with many hiking ideas being bounced off the trees. I mentioned that maybe I could camp out without a tent and just use a <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyP5hoKlfsB3OeozZLkQshMOKCFMSRG7KX6HkL6Neg5g2V0mj91EGWatk_8gGA2yA91Je9x6iA5zYddE6nTt33cqj64x_u-cC4MiJ1RmJ7FkmWxjjs68Ack3wWL2OTTCza6TWH6MRnKT0/s1600/100_0618.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5515793281339427410" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyP5hoKlfsB3OeozZLkQshMOKCFMSRG7KX6HkL6Neg5g2V0mj91EGWatk_8gGA2yA91Je9x6iA5zYddE6nTt33cqj64x_u-cC4MiJ1RmJ7FkmWxjjs68Ack3wWL2OTTCza6TWH6MRnKT0/s320/100_0618.jpg" border="0" /></a>small tarp to save some weight. “If you want to end the drought that has been hanging over the southwest for a few years don’t take a tent.” said Pat. After falling a sleep under a small tarp I woke to a drizzling rain. I kept moving towards the center of the sleeping pad but the wind kept moving the wet weather as a bit of Chinese water torture. So when the lawns of Denver got greener they needed to send me a thank you note. After a few hours of being tormented, I decided to walk back to my cache of sleeping bag and tent. This could prove interesting with a late night hike or early morning at 2:30 am. Being pitch black, I was hoping the neighbor Bob had killed that buffalo and I didn’t become a head line in the Denver Post newspaper. By 4:30 am I was back at my camp and set up the tent and then climbed into my sleeping bag.<br /><br />Section #3 July 17th-13.5 miles/ 8 hrs/ elev gain 1,520 feet<br />After catching a few hours of sleep, I awoke to the bugle of a elk behind the tent. The morning was clear with a warm wind as I headed towards Lost Creek Wilderness area. My morning break <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm8yP4AR_hxcjnwkbHRMvHVwYWh7tcdRhwNYpOD0ZfVLEJ0aMejvGOsc8d5tZ-ZUPTT6AJnEdYYJjkoHc9gliwCXfhlUFfc6s-SfMhGd5tIzyOofROR-XCgQrCZpOD5eZ-PhFaVsYzwnQ/s1600/100_5811.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5515792937984841410" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm8yP4AR_hxcjnwkbHRMvHVwYWh7tcdRhwNYpOD0ZfVLEJ0aMejvGOsc8d5tZ-ZUPTT6AJnEdYYJjkoHc9gliwCXfhlUFfc6s-SfMhGd5tIzyOofROR-XCgQrCZpOD5eZ-PhFaVsYzwnQ/s320/100_5811.JPG" border="0" /></a>had a vantage point above the trail that lead to Lake Wellington. I could oversee the trail filled with mountain bikers with out the bikers seeing me. They seemed to be having a great time with laughing and cheering. Within a few miles I would be in Lost Creek Wilderness and have solitude from any biker. Wilderness areas don’t allow any mechanical types of equipment, so bikes will be out. This area was know as a hide out for bandito in the 1800's. I had a one eye opened for any lost treasures that be left behind by stage coach robbers. Late afternoon I heard the sound of gurgling water coming out of a hill side. I dropped my pack and found a small level spot for my tent. The water was so cold a vapor rose above the moving water. My campsite below a large Ponderosa pine made a perfect sheltered site. After dinner I witnessed two deer as they ate their way through tender green bushes along the trail.<br /><br />Section #4 18.8 miles/ 10 hrs /elev gain 2,840<br />For five hours this morning I worked my way up to the a level section and then it slowly descended. I hiked out into the trees and onto a open section known as Long Gulch. This valley was covered with flowers and waist deep grass. As I ate my lunch leaning against a fallen tree, I meet my first hikers on the CT as a herd of cows came up close to investigate this stranger. They didn’t stay long, maybe because the thought of greener grass was on their minds or I smelled worse than a cow. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO-Xh7B3VshH78BtqG5_lZAkC2K5rnrMjeeiZ4EAYFxzVjeFdDLe5XYTv0ljobU4atOeQYlJm_DIaIlGwlNsUZMthLdveLS7FjUKiDwXJfR374mkHxEVyU_1Cg88yj2d2DbYWquMr-tqw/s1600/100_5789.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5515792599070580434" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO-Xh7B3VshH78BtqG5_lZAkC2K5rnrMjeeiZ4EAYFxzVjeFdDLe5XYTv0ljobU4atOeQYlJm_DIaIlGwlNsUZMthLdveLS7FjUKiDwXJfR374mkHxEVyU_1Cg88yj2d2DbYWquMr-tqw/s320/100_5789.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br />After lunch I came up with a whole new game plan and it would involve me getting to Kenosha Pass by tomorrow morning. I would then get a ride to Denver and drop some of my gear and buy some different equipment. As I walked around the corner of the trail, a woman and man sat on a fallen log, starring a hole in a CT handbook. “Have we crossed Rock Creek?” she asked. “No that’s still 4 miles ahead.” I replied. They had bought the handbook in Denver and were doing some short hikes. At a stream crossing I was picking up some water when the couple came up to my back pack to look it over. I turned around and was talking to them when I noticed in the distance a group of old barkless aspen trees standing on end to form a teepee. I had read in the local paper that a group of archeologist were searching the Colorado mountains for these structures from the Ute Indians. We all walked down to the teepee of wood and looked it all over with amazement. The top of the trees were all interwoven and it supported itself. I guess the wandering Indians would then just throw some hides over the trees for shelter.<br /><br />By dinner time I had crossed the Rock Creek bridge and then I kept a eye out for a level camping spot, maybe something with a ocean view. ha ha I followed the Ben Tyler trail for a few minutes and then found a spot right by the creek. The creek had enough water in it for me to do a bit of a bath and at least wash off the big pieces. After dinner I laid out everything I had in my pack with the idea of reducing the weight on my back. I only needed one cooking pot and the extra eating utensils wouldn’t be necessary unless I was planning on guests. If I bought a good ground cloth I could just use my rain fly for shelter. I had a Gore Tex bivouac bag at home that I could use instead of a sleeping bag. While rain was falling as I sat in my tent I was glad I went back and got my shelter.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4VGQmYmLhS9p506EZC-n9SOXsoaJlgBUCOnmtpS5mEHgff87KwkvWV_4u3DecOhYP8CMG9AacPa4jqN7oQCGe7agbPZjgw_dj_dWRZF992_THAlwunEZEkmc9GL7McfHtM85qepBrA0c/s1600/100_0574.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5515792228429381970" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4VGQmYmLhS9p506EZC-n9SOXsoaJlgBUCOnmtpS5mEHgff87KwkvWV_4u3DecOhYP8CMG9AacPa4jqN7oQCGe7agbPZjgw_dj_dWRZF992_THAlwunEZEkmc9GL7McfHtM85qepBrA0c/s320/100_0574.JPG" border="0" /></a><br />July 19th Section # 5 6.4 miles 3 hrs gain 1,540 feet<br />The Kenosha Pass area with all it’s flowers and large aspen groves is one of the prettiest spots along the route. Or maybe it was because I was heading for home for a short break. The CT crosses the main highway here and a mob of weekend warriors mountain bikers park here. I planned on borrowing a cell phone to call in my calvary. I could have made a cell phone commercial as I tried to get service from different cell phones. The winner for them and me was Horizon, out of the four phones I tried. I got hold of a friend that promised that he would come and pick me up in a hour or two.<br /><br />A week before I had dropped off one of my food caches with Mercedes, the camp ground hostess at Kenosha Pass. She had worked last summer as a cook in a cowboy camps with a rough group of guys, but this gig was making her pull out her hair. While waiting for my ride home, I decided to walk up to Mercedes trailer and retrieve my food. I could hear the sound of metal pots and pans being slammed on top of a stove as I approached the trailer. I was almost afraid to knock on the door. A outrageous camper lady in site #10 was working on Mercedes brain, I came to find out. The first round of shouting matches was a draw with Mercedes calling the lady a bitch and the lady calling Mercedes another Adolf Hitler of the mountain. I gathered up my cache of food and wanted to stay out of the line of fire between campers and hostess. Mercedes and myself walked down the road as she nailed little signs on the trees. “BATHROOM FOR PAYING GUESTS ONLY” “I have seen these mountain bikers fill up a septic tank in one afternoon!” she explained. “Why not sell power drinks to the bikers and charge for the bathroom, that way you <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjIna63kChJyISJT2rJazm6hBlGtkjV-JHozWGIFNHflWG5ozzNkzogC53XrdT2eZSX7lVMtm-acoRtwCEMs2I58gxkcWy8xDq7Kx8UOZLAOYL37kn3nxBdKjLqLfPvxrmXOHD5jGBnJk/s1600/100_0567.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5515791899244361442" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjIna63kChJyISJT2rJazm6hBlGtkjV-JHozWGIFNHflWG5ozzNkzogC53XrdT2eZSX7lVMtm-acoRtwCEMs2I58gxkcWy8xDq7Kx8UOZLAOYL37kn3nxBdKjLqLfPvxrmXOHD5jGBnJk/s320/100_0567.JPG" border="0" /></a>can charge them coming and going!” I said with a smile on my face. She was not in any mood for jokes. “You know what really burns me up are the CT hikers.” she explained. “The hikers come waltzing in here like I am their long lost sister and want a ride to the town of Jefferson for a resupply!” she said. “Why not charge them $20.00 and make a little money on th side?” I explained. “It may look like I am just walking around counting chipmunks and being Hitler reborn but if my own mother walked into camp, I wouldn’t drive her to town!” she said. As I departed, her attention was towards the young hoodlums in #4 campsite. Their plan of action to drive Mercedes to the brink of madness was by building a campfire bigger then the fire pit ring. While Mercedes took on the fire bugs with her best Hitler imitation, I walked back to the main road.<br /><br />A couple with a Maryland license plate were loading up their back packs like they were walking to the moon. After I watched them load four containers of water I mentioned that there was water ahead. “We plan on walking all the way to the pass and there isn’t any water on that mountain!” said the husband. “Yes but you’ll cross a couple of creeks before that.” I reminded them. They didn’t want to hear any of my suggestions and within a few minutes my ride back to Denver arrived.<br /><br />Rex my savior, suggested I wind down the window since it’s been a few days from when my <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs3QdnrYMTkG7z6CpvfvmOqJU3mINX0bkj4AeqevQKEG78ri5BuoNIvqakDLJfFcaqz1OCTOOp1UEJUlYVPXD_BK7bGYz9XckNfzGJqeNdROmiEIuPETR4qoJQvAkUcV0f8nirqRuRDFI/s1600/100_0573.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5515791368680393490" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs3QdnrYMTkG7z6CpvfvmOqJU3mINX0bkj4AeqevQKEG78ri5BuoNIvqakDLJfFcaqz1OCTOOp1UEJUlYVPXD_BK7bGYz9XckNfzGJqeNdROmiEIuPETR4qoJQvAkUcV0f8nirqRuRDFI/s320/100_0573.JPG" border="0" /></a>body had felt soap and water. After being dropped off at my house I drove to my local sporting good store and changed sleeping bags and sleeping pad.<br /><br />July 20th Section #6 18.9 miles 10 hrs elevation gain 4,520 feet<br />Pat and Dave volunteered to drive me back to Kenosha Pass and walk with me to Georgia Pass 12 miles away. We took two cars and left one at Georgia Pass so the dynamic duel wouldn’t have to walk all the way back for a total of 24 miles. Within a hour we walked into the Maryland couple camp, they had just walked 1 hour before collapsing beside a stream. They couldn’t believe I had walked all the way from Denver. A large rock formation along the trail made a nice lunch spot for filling our belly and watching mountain bikers whizz by at break neck speed. I <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdnJEr-DA5baNinCKqMe8YtAKwSyw-ndFaKCqq0p7sRlGGDzj7-zdJ6AEWGSFIP0iplgtvNpuPXFnKSL9OT7-K_M86ShGDLwXESBJY7FylBLHtGwzVC474BM73SByaKNl-fbp_3vQy5H4/s1600/100_0553.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5515791060928637106" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdnJEr-DA5baNinCKqMe8YtAKwSyw-ndFaKCqq0p7sRlGGDzj7-zdJ6AEWGSFIP0iplgtvNpuPXFnKSL9OT7-K_M86ShGDLwXESBJY7FylBLHtGwzVC474BM73SByaKNl-fbp_3vQy5H4/s320/100_0553.JPG" border="0" /></a>thought they were being manufactured at the top of the pass since they seemed to come down the trail like they were on a conveyer belt.<br /><br />As we cleared the protection trees on to alpine like tundra, bellowing black clouds began to form. Just as we reached Dave’s truck, hail mixed with rain began to bounce off his windshield. When there was a clearing in the skies I made a mad dash with my pack for the pass and the timber below. A group of roaring motor cycles that reminded me of a mad bumble bees appeared out of the timberline at the same time. It was round two of the storm with large hail bouncing off the helmets of the cyclist as they whizzed by me. As I cleared the trees, is the same time my storm decided it has enough fun twisting my mojo.<br /><br />By dinner time and when my legs said uncle I stopped along the Swan River to find a level campsite. The tall timber and lack of hikers made for a perfect setting. After eating my meal I walked over to a old saw mill and tried to identify a boat load of rusty machine parts. I listened to the roar of the river in stereo all night since I had set up my camp on a island in the middle of <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhZJG7E2rjQCJc65LJWl94b1tqO8T2NqbG-N-oYwWm82aQFmlie2WXMw6GBXEUbzsEtC01UEv9WHQG6qshs12o8kPyOMeTqj0keI-D7IewBcbB4MaJ8VjSpQ5_XSUDmaKp8038p7XisHY/s1600/100_0540.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5515790670024651938" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhZJG7E2rjQCJc65LJWl94b1tqO8T2NqbG-N-oYwWm82aQFmlie2WXMw6GBXEUbzsEtC01UEv9WHQG6qshs12o8kPyOMeTqj0keI-D7IewBcbB4MaJ8VjSpQ5_XSUDmaKp8038p7XisHY/s320/100_0540.JPG" border="0" /></a>the river.<br /><br />I had brought along a Gore Tex bivouac bag with the idea that it would be warm enough with all my cloths on, instead of a sleeping bag. That’s what I get for thinking. I froze my ass off, especially with a cold breeze coming off the river at 2:30 am. After a few hours of doing everything I could think of to get warm, I got up with the moon light on my back and went for a run along the trail for thirty minutes. It was enough to get the juices flowing and I went back in the bag.<br /><br />July 21st section # 6 16.1 miles 8 hrs elev gain 4,520 feet<br />Woke this morning to clear skies and a clear thought of the town of Breckenridge and a warm comfy sleeping bag. I had plenty of time to think about my sleeping solution, since it was 6 hour hike to the road that would lead me to salvation. The morning sun was reflecting off the rushing river and making these illuminators dance off the logs and rocks along it’s banks. Within a hour I came to a fellow hiker sitting in the middle of his collapsed tent. He was trying to stuff his huge, soft and warm sleeping bag back into it’s stuff sack. Not that I was noticing or anything. His bag <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-0chvRd_bKI4dXRtOtnY5Uxg6tKr2aZ5dmy4mLAHJERHB0foxRw1P-jLfI4otn-uGIG03a3l1-3GcBFmhDpwqyNPC__rUdm16IGPT4KGFNYwqB1gTqOjals5Li02vUANJenauvlop-EQ/s1600/100_0450.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5515790122208564866" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-0chvRd_bKI4dXRtOtnY5Uxg6tKr2aZ5dmy4mLAHJERHB0foxRw1P-jLfI4otn-uGIG03a3l1-3GcBFmhDpwqyNPC__rUdm16IGPT4KGFNYwqB1gTqOjals5Li02vUANJenauvlop-EQ/s320/100_0450.JPG" border="0" /></a>was so big it looked like he was trying to stuff Pillsberry Dough Boy into a sandwich bag. “How far are you going?” asked the hiker. “I have Durango on my mind presently.” I said. “I am doing the same thing, but over 10 year period!” he explained. “My wife picks me up along the route and takes my tired butt home.” he said.<br /><br />I must be getting close to a trail head because I started to see a few more hikers and bikers. The Tiger Run Trail head lead me to a free bus stop. A couple shared the bench waiting for the bus to Breckenridge. The fella owned a sporting goods store in Chicago and had the knowledge of bivouac bags. He suggested I buy a liner for my bag.<br /><br />I found a sporting goods store in town with a sales lady that had plenty of time to show me liners. I had to take my back pack apart and it looked like a garage sale with my goods spread across the sales floor. I crawled into different liner and finally settled on a warm one. As I reloaded my pack the sales lady sat on the floor next to me. As she looked out the store front window to the mountains in the distance, she explained about he perfect job and marriage. Her marriage had just come about last year, with dogs carrying the wedding rings in a meadow filled with friends and wild flowers. “My life is great so why do I still want to go along with you to Durango?” she ask herself. She had disappeared into the back room as I opened the front door as the sunlight was reflecting off the street. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGqpCUwm-SkTN8R5hbHk388xYhnUNGzpLUo9nj3ptM94TSLjXaw8mf0aZRX1aVkt4PN9buNbSEkvBl1Vl6pV2Gbmhbssh5TBHN5PNcQzGgK9CQGtr9uJHWNK7XbxUKvClkc5zjZtUHrgg/s1600/100_0426.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5515789696693152498" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGqpCUwm-SkTN8R5hbHk388xYhnUNGzpLUo9nj3ptM94TSLjXaw8mf0aZRX1aVkt4PN9buNbSEkvBl1Vl6pV2Gbmhbssh5TBHN5PNcQzGgK9CQGtr9uJHWNK7XbxUKvClkc5zjZtUHrgg/s320/100_0426.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br />I shared the bus stop with two sisters from Detroit as I waited for my transportation back to the CT. As I sucked water from the hose connected to the water bladder in my pack one of th sister spoke up. “My Lord that’s what I need!” She said. “Yes you can get thirsty here.” I said. “Oh it’s water, I thought it was oxygen!” she said. When I told them I was walking to Durango they looked at me like I was the stupidest fella on the face of the earth and they told me so. “Is there much to do around here?” one of the sister asked. “Last night we drove into town and got hammered.” she said “Than this morning we went shopping.” she said. “Why not drive up to Hoosier Pass and take a short hike.” I suggested. “Oh we have had enough windshield time driving from Mo Town.” she explained. “Besides my sister and I smoke so the thin air on top of the mountain kicks our butt.” she said. “Why exactly did you come to Colorado?” I asked. “To get away from Detroit bad influences and some clean air.” she said. I thought to myself why don’t these girls order the mountains by room service. I was glad to see my bus pull up to carry me away from this funny farm, managed by the twisted sisters.<br /><br />The bus dropped me off at Tiger Run trail head and I almost ran to the tall timber to escape from the absurdity of civilization. The last straw could have been these sister’s brother that came buzzing down the trail on a mountain bike. He was pedaling with his hands off the handle bars with one hand on a cell phone and the other on a planner.<br /><br />My campsite along a Miner creek was a welcome relief !<br /><br />July 22nd section #7 15.3 miles 8 hrs elev gain 3,600. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAKuqNSI2mHqSUMR_OlYQg0KkcGLwium_lnz8_dHMRc8ooQ_rc1SWJIyjHydTWV6QogB17930GA0DCGHj48d1QCLlnlil94v-E-1lKim6NRpWup8IAqrA-srmJHXQla_tuCt5hwIhfy-k/s1600/100_0410.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5515789342876786786" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAKuqNSI2mHqSUMR_OlYQg0KkcGLwium_lnz8_dHMRc8ooQ_rc1SWJIyjHydTWV6QogB17930GA0DCGHj48d1QCLlnlil94v-E-1lKim6NRpWup8IAqrA-srmJHXQla_tuCt5hwIhfy-k/s320/100_0410.JPG" border="0" /></a><br />The trail this morning headed straight up over a pass to the Ten Mile mountain range. A herd of elk left their hoof prints in the soft soil on the trail. On top of elk prints was the impression of a mountain lion. The ridge was covered with willows that acted like a curtain for the drama that was to unfold when lion meets elk with calves. From my vantage point I could see the Copper Mountain ski area to my right. The trail followed a drainage that was landscaped by the countless avalanches during the winter. Just before I crossed CR 91 I noticed a village of tents from the CT volunteers. Within ten minutes I walked into a restaurant at the ski area and with any luck they had a juicy burger with my name on it. Since I was cut to half rations during my trek, my stomach seemed to have shrunk a tad. I ordered a double whammy of fries and a cheese burger. After eating half I was thinking of a getting a doggy bag, I mean a hiker bag. A shadow appeared over my table as I heard a question. “Are you one of those CT hikers?” asked the lady. “I guess smelling like a goat was a dead give away!” I said. She went on to explain she was doing a shuttle service for three hikers on the CT, and in fact she did the same on the Appalachian trail for this group. I found out this was the group ahead of me when I started in Denver. One of the fella had sore feet so they pulled out at Buffalo Creek for a day. One of the <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgND0v_jMCAdHlWlEv-xgyUXV6t01os4NEkVh2MqvmSa78cmaaGlZPgYmQoIZdiO1Pla3NCEXjrF97Mzh_BmHxe1cLAMaBJIpKvf3Yfbb-tECSsqUdZXexEXeOAoFGTIynHiwK9DQvTc8U/s1600/100_7886.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5515703164352178802" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgND0v_jMCAdHlWlEv-xgyUXV6t01os4NEkVh2MqvmSa78cmaaGlZPgYmQoIZdiO1Pla3NCEXjrF97Mzh_BmHxe1cLAMaBJIpKvf3Yfbb-tECSsqUdZXexEXeOAoFGTIynHiwK9DQvTc8U/s320/100_7886.JPG" border="0" /></a>hikers owned a major grocery store chain and one had received a large insurance settlement, and the last little Indian was just a tag along. They all stayed connected by a satellite phone. If they felt like taking in a movie or a fancy pansy restaurant after a hard day of hiking, it was just a phone call away. I made fun of it but it sounded good to me, what ever works. “My trail name is Ma.” she explained. “Do you have one yet?” she asked. “I guess you can call me Red Dog, that’s as good as any.” I said. “Do you go around sniffing people’s butts?” she asked. “ No but I can lick my own balls on occasion!” I said as a come back. That seemed to take her back some as she walked back to her car with the idea of picking up the Three Musketeers at the last trail head.<br /><br />I was burning sunlight and Durango wasn’t getting any closer by sitting here. Within ten minutes I walked into the CT volunteers that were hard at work along the trail. They had the look of a chain gang, at the end of their chain. I stopped and talked with them for a few minutes. As a joke I remarked I had walked through their camp and didn’t find many valuables in their tents. “That’s really funny since we are FBI agents on a working vacation!" the agent said. I guess the joke was on me, but they were interested in my walk and all wanted to do it.<br /><br />I set up my camp along the Guller Creek with plenty of shade and water. After dinner I walked up the trail until a small elk jumped out of the willows and I don’t know who was more surprised. I hope he finishes elk school before hunting season starts.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7-6W9SmT-ZAdd5tLwaMnPAFyd3w6Xypn1BrI9uu179DryGkRc3RyFJDO-U9_zSpILqD4z4S9xSin97DC7xSNNHihcSSVIOu-6ey2uEaamw7ScWHySLeMds8n39EcQmnsxOoqrScRJUFo/s1600/100_7918.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5515702752279414098" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7-6W9SmT-ZAdd5tLwaMnPAFyd3w6Xypn1BrI9uu179DryGkRc3RyFJDO-U9_zSpILqD4z4S9xSin97DC7xSNNHihcSSVIOu-6ey2uEaamw7ScWHySLeMds8n39EcQmnsxOoqrScRJUFo/s320/100_7918.JPG" border="0" /></a><br />July 23rd section #8 13.4 miles 6 hrs-4020 elevation gain<br />With the Guller drainage on left side I started to climb to the Searle Pass. Both sides of the trail was covered with wild flowers that looked like a Sierra Club calender on steroids. A black bear was digging feverishly into a small patch of snow from last winter. I hope by interrupting his breakfast that he wouldn’t take it personal. The bear was a blur as it barreled into the willows that folded around him and it made a zipping nosie as he disappeared. The red color of the sunrise, turned six bull elk silhouetting images on the crest of the mountain. All six elk turned in unison like ballet dancers and made a fast retreat. The morning colors of reds and yellows on their fur made for a special moment like I was the audience for their performance. The most expensive camera couldn’t have captured the feeling nor the moment. From the pass I had a million dollar view of the Mayflower mountains with it’s castle like spirals in the distance. The trail followed the ridge and it would lead me to Kokomo pass.<br /><br />The trail lead me down to the Cataract Creek drainage but it was still very much in the open. I came to small bronze marker that marked some young fella last place he stood on this earth. I imagine it was a lighting strike that clobbered him being in the open like this. It reminded me of the time I was hiking in the Gore range by Kremmling, Colorado. I came to a full size tomb stone planted right on the point of a ridge. Later when I worked my way back to my truck I flagged down a lone pickup truck and had a few questions about this memorial. “That was Bob’s favorite spot while hiking for elk.” this fella explained. “Was it hard to get approval to bury him their?” I asked. “No Bob was pretty quiet while he was alive and even quieter being horizontal like that!” he said.<br /><br />The tall timber was a welcoming sight especially with Cataract Creek winding it’s way down the mountain . As two hikers came towards me I felt a pull on my pack. “Where do you think your going?” ask the one fella with uniform. “Durango is my final destination.” I said. “Well Durango is going to have to wait a few hours.” the man said. “The Federal government has hired my company to clean up old Camp Hale from unexploded munitions.” he explained. “While the men are searching and cleaning up the area, no hikers can enter the area.” said Scott the worker. Scott said that the 10th Mtn Army trained here for the Second World War and they have found <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPaD2lderG7NC_BcS0ElOFI1GZvuYOI4sMYFM9WnmCF4MN0Mz980fGxsUSB2ljJb_op6Y_aMrkRQkWE9VTxmMC7IVJoFGiVmivDGwDPJmbMoeS3OAJHt7mOCzE8YWn5AvxjO4PFfXoE94/s1600/100_7930.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5515702389371081634" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPaD2lderG7NC_BcS0ElOFI1GZvuYOI4sMYFM9WnmCF4MN0Mz980fGxsUSB2ljJb_op6Y_aMrkRQkWE9VTxmMC7IVJoFGiVmivDGwDPJmbMoeS3OAJHt7mOCzE8YWn5AvxjO4PFfXoE94/s320/100_7930.JPG" border="0" /></a>enough unspent munitions, to start another war. The other fella with Scott was a CT hiker like myself. He was a retired veterinarian was from Avon Ohio and was having trouble with the lack of oxygen do to the elevation. He had hiked the AT three years ago and liked the oxygen content a lot better back east. “How many days have you been walking?” asked Jim the vet. “This is my eight day, how about you?” I asked. “I had thoughts of us walking together but it’s taken me eighteen days from Denver.” he said. While we waited for the all clear from the bomb squad, we talked about resupply. Jim had stopped at Burger Kings on the drive from Ohio and picked up empty pickle containers. Than he put his food in the containers and hung them from trees at different trail heads.<br /><br />After cooling our heels for two hours we got the all clear from the contractors working the firing ranges. We all walked down to the dirt road that would lead us to the CT. A woman ranger and the foreman of the job meet us at his truck for transport. The ranger asked Jim and myself some simple questions, but mostly she was interesting in talking to the foreman. Not that he was better looking than us but his company paid better for next year. We got a quick tour of the area with machine gun nest on your right and soldier barracks on your left. As we approached a group of younger workers, one of the fellas flagged us down. “What does this flashed red light mean on this metal detector?” asked the fella. “That means there is a severe lightning storm approaching.” said the foreman. “It will only stop flashing if you get struck or the lighting passes through.” said the smart ass foreman. “Do you think we should keep looking for munitions?” asked the young worker. “Sure if you want to get struck by lighting and blown up at the same time, but filling out the accident report can be a bugger.” said the foreman. As we drove away I saw all the workers <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeN8IIhyphenhyphenD38yGXK7qGcEQgPCH1FmbZJsbH3gHzJ_e_6WQlhpyqQm_GM4eCFZNug-tRmvk29LfOPWfjMqXogas8BJ9ddAMx0gpPHmWOtWlTrHa-_Ny0Oi5oDf3MIM37ctzWWQ4eEoo3hIY/s1600/100_7865.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5515702039509011154" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeN8IIhyphenhyphenD38yGXK7qGcEQgPCH1FmbZJsbH3gHzJ_e_6WQlhpyqQm_GM4eCFZNug-tRmvk29LfOPWfjMqXogas8BJ9ddAMx0gpPHmWOtWlTrHa-_Ny0Oi5oDf3MIM37ctzWWQ4eEoo3hIY/s320/100_7865.JPG" border="0" /></a>heading for the high timber. Jim had told me before that he wasn’t a big fan of lighting storms and the past conversation didn’t help any. The truck stopped at the trail head and Jim and I got out. It was only 2:00 pm but Jim wanted me to help him find a campsite that was lighting proof. I dropped my pack and walked along a old dirt road until I came to a old miners cabin. I help Jim get set up and then said my good byes.<br /><br />I wanted to put on a few miles before dinner time, even though there was a chance of rain. I stopped as the skies opened to a small drizzle of moisture, to put on my pack cover. A couple <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjHLpJNTsrkwXF09G0E7be4JcpnuSmPozIUovmSVAxoZfdeF8GBLnv6CqgAVJtb6E6l5W6ULn6BfggXNOkTUrpEoybwlL0I5ujrfCVp9t9THpjQwzSAaXMMZRfI9PfS85yPYdMCZ_8HLk/s1600/100_7917.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5515701694464511426" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjHLpJNTsrkwXF09G0E7be4JcpnuSmPozIUovmSVAxoZfdeF8GBLnv6CqgAVJtb6E6l5W6ULn6BfggXNOkTUrpEoybwlL0I5ujrfCVp9t9THpjQwzSAaXMMZRfI9PfS85yPYdMCZ_8HLk/s320/100_7917.JPG" border="0" /></a>from Durango just happened to walk by at the same time. “Are you walking to Durango?” asked the lady. Finding out I had walked 116 miles in 8 days, she started to shake her head. “That’s all the farther you have walked, in 8 days.” she said. “In five years I am going to walk the whole CT.” she announced. My pack seemed to get heavier and my ego just sprung a leak. “Good luck on your five years plan.”I said, as I waved them goodbye, but not all my fingers where up.<br /><br />I crossed the road that lead to a memorial to the 10th Mountain Army on Tennessee Pass. I continued on the CT and came to the fork of the Tennessee Creek which had a great spot for a camp site. Even though the lady from Durango thought I should carry on, I ate dinner and fell asleep.<br /><br />July 24th Section 9 /11.5 miles/6 hrs/elevation gain of 2,120 feet.<br />I awoke to clear skies without the least bit of sign of dark clouds of lightning. Pam my wife was bringing supplies from Denver and I was going to rendevous with her at Turquoise Lake. As I entered the Holy Cross Wilderness Area I meet another group of CT volunteers, working on the trail. A lady from Texas with a strong accent to prove it, was issuing out work orders. “If you want to drop your pack for a few hours, we could sure use someone with a strong back and a weak mind!” she explained. “Boy I fit that bill, but I have a date with my wife.” I said. Large stones were being man handled by a group of strong backed guys as I worked my way through the crew.<br /><br />As I sat on a large rock by Porcupine Lake a column of Boy Scouts, came marching down the trail. A husband and wife team from Breckenridge was leading this group to Half Moon for a merit badge. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtyt8aRkMkaXJWP31de1eSbgfYod1fDshaX7CBUixciRHPXM00VZb5RHdYXDb82XYNg8aUdTb9VhOA9EGvCv8Jud2DU-Ap0G-dpfyIE_ucZggyo5jrDM3DJ2xccxsyfYYQol1uqZIPAwg/s1600/100_7895.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5515701342870157970" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtyt8aRkMkaXJWP31de1eSbgfYod1fDshaX7CBUixciRHPXM00VZb5RHdYXDb82XYNg8aUdTb9VhOA9EGvCv8Jud2DU-Ap0G-dpfyIE_ucZggyo5jrDM3DJ2xccxsyfYYQol1uqZIPAwg/s320/100_7895.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Two hours later I came to another group of young hikers, from all over the world. They were on a mission to learn about nature and each other.<br /><br />With a sigh of relieve I could see Turquoise Lake in the distance. The trail seemed to be a lot easier since I could see my objective and it was down hill. I met another group of hikers, lead by a young hiker. They were also from all over the world and where headed to a cabin called Uncle Bud’s. The seven hikers were walking with a brisk pace, except for the Japanese hiker leaning against a tree. “How far is Uncle Bud’s?” he asked. “How far did your leader say it was?” I asked. “Two hours.” he said. “I would stay with that answer, sounds about right.” I replied. Come to find out they had stayed at the Skinner Hut last night. The trail down from there can be quite <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggVgYlmjqgfG4LjUPh_oDA9Gq7Ylairr70Cx-tamNDQBZ5MNd_WO_7RK3NRVw5vaioVW1OljTkNRbTQwGquOYRqFYoJ24gbTodIVvt_Q2GBe2YC3eEWxP4zRx3Xbca3XbxyePr1M2ofnI/s1600/100_7885.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5515700996562249218" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggVgYlmjqgfG4LjUPh_oDA9Gq7Ylairr70Cx-tamNDQBZ5MNd_WO_7RK3NRVw5vaioVW1OljTkNRbTQwGquOYRqFYoJ24gbTodIVvt_Q2GBe2YC3eEWxP4zRx3Xbca3XbxyePr1M2ofnI/s320/100_7885.JPG" border="0" /></a>steep, except they hitched a ride around the hard part.<br /><br />I was sitting against a rock waiting for my Knight in Shining armor, named Pam to show up, when I heard a voice. “Does the bus to Leadville stop here?” asked a lady with curly hair. “Not in your wildest dreams would a bus stop here!” I explained. I found out this German woman needed a ride to Buena Vista. Her German name was to hard for Yanks to pronounce so she went by Curly. She had walked the AT and PCT and now was doing CDT. She had meet her husband in Germany when he was stationed there. His big adventure was walking the aisle of the local Walmart on Friday night. Curly was suppose to be home but had called her hubby three time and changed her airline ticket back home, after she had finished a section of trail. She was going to meet friends in Buena Vista and then call him again for a fourth time. “ What if wants you to come back home to Maine?” I asked. “I’ll go home and wait for him to die!”she said. I thought to my self, spoken like a true German! Pam showed up at the same time as the Boy Scouts did. Come to find out Curly and the Scouts were both asked by the Japanese hiker, “How far is Uncle Bud’s hut?”<br /><br />Buena vista was on our way to Salida, so we dropped Curly off at her friends house. Pam by accident had brought over a wrong container of the food that we would cache. So we decided to bury the one container and I would take one with me. Then Pam would come back the next weekend and meet me along Highway 50 at the Monarch Ski Hotel. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbeEng6nR7pr9HLDQBTCKBKoOuQky8LtClRr8kl_MK3BN5jCimTLDSGjIlfmpVv5yP_TbrqXOF7SsJw7AHrG1JBj9AwAsOjNRWs577pJQjbp_ywc9brq4Vi1sUoMS_VzOoqn6rFCfuZN4/s1600/100_7859.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5515700677465945890" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbeEng6nR7pr9HLDQBTCKBKoOuQky8LtClRr8kl_MK3BN5jCimTLDSGjIlfmpVv5yP_TbrqXOF7SsJw7AHrG1JBj9AwAsOjNRWs577pJQjbp_ywc9brq4Vi1sUoMS_VzOoqn6rFCfuZN4/s320/100_7859.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br />We drove to CR 114 and then followed a dirt forest road for several miles. I found a place where the CT would meet this road. Under a grove of aspen trees where the dirt looked soft I dug a hole deep enough to drop my 5 gallon paint bucket, loaded with food. I placed a rock on top as a marker. Since we had some extra time we walked along the CT heading north. After a few minutes of walking we meet a couple with dogs walking towards Creede, on the CT. They had started at Buffalo Creek since dogs aren’t allowed in Waterton Canyon, a month ago, and had the saddle sores to prove it. While I was talking to the lady, her husband laid down beside the trail and fell asleep. The two dogs weren’t in any better shape, as they laid beside their master. He was a dentist on the Apache Indian reservation in Arizonia, while she did library work. As we talked dark billowing clouds began to form towards the west. Thunder could also be heard over the sound of our feet hitting the path, as Pam and I made a dash for our vehicle. After 15 minutes of intense rain and wind, the skies cleared. I knew our new friends were needing more words of encouragement, so I blasted the car horn as a signal. Within a few minutes they came out of the timber a little worse for wear. I had seen a great camping spot along the dirt road so <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjey1gmb9QDWEvHAkkFEdwGVvTa78SpHmPypN4JNPOzeWAX30CKnGNXlZwPgrQqJY8qxwh1J0xeqDTO-bMknZ4M2MX20-W3QH8amc3XRPhokLKx2kqdwEZ-x4tTZvlU9euLh6MEaMUVuUY/s1600/100_7868.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5515700346965158786" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjey1gmb9QDWEvHAkkFEdwGVvTa78SpHmPypN4JNPOzeWAX30CKnGNXlZwPgrQqJY8qxwh1J0xeqDTO-bMknZ4M2MX20-W3QH8amc3XRPhokLKx2kqdwEZ-x4tTZvlU9euLh6MEaMUVuUY/s320/100_7868.JPG" border="0" /></a>we offered to drive them down to it. The wet dogs and hikers all poured in to our Jeep. Before we left them at the site, I handed out much needed fresh fruit and candy.<br /><br />Pam and I made a plan to hookup again in five days along CR 50. That gave me five days to walk 85 miles, I hope it doesn’t rain much.<br /><br />July 26th section #10 4.4 miles 45 minutes<br />As we walked along the streets of Salida I noticed black clouds forming over the mountains. I had one last stop at a local grocery store, where I noticed a woman’s ring ahead of me in the check out line. I found the story behind the ring, kind of interesting. Her late husband was station in the Phillippines during the war, and one night as he walked along the beach he spied a oyster shell. In the shell was this huge pearl and he kept it all thru the war. Back at state side he had it made into a ring and presented it to her after he ask for her hand in marriage.<br /><br />Pam had dropped me of at the Hagerman Pass trail head, just as the storm number one hundred started to make it’s presence known. I wanted to find a campsite before I became another lightning victim. I was able to get under my tent flaps before the storm released all it’s moisture.<br /><br />July 27th section #10 &11 19.6 miles elev. Gain 1,760.<br />Woke to a drizzle but it was only enough to keep the dust down. The Mt Elbert trail head was <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb4BF-iVppyliNeYsrwrEv2SAM6aY4upg_datf9CsiUAJkoEAOdnbfyAI19GXWl4Di8xcGbL4H0Xx6g2hnSKXqHNTEHK5zhCKz3uKHDLC-AkSOqeo-W9JWcNJxBKIfBwC11_A-HQtGu5g/s1600/100_1442.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5515699883634260018" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb4BF-iVppyliNeYsrwrEv2SAM6aY4upg_datf9CsiUAJkoEAOdnbfyAI19GXWl4Di8xcGbL4H0Xx6g2hnSKXqHNTEHK5zhCKz3uKHDLC-AkSOqeo-W9JWcNJxBKIfBwC11_A-HQtGu5g/s320/100_1442.JPG" border="0" /></a>wide enough to drive a tractor trailer thru. Millions of people most have used this spot as a sending off point for the highest mountain in Colorado. I was reading a sign at the trail head when a group of people, three strong walked by, heading north. “That’s it, we are heading home!” said the leader. “Where is home?” I asked. “Denver is where we started the CT and Leadville is where we are going to finish, I can’t take this lightning!” he explained. It hadn’t been lightning for at least forty five minutes, I don’t know what his problem was!<br />As I turned around forty Boy Scout came marching down the trail with ten leaders behind them, all shiny and smelling fresh. Well at least everybody isn’t throwing in the towel. I hope all those badges on their chests doesn’t attract the lightning!<br /><br />After lunch I was walking down into the Twin Lake area, when you guessed it, dark clouds off the mountains. I was totally in the open without even a prairie dog to hide behind, when I heard the first boom from the clouds. Half way around the dam I found a Water dept building and leaned against the dry side of the building till it was all clear. With one eye towards the heavens I made a mad dash for the trees. A few fool hardy picnickers and fisherman where still sitting on there chairs starring at their fishing poles. I pulled my rain fly from my back pack and tried to cover my body as fast as I could. After a few minutes of a steady down pour it was all over except for the crying. I was close enough to the lake shore where I saw plenty of that from the children being pulled through the mud back to the safety of their cars by water logged parents.<br /><br />I ate my dinner and watched the sun set over the western mountains. Another day and still alive. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6es1EWSbipUiu1BMW-_kC7WU6Q7V_v_ad9NtVqxSG2BlqhqbOxPwv0SmSHT0xN3wvKGkWxdWUb-Q6psv8bMOcBNzzsfpebJoy2NmO7uJU8eC5J7M_mm7z7zH6X-n39_-7iDuo4w8MvqE/s1600/100_1440.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5515699542709095346" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6es1EWSbipUiu1BMW-_kC7WU6Q7V_v_ad9NtVqxSG2BlqhqbOxPwv0SmSHT0xN3wvKGkWxdWUb-Q6psv8bMOcBNzzsfpebJoy2NmO7uJU8eC5J7M_mm7z7zH6X-n39_-7iDuo4w8MvqE/s320/100_1440.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br />July 28th section #11-12 15.9 miles elev gain 4,520<br />This morning exercise called for me to follow the trail down to Clear Creek valley. The trail was a series of switch backs that would lead me down to CR 390. The signs and trees of the parking lot became a haven for wet hikers to hang back pack equipment to dry after yesterday’s storm. An older hiker and his cousin from Ohio had gotten caught in the yesterdays gully washer and had tents hanging in the morning sun. The pair wanted to follow the trail up to Mt. Missouri but their legs seemed to have other ideas. As we talked I could see a small wooden bridge spanning the creek across from the parking lot. A couple of kids wearing life jackets where having fun around and under the bridge. The girl came up to us with her hands cupped around a small bird. The boy came over looking for ideas of something he could capture, that wasn’t to dangerous. I suggest looking under rocks in the creek for creepy crawlies.<br /><br />After I crossed the bridge the trail took a change with a steep ascent up and over Waverly Mountain. A couple from Capital Hills, Denver where sitting along side the trail with their shoes <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ52kt1YzgrRQ1KgIqzRfTszuUA_31PCrsWSyHAOX_CjnExOfuX5ThwXfW6bC-gruu1hc3TvPeZPD1Wz9-3f0PGwUVzbucvu75_Y9IcGXosJ5kvc8UYNFCA-x9uTqyIkqs30vwd8Sn5Ig/s1600/100_1404.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5515699137916627026" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ52kt1YzgrRQ1KgIqzRfTszuUA_31PCrsWSyHAOX_CjnExOfuX5ThwXfW6bC-gruu1hc3TvPeZPD1Wz9-3f0PGwUVzbucvu75_Y9IcGXosJ5kvc8UYNFCA-x9uTqyIkqs30vwd8Sn5Ig/s320/100_1404.JPG" border="0" /></a>discarded beside them. They had been walking for thirty days from Denver and were looking forward to a soak at Mt. Princton Hot Springs for maybe two days.<br /><br />I stopped by a clear stream and was gathering water in my water container that hangs inside my back pack, when a hiker named Denny walked up and introduced himself. Denny was from Texas and he also had Durango on his sights. I was so busy listening to Denny, I didn’t close my water container good enough. The first step I took up the hill, the water container turned into Niagara Falls, right down my back side. The weather had been hot so it actually felt refreshing, except my undies where a tad uncomfortable. Everyone had the idea of Rainbow Lake as a camping destination for this evening. I met up with Denny again as he was soaking his aching feet in Pine Creek. “Hate to breaks the news to you but it’s beginning to look like a storm is planning on ruining your soakathon!” I said. “If I just can have a few more minutes, please mister please!” yelled Denny. It was two mile hike up the lake and I was moving as fast as a sore legged hiker can move. I had just set up my tent, in record time when the first volley hit. Hail follow by a side dish of sleet and lightning for desert. I was laying in my tent listening to the weather turn my tent into a tom tom drum. Like most summer storms they don’t last long, just long enough to soak everything left unprotected. This include poor Denny, who showed up fifteen minutes after the storm passed wearing a Texas A&M sweat suit. He had left his pack at the bottom of the last hill, since he want sure where Rainbow Lake was located. After a few minutes Denny came dragging into camp and dropped his pack with a thud. “I know we aren’t allowed to have a fire <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4w-HuA85_fofr-n3PsV7P3beVqjpI0738Lv4XPZxgulF_BiJ8y9WVo6n2RL577HGFbSgiVmpZ3MTArEB52yiWGAX9X6YVXyJAt9UiYaudARs_VBOUKbC7vhrJjNW9PsUcz0gn3LR19ww/s1600/100_1502.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5515698562032015074" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4w-HuA85_fofr-n3PsV7P3beVqjpI0738Lv4XPZxgulF_BiJ8y9WVo6n2RL577HGFbSgiVmpZ3MTArEB52yiWGAX9X6YVXyJAt9UiYaudARs_VBOUKbC7vhrJjNW9PsUcz0gn3LR19ww/s320/100_1502.JPG" border="0" /></a>without a official fire ring!” said Denny. With a wave of his hand like a priest would do to bless a church member, Denny declared this a official fire ring and let the fires begin. Denny was very conscience about the weight of his pack and he carried five days worth of food in a gallon zip lock bag. We talked around the roaring fire for several hours, mostly about the CT and the sights that we where seeing. I told him about some of my back packing in New Zealand. “ I imagine if you like this trail Denny, you will really like NZ.” I said “When I get to Durango I”ll sell all my camping gear, to the first person that has cold cash!” he said. “I only do things one time, like sky diving and deep water scuba diving, then sell the gear.” he said. “If I keep my gear I may really get into back packing and I don’t like back packing!” he explained. Denny explained that his niece Ann had started with him in Denver but had to pull out for college at A&M. I guess the way Denny tells it Ann was a ball of fire as a teenager. Ann never got along with her mother and as the years went by it only got worse. One morning Ann’s mother went to wake Ann for school, but she was AWOL. The whole community looked high and low for Ann. Two years later Denny got a call from the Texas Highway Patrol, Ann had been found. Two years ago when everybody and their dog was looking for Ann she had sneaked across the Mexican border without any paper. Then she hitched a ride to Guatemala and lived with a family she met there. The village didn’t have a phone and had a public shower when a janitor would fill a tank in the morning and the people of the village would then use it. After two years she felt like she needed some education, so she crossed the border again. Ann ended up living with Denny and his wife since she still didn’t see eye to with mom.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGCQDwyqnK4Zydy6ajFxe3Hxpy8ZfzsmsuGkQ7JluZItbKGZv1Z1E5105YyJInolFP0xZL5UOTCThsgUssHHOelAk18U-2DCLMc2zeL_Kw34wDQ7aktd0UmDTDqctimZXxYOlmwl6F364/s1600/100_1422.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5515698150269656866" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGCQDwyqnK4Zydy6ajFxe3Hxpy8ZfzsmsuGkQ7JluZItbKGZv1Z1E5105YyJInolFP0xZL5UOTCThsgUssHHOelAk18U-2DCLMc2zeL_Kw34wDQ7aktd0UmDTDqctimZXxYOlmwl6F364/s320/100_1422.JPG" border="0" /></a><br />Denny also was full of information about the hikers behind me. The three amigos that were being escorted by Mom had been walking with Curly. Until one of the hikers ask Curly if she was the seventy year old hiker they had heard about, she was sixty. The vet from Ohio had taken a few days off in Leadville. Josh the Jay Bird was still trying to do 25 miles a day with a small pack and sucking water from muddle puddles, so he wouldn’t have to filter it. Denny was a later riser, so I said my good night’s and good bye that night.<br /><br />July 29th section#12-13 19.2 miles 8 hrs elevation gain 3,720 ft<br />The trail landed me in the middle of North Cottonwood drainage, with groves of aspens as my companion. The trail then turned into a series of roller coaster until I landed at South Cottonwood Creek. I found a level site and pitched my tent without being soaked by a summer rain shower.<br /><br />July 30th Section #13-14 19.5 miles 8 hrs gain 3,320 ft<br />The trail was bring me closer to civilization, I could tell from the width of the path. Plus the no trespassing signs out numbered the wild flowers. I could see Mt. Princeton and I knew the world famous hot spring where close by. I stopped in at the store for a ice cream treat. “Is your wife in the hot springs with a twisted ankle?” asked the clerk. “No my wife is at home, probably twisting a lime in a tall cool drink about now!” I said. The idea of laying in a hot springs did sound <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_3szNYQ0EE_ISfTmJWpmZrjQi_-UhfjH_qWPV6s5VJtJssIop6wUrHUM35nJTZNlDc7-IfRDUFLWW5u-Pikq9gBvQkTNfKFDBl63GVLJRfc33piS3CmuQQ4y3Oe1CiyIxzCA2w2DM73o/s1600/100_1379.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5515697746056655698" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_3szNYQ0EE_ISfTmJWpmZrjQi_-UhfjH_qWPV6s5VJtJssIop6wUrHUM35nJTZNlDc7-IfRDUFLWW5u-Pikq9gBvQkTNfKFDBl63GVLJRfc33piS3CmuQQ4y3Oe1CiyIxzCA2w2DM73o/s320/100_1379.JPG" border="0" /></a>tempting but I had to put on miles. The CT followed the CR 162 for a few miles and then I came to the official trail heading south. It must be about 2:00 pm because here come the afternoon thunder storms. I was in a open field, without a tree in sight. I found a dry creek bed and pulled a tarp over my head and had lunch in the lowest spot for miles around. After a few minutes I heard a bicycle pull up and the man asked if I needed anything. I thought I just need you to get away from me with that lightning rod steel bike. I watched as he rode north and cressed a hill, as thunder was rolling in the valley.<br /><br />I walked into a large meadow that was surrounded by beetle killed trees. I could hear a TV at a very high volume, coming from a group of travel trailers. Being parked in a circle helps ward off marauding Indians and it’s also easier to hear Jerry Springer on the tele. Between the generator running and the television, I had enough of civilization for this week.<br /><br />I followed ATV tracks to the Brown Creek trail head. ATV aren’t allowed on this section of trail so I was wondering if I was going to run into this rebel without a clue. I found a camp above the <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1FKWr-Vdz5qIjW-iiRGzXK2tU3wc12JVCIUF4ONZir8ljiOZJs0pGAsyPhU1dm8qUSud20csWZddL55iW95c3oxHC77YD-TlRMZDH0GMJ883M5vLC5kEo4LGhX_ecJJDVooUZBB1OODA/s1600/100_1376.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5515697436660331330" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1FKWr-Vdz5qIjW-iiRGzXK2tU3wc12JVCIUF4ONZir8ljiOZJs0pGAsyPhU1dm8qUSud20csWZddL55iW95c3oxHC77YD-TlRMZDH0GMJ883M5vLC5kEo4LGhX_ecJJDVooUZBB1OODA/s320/100_1376.JPG" border="0" /></a>creek, that had also been found by swarms of mosquitos. I found the mother load of all mosquito families. I ended up swatting anything that moved while I ate my dinner. The mosquitos where so big when I killed them I could hear their bones break!<br /><br />After dinner sitting on the hill above the trail I heard a group of people huffing and puffing as they ran by. Than came another group of three, with their eyes on the rocky ground and their arms and legs swinging in unison. A few minutes late came a older fella, that had the spirit, but his energy was back in his truck. There was a fork in the trail and he stopped and started down the wrong trail. Like the Great Spirit in the sky, I yelled, “You’re on the wrong trail, they went that away!” The toasted runner immediately turned around and went down the right trail, with <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ0ONIZoNfpaZ-b-4COjdJccEf2-n2y8WKzMK8Qet6JaOVD2G7FV3XPwsO5QtiXe4-aDUND8ZOZjr4l6SvGxDw6OSaguHirpM4J6oDmN1u_zJkq31AC1Wsv2cipAxc1cp4bhQCJRcvr20/s1600/100_5818.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5515696872458077042" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ0ONIZoNfpaZ-b-4COjdJccEf2-n2y8WKzMK8Qet6JaOVD2G7FV3XPwsO5QtiXe4-aDUND8ZOZjr4l6SvGxDw6OSaguHirpM4J6oDmN1u_zJkq31AC1Wsv2cipAxc1cp4bhQCJRcvr20/s320/100_5818.JPG" border="0" /></a>out even looking up. I walked down to the fork in the trail, and was looking at the flaunta and flora, when the older runner came back up the trail. By this time he had turned into a walker. “Every week I try and keep with this running club and I either fall behind or get lost or both!” he said. “I am walking back to the trail head and wait”, as he started down the wrong trail again. I only had to say stop when he knew he had done it again and turned around without saying a word and got on the right trail. Come to find out, from this runner that the ATV tracks I saw, belonged to the local Search and Rescue. A hiker on the CT had gotten tangled up with some roots and had fallen off the trail and had broken his leg. They had put his broken carcass on the vehicle and carried his butt to the hospital.<br /><br />July 31st section 314 13.6 miles 6 hrs gain 3,320<br />I love the smell of aspen trees in the morning! The CT crossed the trail to Mt Shavano and on the sign post was a small note. “I have lost my camera with our honeymoon pictures from the Phillpines, if found call Ph 000.” This would give me something to do , besides looking at my feet and watching for ankle turning rocks. Within a few minutes I noticed a stretched out body on the <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl5wqFrkutzWCmBTE6ZzuCSluTWEF9WQHUj5QBUS11AAaSjWot25ECb_5Ov_RdV0gsLjg_n-Dm7Rw-dOEXx5Ic2TfZa1738brkMU-eXRLHMJjKp5W7330GZUI2qavjUqKNUK3f_tIL5ZE/s1600/100_5607.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5515696356626016066" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl5wqFrkutzWCmBTE6ZzuCSluTWEF9WQHUj5QBUS11AAaSjWot25ECb_5Ov_RdV0gsLjg_n-Dm7Rw-dOEXx5Ic2TfZa1738brkMU-eXRLHMJjKp5W7330GZUI2qavjUqKNUK3f_tIL5ZE/s320/100_5607.JPG" border="0" /></a>trail, must be a homicide or a tired CT hiker. Dave answered when I walked up to him, so he must be a walker. Dave was originally from England but came to Boulder to climb the mountains but never went home. His wife was meeting him along the trail, that is until she found out she was expecting twins. Maybe that’s how she got pregnant, anyway the doctor advised her not to drive in the mountains. Dave got a friend to meet him at Marshall Pass with supplies.<br /><br />A couple more miles down the trail, I noticed a woman with a tape recorder and a megaphone. This rangers’s summer job was to count Red Tail Hawks, which sounded like a great job. She would turn on the recording of a hawk and wait for another curious hawk to show up. This past month had been tough without much in the way of hawk showing. She ask me if I had seen any from Denver, which I hadn’t.<br /><br />Dave caught up with me and we walked together into a clearing, that had a large white tent in the center. Dave got really excited, because he knew these folks as private outfitters hired by the CT. The outfitters would help CT hikers along different sections of the trail. I get real excited to when I smelled food cooking. Dave and I sat down to a lunch, the one we didn’t have to carry, supplied by the out fitters. I found out they were heading to Marshall Pass and would be there Sunday night, along with Dave.<br /><br />After lunch Dave and I walked along the last ridge before CR 50 and you guessed it a storm came up with loud lightning and thunder. Tall steel towers holding electric lines dotted the ridge. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUniJPI1utboub8nRjBTvfx51X21M1bj-Af91l-o84FNdhyphenhyphenkE7A7GHnSRoy9U8tqRy30G9-kqcttNkYq4tX3zExRU2RrfnGxsHSKMhm7gJ7i67F0zncfE86Zu56C62maNyfAxRuqPisOI/s1600/100_5622.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5515695697096273794" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUniJPI1utboub8nRjBTvfx51X21M1bj-Af91l-o84FNdhyphenhyphenkE7A7GHnSRoy9U8tqRy30G9-kqcttNkYq4tX3zExRU2RrfnGxsHSKMhm7gJ7i67F0zncfE86Zu56C62maNyfAxRuqPisOI/s320/100_5622.JPG" border="0" /></a>I told Dave he could put his tongue against the steel pole and he wouldn’t have to worry about any more kids. With rain falling Dave and I walked a briskly to the road. I wanted to hitch a ride to Alpine Lodge to meet Pam, which is a few miles west. “ What do you think your chances are of getting a ride in this rain storm!” Dave explained. Just than a jeep made a u turn in the middle of the road and rolled down it’s window. It was Ma the woman that I had met eleven days before at Cooper Mountain. She gave me a ride to the lodge and I kept dry.<br /><br />After meeting Pam we took a ride to Salida and we where able to return the favor. As I drove down the highway I noticed a hiker coming out of the woods and it was that Texan, Denny. We picked him up and took into town for a meal and a hot shower.<br /><br />The next day Pam and I took a short hike to a water falls along Brown Creek. The falls was very nice but the most interesting happening was the hikers we meet. The four hikers that I had meet at the CT office in Golden were camped along the trail. They had stopped and climbed Mt Elbert and then they where going to continue on the CT.<br /><br />Aug 2nd Section 15 14 miles 6 hrs el gain 3,440<br />Pam and I enjoyed the morning together as we drove to the Marshall Pass trail head. An older gentleman was fishing off a dock that extended into Fooses Creek. I walked up to him with my pack on because I was curious about the fishing. “Where are you going with that big pack?” asked the fisherman. “I am heading to Durango on the CT.” I said. “I always wanted to walk that trail and bragged that I had.” he said. “Now I bearly have enough strength to wrestle a night crawler on my hook.” he explained. “Remember don’t put off any of your plans, do it now!” he said.<br /><br />Seems like everybody has a goal or objective, mine today was to be on Marshall Pass by dinner time. The CT outfitters barbequed chicken and I had date for dinner. I had a fourteen mile hike ahead of me with 3,440 feet of gain, so it wouldn’t be a cake walk. I smelt the horses before I saw them in the trees. A couple of forest service guys where doing there best to load up the pack <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi718i9Q5imUHd7t_c6-8JQSkhnPAfxYEePCtbmkHyNzrelvUCnB_I3hp-CJYfhB8aKNJBOGMWl9BI4QKHwcM85GgCNCwZNm-POiG7sggHeV_Xl2Y2CNCHUTWUpr8ft86qqIdJB38sA7g4/s1600/100_5587.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5515695307421003170" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi718i9Q5imUHd7t_c6-8JQSkhnPAfxYEePCtbmkHyNzrelvUCnB_I3hp-CJYfhB8aKNJBOGMWl9BI4QKHwcM85GgCNCwZNm-POiG7sggHeV_Xl2Y2CNCHUTWUpr8ft86qqIdJB38sA7g4/s320/100_5587.JPG" border="0" /></a>horses with maintenance gear. The horses on the other hand or hoof where doing their best to keep the heavy gear off their backs. Every once in a while the horse would give a few bucks and a pot or pan would be air born and land with a clatter. I kept walking realizing I couldn’t help and would probably just make things worse. After a few minutes the trail ended so I turned around to ask directions. “Oh you’re on the right trail just keep going!” the wrangler said. I think I should have asked the horse because the trail got worse and worse the farther I walked. I climbed the side of the mountain and when I looked down I could see the trail and it was on the other side of the creek. I hiked down to the creek and the trail was a beauty. At 5:00 pm I came to a fork in the trail and decided to take the right fork but it was the wrong trail. I back tracked and ended up at the outfitters camp site at 5:45 pm and was handed a beer and chicken. We talked into the night about lightning and the CT.<br /><br />Aug 3rd Section 16-17 21.4 miles 11 hours elevation gain 2,840.<br />I had 21 miles to put behind me today if I was going to camp at Baldy Lake. The morning didn’t start off just right either for that kind of mileage. The trail turned to the left and I just kept on following it , that is until it stopped at a over look. I had to walk back and tried to make myself invisible to my outfitters friends, since I didn’t want to look like a fool.<br /><br />At Sargents Mesa I found some water where there isn’t suppose to be water. I could hear the sound of a vehicle banging it way over a very rocky road. The young couple where from Salida and they where out exploring the country side and each other, I imagine. They had some snack food on board and we shared some food and information. I still had 7 miles to get behind me so off I went, I didn’t imagine they needed my help anyway. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv0STc_bfX6LVVDpl6v0fGy0zCnReYmNoJfqT2pawBj6rnwXhVnRIeiTWcp9ki92wWMD4IBHY0TkHdnXE8ctyfndaT5X5VJNHc-R1kfH1z12D2fFJdgsk6LHQGdWU2eq0FOJmhm8yjr2g/s1600/100_5530.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5515694904935339410" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv0STc_bfX6LVVDpl6v0fGy0zCnReYmNoJfqT2pawBj6rnwXhVnRIeiTWcp9ki92wWMD4IBHY0TkHdnXE8ctyfndaT5X5VJNHc-R1kfH1z12D2fFJdgsk6LHQGdWU2eq0FOJmhm8yjr2g/s320/100_5530.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br />At 6:30 pm I had made it to the trail head that lead down to Baldy Lake. The trail was steep and very rocky, but I managed to make the lake by 7:00pm. I noticed a couple of fellas sitting by the lake with a dazed look on their faces. As I set up camp one of the guys walked over and sat on a log. “How far did you walk today?” he asked. “21 miles.” I said. “My Lordy, we can’t and will not make that kind of mileage!” he said. Come to find out the couple had been walking the CT, but his partner had twisted his ankle and attitude. They had originally planned on walking to New Mexico, but Creede sounded real good at this point.<br /><br />After dinner when the sun was setting, the one fella with the bum ankle came hobbling over with two food bags.”Do you want to hang your food with ours, from the bears?” he asked. “No I usually use my food bag as a pillow.” I explained. I noticed both of the hikers talking afterwards and kept pointing up at my site shaking their heads. The last straw was when they found out I get up at 4:30 am and they had plans for a 9:00 am rising of the dead.<br /><br />Aug 4th sec 17-18 /22.3 miles/ 9 hours 2,440 elevation gain<br />I awoke with the morning sun reflecting off the lake and making sunburst shadows on the rocks <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2_8SVUhE-UT7dPhQrNwP4zJkxX_lktFzqwQxr8swWg0MicfpeAFEazpgf-q6zGuF7wMkrsprAe0AvM3oDwkEzqQe5wTEEJy0rZQnR-gYI7m10hFXdOABDWxL2o3x1qxpY3nlWzs4gfS8/s1600/100_5498.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5515694568018182546" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2_8SVUhE-UT7dPhQrNwP4zJkxX_lktFzqwQxr8swWg0MicfpeAFEazpgf-q6zGuF7wMkrsprAe0AvM3oDwkEzqQe5wTEEJy0rZQnR-gYI7m10hFXdOABDWxL2o3x1qxpY3nlWzs4gfS8/s320/100_5498.JPG" border="0" /></a>and trees around the lake. One of the hikers was actually awake and standing gathering in the suns warmth when I left my camp. It was a steep climb out of the valley but it was very rewarding with a view of the lake below. Toady I would locate my food cache if the bears didn’t get there first. I was real excited about finding it and real sad about having to carry 12 days worth of food. A drunk with out a sense of direction must have made the trail, because it just seemed to wonder all over the mountain side. By late afternoon I made it to the top of the mountain and as I walked into a clearing I recognized the aspen trees that held my buried goodies. Everything was as I had left it. I dug out the container with the enthusiasm of a kid at Chrsitmas, hoping he got a pony. I had packed extra Snicker candy bars and I wonder how many I could eat before my eyes rolled back into my head. I loaded up my pack and man did it feel heavy, even with six candy bars in my belly.<br /><br />I crossed the paved CR 114 without a sign of any cars or people. There was a gate that kept cattle from being a hood ornament on th highway and attached to it was numerous notes. One was from Josh the Jay Bird, he was heading back to Denver, never to return. I was going to miss old Jay Bird, even though I had never meet him. The dentist and his wife had left a thank you note for Pam and I.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb71tv0T6YxGCOCaEV8Tr0oaOpemp1heDHsAmQ4LZD-XIznn8g10w_xmVbmZOAEeHnPY2tn-WLADgIdH71rFsR47Go4ple2U146NXYMUw4bk3S-Z6L0tx-cHhLc6Z3-HGQCyyINsI9U98/s1600/100_7954.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5515694166130401570" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb71tv0T6YxGCOCaEV8Tr0oaOpemp1heDHsAmQ4LZD-XIznn8g10w_xmVbmZOAEeHnPY2tn-WLADgIdH71rFsR47Go4ple2U146NXYMUw4bk3S-Z6L0tx-cHhLc6Z3-HGQCyyINsI9U98/s320/100_7954.JPG" border="0" /></a><br />The color of the vegetation and the patterns on the butterflies wings where changing the farther south I walked. By 5:00 pm I crossed Los Creek and found a good spot to camp. The creek should have been called Lost Creek, because the water was just trickle at best. I had to dig a hole and let the water seep into a container. I looked up and saw elk waiting his turn at the stream.<br /><br />Aug 5th section #8 and what ever- 20 miles 1,220 elev gain.<br />Little did I know what was ahead of me on the trail today, the perfect sunrise didn’t give me a clue. In my data book it mentioned a cattle road and a gate, little did I know there was two, one on the right and one on the left. I picked left and thought all was going well, when I came to a gate. I continued and came to a road, which I should have but I was 3 miles south of where I should have been. I stopped a rancher that was more lost than I was but at least I knew it. I could have hitched a ride on the road but no I wanted to continue with the idea that I would cut over on a side trail and reconnect to the CT. At lunch time I came to a camping area with real people and real maps. I found out that I could cut over to the CT by following back roads and trails. I continued on my quest and was helped along by two girls in a jeep. I was looking for trail marker 744, as we drove along the dirt road. Within a 45 minutes we drove into a clearing that held the drivers brother. Her father had already taken a group of horses into the back country site. As the brother explained to me about how had already passed the 744 marker, his sister <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgArST0raFRk-a9lJpwIRjhyphenhyphen0RRhiNfD31lEazIEeQCfgfPEAHRn4UHiTlh-k30VQ-78J67UfOM8SRRku6ZdwGEuhQzVGIzD1nsDUOfVAeeADPMeGL94Sa0jljiHCj9omoR_ZT-S1KpJ_w/s1600/100_7953.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5515693742775105362" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgArST0raFRk-a9lJpwIRjhyphenhyphen0RRhiNfD31lEazIEeQCfgfPEAHRn4UHiTlh-k30VQ-78J67UfOM8SRRku6ZdwGEuhQzVGIzD1nsDUOfVAeeADPMeGL94Sa0jljiHCj9omoR_ZT-S1KpJ_w/s320/100_7953.JPG" border="0" /></a>laid a fishing rod against the horse trailer. The rod fell over and whipped the horse tied to the horse trailer on the butt. The horse got completely spooked and started to kick it’s rear hooves in the air. The horse came around in a circle of kicking frenzy. The horse’s hooves started at the back and worked it way along the trailer. The hub caps and reflectors became targets for the horse shoes. Hub caps and reflectors where flying through the air and landing in the scrub brush beside us. The horse being tightly tied to the trailer is the only thing that saved us from this mayhem.<br /><br />I returned on the road and found the 744 marker, that read, Trail maintained by roundup rider 1985! The trail had the look of not being maintained since that date. I followed it until I came to a junction of three trails. I looked for a passage through the mountains in the way of a pass. I saw a dip in the horizon and headed for it. I found a trail and came to a creek. I followed the creek and thought I had found the Cochetopa Creek since there was giant rock cairn marker. I camped <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqKp-VS8u2TH3oJyxFijaKbw_wi6euPG0pWlHKJDvVD_XszPS3oRd8mhmvOc9mohUpVW92vOeNZcnqrui2TrQ3lyUCLMtVYp7zRNe-TROKdPQDlUTtlNHgHky7VBCLKXsX82ZloMTxvRg/s1600/100_7948.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5515693292651626306" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqKp-VS8u2TH3oJyxFijaKbw_wi6euPG0pWlHKJDvVD_XszPS3oRd8mhmvOc9mohUpVW92vOeNZcnqrui2TrQ3lyUCLMtVYp7zRNe-TROKdPQDlUTtlNHgHky7VBCLKXsX82ZloMTxvRg/s320/100_7948.JPG" border="0" /></a>right along the creek with a idea of getting a early start on my way to San Luis Pass tomorrow morning.<br /><br />Aug 6th no where/lots of miles/lots of gain in elevation<br />As I was eating my breakfast I thought about my climb over San Luis Pass today. I was climbing over the pass on the continental divide when I noticed a herd of elk as they disappeared over the edge of the mountain. Within a few hours I came to a elk that wasn’t as lucky as his buddies and had been struck by lightning. The crow and ravens where making the most of his bad luck as they feasted on the elk for breakfast. The storm clouds started to appear as I hiked by a alpine like. The trail lead down to a willow covered valley, when the heavens opened up. I sat down in the willows and covered my body with a tarp. As I lay under the tarp to protect myself from the hail, I could hear hikers screaming and running on the trail across the valley. After the storm pasted I walked down to the valley as the wet hikers meet me at a stream. Just a few minutes ago these hikers where covering themselves with rain ponchos and trying to crawl under a rock from the lightning strikes. The first group of hikers still had ponchos blown over their packs. “Have you come from CR 149 on the way to Creede?” I ask. “Our leader has the map and he is bringing up the rear.” said the hiker. We looked over the map and I realized I had gone up South Cochetopia Creek instead of North, bummer. It had taken me over 9 hours to get to the wrong spot and I wanted to make it back to my original camp site. I had a Snicker bar for fuel and nothing but time. By 6:30 pm I made it back to my campsite and luckily the weather held out.<br /><br />Aug 7th Section #20-21.1 miles/10 hours/2,960 elevation gain <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs5wdCigf_41qZoU1Nc7QUlkz8TIrNHib0iMi-hpZnNov6MIOO-GD2GdM7Rueb9oThlfL3KlmJvxuqOC1XJzrCxM2uAci_0oAwi78jyGRm8XQYT25lpbASSmXG2NB36j3NRYqbh4lltZg/s1600/101_1741.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5515692597494837266" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs5wdCigf_41qZoU1Nc7QUlkz8TIrNHib0iMi-hpZnNov6MIOO-GD2GdM7Rueb9oThlfL3KlmJvxuqOC1XJzrCxM2uAci_0oAwi78jyGRm8XQYT25lpbASSmXG2NB36j3NRYqbh4lltZg/s320/101_1741.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />After some bush wacking I found the CT and the North Cochetopa Creek. The CT marker was on every other tree and it was a big relief to a lost hiker. I started to met some other hiker and found out some information about the trail and them. The first lady has hiked this section before and really enjoyed it without her husband getting under her hiking boot. She also told me about a fella from England named Dave that was just ahead of me. As I climbed over the pass the daily thunder storm came to meet me. I had a view from the top and I saw Dave walking fast towards the timber. I yelled and he looked up but it didn’t slow him down for a second from the lightning bolts. I ran down the trail and met Dave as we got into the timber. Someone had tied large tarps to the tree branches and we where glad to get out of the wet. We sat under the shelter as a group of young hikers started to come and sit my us. They where from a church in Tulsa, Oklahoma and where on a state wide vacation. They had just arrived in Creede last night, so lots of the students where a little tired, from hiking and the high attitude. One kid stood up so all could see <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9hCbNqPpkVHVb9ILG-CnKRCdFMp-4f3CkUWWvN_gv3A7xiX49U8ORvTAGTcBeLJDCnODJScL6hthmpwRFo_D46ZAjTBjarxkLmgoACyRxMODuQazXnT_01dv8TyLTXrHw_ulzusmLeok/s1600/101_1704.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5515692057832954626" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9hCbNqPpkVHVb9ILG-CnKRCdFMp-4f3CkUWWvN_gv3A7xiX49U8ORvTAGTcBeLJDCnODJScL6hthmpwRFo_D46ZAjTBjarxkLmgoACyRxMODuQazXnT_01dv8TyLTXrHw_ulzusmLeok/s320/101_1704.jpg" border="0" /></a>him and he said. “I am not carrying that pack another foot!” as he dropped his pack. “Without missing a beat the leader said. “Very interesting!” Dave and I slipped away from this high mountain soap opera. Dave was going to walk into Creede and wait for his resupply. I would walk onto a camp site along Middle Mineral Creek.<br /><br />Aug 8th/section 21-22/19.3 miles/8hrs/3,200 elevation gain<br />Giant pinnacle rock formation along the trail that pointed towards the sky, would lead me to Snowy Mesa. The Snowy Mesa is a five mile long tundra covered landscape that looks like it could be from Outer Mongolia. I could see storm clouds forming over the mountains that surrounding Durango. The area didn’t have a bit of protection from lightning for miles, except rock cairns that where eight feet tall. As I crossed CR 119 there was parking area with trees and picnic tables. At one of the tables sat a couple from Texas that where so glad to hear about back packing, that the woman wrote down ideas about gear. After saying goodbye to my new friends, I turned around as a car pulled into the parking lot. Three people got out of the vehicle and one of them looked very familiar, it was Curly, the mega hiker. She had hooked up with a German <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5annJg12EUaxSQYa97TiQCf4zC3ZJd-2U1CIjE1tFYyLOZtLikmO_UuhlXJ9HDLb1lTzC7zxb5WYAiY0b5jEr3o72Lc_dfhqQQbySlb-b_bnhcSjXvbumsFGh-Et7VqRwca-iGZgut68/s1600/101_1684.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5515691590273094226" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5annJg12EUaxSQYa97TiQCf4zC3ZJd-2U1CIjE1tFYyLOZtLikmO_UuhlXJ9HDLb1lTzC7zxb5WYAiY0b5jEr3o72Lc_dfhqQQbySlb-b_bnhcSjXvbumsFGh-Et7VqRwca-iGZgut68/s320/101_1684.jpg" border="0" /></a>friend named Nancy from Denver and they where going to hike towards Wolf Creek Pass. Nancy’s husband would drive to Wolf Creek and pick them up. They begged me to have a early supper with them, which I knew could take some precious time from setting up a camp site later but it was food. After eating I started to get my pack on and getting ready to hit the trail. “Wait we have to help Nancy’s hubby set up his tent.” Curly said. Curly whispered that her friend’s husband was completely useless.<br />By the time we got on the trail it was already late in the afternoon. As we got on the trail the skies started to cloud over with a distant boom of thunder. Nancy was deathly afraid of lightning and she wore a crazy hat, that was suppose to ward off lightning. Curly on the other hand walked right out in the open as we headed for high timber and continued to the crest of the hill. “I want to check on the storm!” Curly said. “We will put that on your tombstone!” I said. With lightning strikes all around, now I know how Curly got such a curly mane. I continued walking after the storm passed, because it was getting late and I needed to find a site with water. I left Curly and Nancy in my dust as I went over a summit that had a antenna on it’s top. The hill side was also covered with hundred of baaing sheep. Two sheep dogs and their owner walked out of their camp site to see me hike by, which must have been quite a sight. Since I was pushing so hard <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8zbX24Gyfy6hRM2PiVzs6Scm4DW3VK1GDYY5YOgUmH5TReJfhtqT6_Me33Zm0Ghh4xqqaalE6fwfTBq8gmltdrQNNcZpp6bAYsOfESEwyk96qoWHPGStqSDb0bwPZNzjQYNOpcrG_-Ec/s1600/101_1670.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5515685662142048914" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8zbX24Gyfy6hRM2PiVzs6Scm4DW3VK1GDYY5YOgUmH5TReJfhtqT6_Me33Zm0Ghh4xqqaalE6fwfTBq8gmltdrQNNcZpp6bAYsOfESEwyk96qoWHPGStqSDb0bwPZNzjQYNOpcrG_-Ec/s320/101_1670.jpg" border="0" /></a>and had got a nose bleed, that ran down my cheeks and dried. I could be a star in one of Stephan Kings movie’s with my face looking that way. I didn’t have any water to clean myself up. I found a small trickle of water as I walked, except the dark of the night gave me only enough time to set up my tent and not walk back to gather water. Like Scarlett O’Hara would say “I’ll think about it tomorrow!” So I slid into my sleeping bag with a bloody face.<br /><br />Aug 10th Section 23-24 17.1 miles/9 hrs/4,460 elev gain<br />I am so glad I didn’t look for the water last night, I could hear the trickle of water in the willows but physically couldn’t find it. After lots of cursing and praying I found enough to wash my bloody face and have a few swallows to spare. A group of elk where hanging out above the willow probably waiting their turn at the trickling water.<br /><br />I was slowly climb the highest part of the CT, at Carson Saddle. I stopped to have a snack and a look at the scenery, when I noticed a whole heard of elk running towards me. The small drainage below me funneled the elk through a narrow slit between two rocks. For ten minutes I watched elk as they took turns walking between the two rocks. I thought I had died and gone to Africa. I continued my hike when I came to the reason the elk had been pushed my way, a mountain biker. He didn’t have a clue that he was the ram rod on the this elk drive. A little later I got a <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCGm_T5mu8ubZrsp1z_uR1AaI9fOCbw2K6rMLT8bhiaeI1w8tMKbCAko7bIBrusISnVSlZXMqvR2X6H6EDfmssSJO2GSuhzfyFhWphjzdLExHivXsKi5ZUR1xwndDzavkJ-WU_ZYly-TQ/s1600/101_1727.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5515685161867897010" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCGm_T5mu8ubZrsp1z_uR1AaI9fOCbw2K6rMLT8bhiaeI1w8tMKbCAko7bIBrusISnVSlZXMqvR2X6H6EDfmssSJO2GSuhzfyFhWphjzdLExHivXsKi5ZUR1xwndDzavkJ-WU_ZYly-TQ/s320/101_1727.jpg" border="0" /></a>extra treat when I found a four power bars in a plastic bag that must have fallen from a mountain biker back pocket.<br /><br />Later I walked down into the drainage of the Rio Grande River and discovered a couple from Del Norte looking for moose. I know where elk are but moose I couldn’t help. They had nothing but good thing to say about Del Norte and the surrounding country side. After lunch I met a group on motor cycles from Durango, that couldn’t believe I had walked from Denver with the pack. The leader of the pack said he had bought a back pack and all the gear but after one trip he thought his back was going to snap. The expacker took all the gear to Durango and sold it and then bought a motorcycle.<br /><br />By 4:00 pm I was crossing Pole Creek when my usual friend the summer storm showed up. I found a nice tree with huge over hanging branches and pitched my tent. I lay on my pad dozing in and out of cat naps to hear thunder and rain drops on my tent. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUyO9P7-_BFJPGlZgnua8AkM-MBSk0rAAI2d4ZWwj4D-HMVH8MfCv7b4doszw-Nj1_eRCdzkaO2wJj1nH1Uevgv1utLTCTfaT5QbvjVD0MeURdNCUu8iXQYAlkz1QV84elffgw-7Xv30k/s1600/100_5363.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5515683075206501778" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUyO9P7-_BFJPGlZgnua8AkM-MBSk0rAAI2d4ZWwj4D-HMVH8MfCv7b4doszw-Nj1_eRCdzkaO2wJj1nH1Uevgv1utLTCTfaT5QbvjVD0MeURdNCUu8iXQYAlkz1QV84elffgw-7Xv30k/s320/100_5363.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Aug 10th section 23-24 17.1 miles/9hrs/4,460 elev gain<br />Woke to clear skies, but everything was soaked with dew and from the rain storm last night. The trail looked like a Sherman tank had gone down the path before me. It was a herd of cows and the soft dirt got churned up by their hooves. The gate had been knocked down and the cows where on the side with the greener grass. One bull was giving me the eye and stomping his hoof but I just kept on walking. As I crossed the Rio Grande river a group of campers where standing around the tables with the food ready to be prepared. One fella came down and started to tell me about his friend George. “George walked 30 miles on the CT!” said this camper. Just then his wife walked down and told the story teller that they where all waiting for breakfast. “I was just telling this hiker about George walking the CT. “Said the camper. “Yea that’s right he walked 30 miles and then came home to soak his feet, he never finished!” she said. On that note the man sheepishly walked over to the fire and started to fix breakfast.<br /><br />At the abandon Beartown site a old battered jeep was parked with an even older driver sitting inside looking at a map. “Have you seen any elk as you have walked ?” asked the man. “I am trying to photograph animals without much luck.” he said. I found out he spent his summers in Silverton and had just taken up the hobby of wildlife photography, except the animals weren’t cooperating. “If I where you I wouldn’t camp out along Elk Creek that’s just ahead.” said the man. “I have heard of people getting sick from the water.”he added.<br /><br />I walked over the mountain crest and than started down the Elk Creek drainage. The view was <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbFG1wI-olavp7lRSnERAMxjJpxIL9Fznj14dYigPt4dATTHGf5iLjbXXBC8ZYL8AFcEWmBXGSBq9JUEzxHqJOAa7NeC_mQEfbpQr1opYbWuxA2-nB-Emsra3oZGqbGsSqDZg5__ubs3M/s1600/101_1623.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5515684500610544834" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbFG1wI-olavp7lRSnERAMxjJpxIL9Fznj14dYigPt4dATTHGf5iLjbXXBC8ZYL8AFcEWmBXGSBq9JUEzxHqJOAa7NeC_mQEfbpQr1opYbWuxA2-nB-Emsra3oZGqbGsSqDZg5__ubs3M/s320/101_1623.jpg" border="0" /></a>perfect with the San Juan Mountains as a back drop. I walked down to some trees for protection from the summer storms and found a spot by the creek for lunch. Groups of people started to walk by, from the Silverton Narrow Gage railroad which had a stop below. Hikers can get off at Needleton and hike to Elk Creek to be pickup or visa versa. Four hikers stopped to ask a few questions, they where cops on vacation from Texas. “ Have you seen any bear, don’t you get lonesome, and what about lightning?” asked the cop hikers.<br /><br />I kept walking and crossed the Las Animas river and the narrow gage railroad tracks. A small boy was sitting by the track with his back pack laying beside him,’ Are you waiting for the train?” I ask. “No my parents went to find a campsite and I told them I am not taking another step!” he said. I met his parents as I walked across the suspension bridge. “There aren’t any camp site ahead.” said the dad. I just kept walking and climbed a small hill over looking the river and found a flat spot. And called it home for tonight anyway.<br /><br />Aug 11th Section #24-25 17.1 miles 9hrs 4,500 gain in elevation<br />As I left the river drainage the trail was a cork screw, as it gained in elevayion. I came to a hiker laying across the trail. It was if he had just fell over in the middle of a step and went to sleep. Half of his body lay on the trail but his shoulder and his head where floating in air off the edge of the rocky edge. I stepped over this sleeping beauty and continued on my way. I could hear the main highway that goes over Molas Pass as the big tractor trailer went roaring by on the way to Durango. There is a series of lakes along the highway and I knew that a general store and camp ground was by the biggest one. I walked over to the store only to find out the owner had taken <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpQGLg2ge14ajoCTXNixqznCwGsUq-glEDUyLQQCv23WN2ez6rbfv9wItxvd_vLXTOmJvkLCy0-DlY9GR9sjn_Hi7OGBpGZZVlor6o-evup3ddL2PhVLKYE4aLaj3jfD504dNLKr6-xZs/s1600/100_0821.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5515682078970784722" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpQGLg2ge14ajoCTXNixqznCwGsUq-glEDUyLQQCv23WN2ez6rbfv9wItxvd_vLXTOmJvkLCy0-DlY9GR9sjn_Hi7OGBpGZZVlor6o-evup3ddL2PhVLKYE4aLaj3jfD504dNLKr6-xZs/s320/100_0821.jpg" border="0" /></a>off for Durango. I sat down at a picnic table and took in the sights of the San Juan mountains and mirror images of the mountains on the lakes.<br /><br />I was walking across a meadow covered with wild flowers, when I noticed a woman and man standing at the edge of a aspen grove talking loudly. Finally the woman walked off in a huff towards the aspen trees, while the guy just stood there. I walked up and he said, “Do you think there are bears in those woods?” “ I have walked from Denver and haven’t seen hide nor hair of a bear!” I said. Than the man had a ocean of questions, like why, where and how. As best I could, I explained the whole back packing thingy to him. As I was walking away and he was still looking into the aspen trees he said. “You know what you have on your back, it’s freedom, something I’ll <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQmJ8uzxg_bk14gxCR7AbNh1mnwUErZK7NQ3jOtNw7HgdrV-VFn91gtiY84devJrtsHcSw0Uydpnutyt2iDZjzpywVhwGBMAZLlx4-eUjbNMNUFSFmvEkU6amvZlakZ9KBAW7aTUFhz4A/s1600/100_0762.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5515680755788878834" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQmJ8uzxg_bk14gxCR7AbNh1mnwUErZK7NQ3jOtNw7HgdrV-VFn91gtiY84devJrtsHcSw0Uydpnutyt2iDZjzpywVhwGBMAZLlx4-eUjbNMNUFSFmvEkU6amvZlakZ9KBAW7aTUFhz4A/s320/100_0762.jpg" border="0" /></a>never have!”<br /><br />Little did I know that I would be in the middle of people wondering just what in the Sam Hill I was doing out here. I passed a few couples as I walked along a trail that was close to the main road. The shiney white shoes and the Gater Aid breath was a give away that these where day hikers. One couple from Dallas just about put up a road block in order to stop and ask me questions. But out of the blue like a lightning bolt the woman asked “Do you ever get tired of looking at the beauty?” Maybe these folks where doing something different then Gater Aid.<br /><br />I had a lot of miles to put on and the skies where getting very dark and weird. I was working my way up to the mountain pass, when I got my first idea of what was headed my way. Ten large hail stones landed on the ground beside me, with a thud. I dropped my pack by a large stone and pulled out my tarp, and covered myself and the rock. It reminded me of a western movie where the soldier lays down next to his horse for protection as the blood thirsty Indians ride around him, shooting arrows. Only this time it was hail for thirty minutes straight. I started to get cold as hail started to pile up around me, I felt like a Seven Eleven Slirpy. The hail stopped for a few second and I stood up and pulled on a jacket and tried to cover my legs with a wind breaker. Within a few minutes the rain and lightning started. The lightning kept hitting on the ridge above like it was trying to find me but my blue tarp cover was throwing off the right range. One time the lightning hit behind me and threw rocks mixed with hail on the tarp. I wasn’t scared but I sure was thinking about my future! Then just as fast as it started it stopped. I stood up and the only ground that wasn’t covered with hail is where the trap was. The trail had turned into a river of muddy water. A black and white dog ran by me, like there was no tomorrow, and there almost wasn’t. I saw his master on the distant hill side and I shouted to him and then he would turn around to look but then he just keep walking. At the top of the mountain, that was covered with sheep, I found out the reason for the fella ignoring me, he was a Basque shepherd and didn’t <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIUXsU7L9jt7rQA8EbS1rq_TRGXjEIHBsSEQhNJvDmyxOhGLYEN0dN7n8xvU_dyapLJbb0LHR53oyjbEy2zlDorFs28bbu7O6K4ODabSBSbMrKqIZJJ450fEgs49KuQFzWVsyZ21zDcBo/s1600/100_0670.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5515681231833223698" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIUXsU7L9jt7rQA8EbS1rq_TRGXjEIHBsSEQhNJvDmyxOhGLYEN0dN7n8xvU_dyapLJbb0LHR53oyjbEy2zlDorFs28bbu7O6K4ODabSBSbMrKqIZJJ450fEgs49KuQFzWVsyZ21zDcBo/s320/100_0670.jpg" border="0" /></a>understand English. There was so much hail I couldn’t tell where the white sheep started and the hail ended.<br /><br />I just wanted to get into the timber and maybe start a fire and dry out. I saw smoke coming from a grove of pine trees. I ran down and found a group of young campers with a grownup leader. They didn’t seem very happy to see me and suggested I walk to the next spot seven miles down the trail. Which I as kindly as I could told them to put there idea where the sun doesn’t shine. I spread my cloths out on the branches around the fire. They had ridden the storm out inside one tent which was flat as a pancake on the ground. After hearing a few stories of my back packing everybody excepted me as on of their own. I set up my tent and we spent the evening sitting around the fire telling lies.<br /><br />Aug 12th Section 25-26 23.3 miles 10 hrs 2,200 gain of elevation.<br />It was sixty mile from my tent to Durango and I was bound and determined to do it in two days. I found out from my data book that the next section didn’t have water for twenty miles, so that might prove interesting. Walking down a logging road I saw a mountain biker coming towards me at a fast clip. He stopped and told me he was going to bike to Durango in one day, so I am not the only crazy one. Around the next curve I met a woman hiker that was doing section of the CT, just the ones that looked interesting. I found out from her that the dentist and his wife that Pam and I had meet had walked past Creede and finished the CT. Later I walked into a picnic area with tables set up for mountain bikers. The owner of the biking company was setting out power bars and drinks for the bikers. Him and I sat and talked while I slammed down a box of power bars. Along Bolam Pass the ground was covered with ripe strawberries, that had my name on them.<br />I set up camp at Hotel Draw and my only worries was the lack of water. I had two liters to last <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQkERDcWho1T8VvcINxOw-Q8xWFcU0QWwTPYB7GN90j0HBRmI_uugK1CjhLaQwfGmT6FhNeRHmw69iHlzVuXZ6cYy1cYg6ILpl-1HoTjePIIG2ep8XWNfjxYopZy73G8_W0FxrK_-CVMI/s1600/100_0722.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5515679767781943298" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQkERDcWho1T8VvcINxOw-Q8xWFcU0QWwTPYB7GN90j0HBRmI_uugK1CjhLaQwfGmT6FhNeRHmw69iHlzVuXZ6cYy1cYg6ILpl-1HoTjePIIG2ep8XWNfjxYopZy73G8_W0FxrK_-CVMI/s320/100_0722.jpg" border="0" /></a>me tonight and tomorrow’s fifteen mile hike before water.<br /><br />Aug 13th Section 27-28 36.9 miles 14 hrs 4,800 gain in elevation.<br />Last day on the trail! I woke to wispy skies, but other wise a perfect morning. A couple from Vail where camped out along the trail eating their breakfast. They had started in Denver 44 days ago and so they wanted the trip to be over rover. Their tent was set up along the slant of the hill and I found out a pesky deer hooked on junk food, had chased them out of the woods last night. Within a few hours I heard the welcoming sound of gurgling water. I didn’t have to walk fifteen miles, I drank till I almost exploded. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWCFpZmmjLFBffjY-2pHdaYpBbjYopDs-c0Gkw4FvSyHC0ZuBSosJOst_N0jw3_fkTSj-8Ot7yVM0mX-LudOKuHB4xYX3NBxwIg8hX08I2UtyeSil3WGiyHWbk0qUTUXcJ3dOVBbAKuaI/s1600/100_0667.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5515679203738022418" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWCFpZmmjLFBffjY-2pHdaYpBbjYopDs-c0Gkw4FvSyHC0ZuBSosJOst_N0jw3_fkTSj-8Ot7yVM0mX-LudOKuHB4xYX3NBxwIg8hX08I2UtyeSil3WGiyHWbk0qUTUXcJ3dOVBbAKuaI/s320/100_0667.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br />I could see Taylor Lake as I came up to the summit of the mountain. A herd of elk where milling around the field below me. Straight ahead of me was Kennebec Pass and it was all down hill from here. A group of kids wearing tee shirts where stand on top of the summit, as dark clouds started to gather. I told them about the power of Colorado lightning storms but I might as well have been talking to a tree. I strolled off the peak and came to a road and I must have been quite the sight with a beard and grime covering what dirty hair didn’t. A group of hikers stopped me and ask the usual questions.<br />“I want you to meet my father.” said the lady. We all walked back to the cars and the trail head. The father pointed to a sign that explained the CT. “ I have always wanted to walk that trail and here you have done it, congratulations!” he said.<br /><br />It was 12:00 noon and I still had 20 miles to walk, but it was down hill miles. The trail snaked it’s way down to the Fagler Creek. I saw a fella trying to come out of the creek bed below by climbing over rock and roots. I reached down and grabbed his extended arm and pulled him up. He was from Reading Pa and had been walking for 55 days. He was deathly afraid of getting lost so he carried compass, maps, CT book and GPS. “I need to knew exactly where I am at, all times.”<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwuy6G6e-vz8Rd5aVzIz2ahcp21eayH7U8ouI74Lpwzzd18sXiej2u110_adqGdrClcGQV4cSYjgznPN_YKgUxKoNBggBPQFMcLITpvEaWo7naOHXHXUG0gBmtdkraYeWuLRIzeWj8sqw/s1600/100_0829.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5515678002418436658" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwuy6G6e-vz8Rd5aVzIz2ahcp21eayH7U8ouI74Lpwzzd18sXiej2u110_adqGdrClcGQV4cSYjgznPN_YKgUxKoNBggBPQFMcLITpvEaWo7naOHXHXUG0gBmtdkraYeWuLRIzeWj8sqw/s320/100_0829.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />By 8:00 pm I was standing on the dirt road 204 that would lead me to Durango the promised land. I got a candy bar out of my pack and a head lamp. As I ate the candy treat I turned on the light and swirled it around in a circle as the first truck pulled up. The couple must have thought it was Martian landing craft when they stopped to find out what was happening. “I would like a ride to Durango if your going that way/” I asked. This couple from California had just come from Durango but agreed to give me a lift. The woman <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC_0xVo2E7fxbUS-XZEnQBhdLQZsdikasT1mmjG8HoZM0J-G8TxanBE5ZC9vJ_azK4hvnt8hdkBs1zfl-ElLSSFZ8A_mHs5VutjdUkmgf-Ndp91ZaZ0slOfckG198kLwBYkBBDnadaYow/s1600/100_0841.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5515678706645005154" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC_0xVo2E7fxbUS-XZEnQBhdLQZsdikasT1mmjG8HoZM0J-G8TxanBE5ZC9vJ_azK4hvnt8hdkBs1zfl-ElLSSFZ8A_mHs5VutjdUkmgf-Ndp91ZaZ0slOfckG198kLwBYkBBDnadaYow/s320/100_0841.jpg" border="0" /></a>rode in the back of the truck which was smart since I hadn’t seen soap for a few days. They dropped me off at a motel and I hit the shower faster than a speeding bullet. I also found a scale and found out I had lost 35 pounds.<br /><br />Now I had to get my skinny butt back to Denver. Dave Guzy had some business to do in Durango so he brought my bicycle down with him. I gave him my pack to take back to Denver by car and I rode my bike back home in five days.<br /><br />In Durango I met Ma the woman that was helping the three amigos walk the CT. One of the fellas had gotten sick from the water at Elk Creek like the photographer had warned me about. Dave the English hiker had finished two days later with the remaining two hikers and Denny. The hiker from Reading, I met him in downtown Durango and we had lunch together<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirj9seQ8T_dlb-hYHzDJuTsdiyyeXbnukoxVylrfV4ucZxe_qXzJqcBqD7GHBV0_FkG4j_AoPwaiQAvpJtTNqAeTOrPFaSSq9bR8RoOKc2qqbdfV45cQDr6whcYlDPKXgjBrOCZ97hWfA/s1600/100_0784.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5515680260579132306" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirj9seQ8T_dlb-hYHzDJuTsdiyyeXbnukoxVylrfV4ucZxe_qXzJqcBqD7GHBV0_FkG4j_AoPwaiQAvpJtTNqAeTOrPFaSSq9bR8RoOKc2qqbdfV45cQDr6whcYlDPKXgjBrOCZ97hWfA/s320/100_0784.jpg" border="0" /></a></div>vince vogelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09409914685847755131noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-113513403868397494.post-79362122368793196482010-09-07T18:27:00.000-07:002014-02-07T14:00:52.860-08:00Fishing three lakes<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFqqBMM86PqzhtOar2kklyIvoR7DENwH0tY8AiAAlkvh48wRDZpdeloSjJJVs2PDSNMTS1mj9lw1E7aPbw3Ckh0JTjRxrEdbkTI_-EnPIr5kUpHscu-FMChepvhwi7jJ3XXXMlkWEh3KY/s1600/100_3965.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5514376047495115394" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFqqBMM86PqzhtOar2kklyIvoR7DENwH0tY8AiAAlkvh48wRDZpdeloSjJJVs2PDSNMTS1mj9lw1E7aPbw3Ckh0JTjRxrEdbkTI_-EnPIr5kUpHscu-FMChepvhwi7jJ3XXXMlkWEh3KY/s400/100_3965.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div>Everybody knows by this time I just can't sit still! A blind man wearing sun glass can see it! To prove this fact I have hiked into three different lakes in the past three weeks, for the sole <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_ZNB7VMXWTxZjtRTuHzlL3eAP7IUrSbgEPBBGRwJigCwXLpUV7ey_BpHtDlw0Fl16Y88VgRKer41yUfI90zT8R1pagNjYrjHKSP2sZ-MifPJnjpvIhsQZkNYJJFc_xervWJ33AQDqSHs/s1600/100_3991.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5514529127308952978" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_ZNB7VMXWTxZjtRTuHzlL3eAP7IUrSbgEPBBGRwJigCwXLpUV7ey_BpHtDlw0Fl16Y88VgRKer41yUfI90zT8R1pagNjYrjHKSP2sZ-MifPJnjpvIhsQZkNYJJFc_xervWJ33AQDqSHs/s320/100_3991.jpg" border="0" /></a>purpose of lowering it's water level by pulling out fish. Luckily for me and maybe not so luck for my prey, I have been sucessful. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkpmwmYhk2hDkYR712dSq5Kg59DGqHTKquYB18An8kTbpcHDOCxMhm2LIKG0d9YAKz0eSB3bCSdItgmSCiiLswmqosLILn9A0J0U_3l_H0WZ0BkIzTOgJ1TwCZDo_NsE_68FGj0H9fbaE/s1600/100_3959.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5514375512320904850" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkpmwmYhk2hDkYR712dSq5Kg59DGqHTKquYB18An8kTbpcHDOCxMhm2LIKG0d9YAKz0eSB3bCSdItgmSCiiLswmqosLILn9A0J0U_3l_H0WZ0BkIzTOgJ1TwCZDo_NsE_68FGj0H9fbaE/s320/100_3959.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br />My first lake was a repeat of the trip I did in June, when I walked to three different lakes and started with North Brush Creek Lake. I caught a boat load of fish so I thought I would go back and just spend time at this lake. I drove down to Westcliffe Colo on Sunday nite Aug 22nd and stayed at the cabin. During the night and into the next morning it rained. I tried to drive on a back road to the trailhead which is tough when it's dry and with the road being like baby poop, it was damn near impossible. I had my truck in four wheel drive and was just slip sliding away. I stopped and bought three newspapers and sat in the cabin with a fire going and waiting for the roads to dry, which they did.<br /><br />The next day the trail was dry and I was able to make it to the lake in a couple of hours, and what a difference 24 hours makes. Blue skies and no baby poop. It's mushroom season in the mountain so hundred of different kind of mushroom where popping their little heads out. I walked all the way around the lake and found a spot that looked perfect. Since I <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjzExcU9MJC1-uiajiTwlScFDw9zaVNS0AR2CUd0tlKU9wOeBKMMxpv95rOT44irCpfJGN1KMoAmzqKweqi9LqBbTp0X2S60bg9-eBLezt_j97A6Lw8-kaokG4f9F6gXiSAe9AIW0IGLg/s1600/100_3962.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5514375281247466386" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjzExcU9MJC1-uiajiTwlScFDw9zaVNS0AR2CUd0tlKU9wOeBKMMxpv95rOT44irCpfJGN1KMoAmzqKweqi9LqBbTp0X2S60bg9-eBLezt_j97A6Lw8-kaokG4f9F6gXiSAe9AIW0IGLg/s320/100_3962.jpg" border="0" /></a>wasn't doing a lot of mileage on this trip I carried a few extra supplies. I brought a cooking pot that I have used for years on a fire and it has 1/2 inch <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijLl6AJwTzDq5vnfZZC92lwovwwaP7-E3Fywv3T4uCzXpE15LdkQpSfTmOdLT1JwjqljVm6JgMTCw1Y_M83oFL9_mSiuY2yLbM47bN_GxJ-Vhs7-gGH0j6MvmOeNXQSuq52rfsP0DeWx4/s1600/100_4013.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5514529584723324594" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijLl6AJwTzDq5vnfZZC92lwovwwaP7-E3Fywv3T4uCzXpE15LdkQpSfTmOdLT1JwjqljVm6JgMTCw1Y_M83oFL9_mSiuY2yLbM47bN_GxJ-Vhs7-gGH0j6MvmOeNXQSuq52rfsP0DeWx4/s320/100_4013.jpg" border="0" /></a>of black soot on the bottom. I also brought a container to make solar herbal tea, oh yea, we are going first class baby. After gathering firewood and setting out my solar container I was ready to make the fish fear me.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAEJYk4rxBWpZWwVSSYiHC3K79aAZqSQXNRfKflC1-n7yVg6mzYeGHEv4b9T3eIaOR4Mw4Rnih0iqHhdVUU5MNBQx5rET9F2TiyCC5djFBXrWIJoyozPU0IsDOEsUyf7e3klm7DbKY9IM/s1600/100_3993.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5514375105099384722" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAEJYk4rxBWpZWwVSSYiHC3K79aAZqSQXNRfKflC1-n7yVg6mzYeGHEv4b9T3eIaOR4Mw4Rnih0iqHhdVUU5MNBQx5rET9F2TiyCC5djFBXrWIJoyozPU0IsDOEsUyf7e3klm7DbKY9IM/s320/100_3993.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />I tried the same lure as last time and caught one fish after a thousand casts. Than I switched to a fly with a bobber, I had more fun watching the fish come up and hit that fly. I was sitting along the shore line facing the sun, with my shirt off for a few hours and I turned into a rotisserie chicken. After catching my fair share of fish, I decided to eat lunch and find some food that might go with my fish cook out. I found a King Boletus mushroom and some Squaw Berries,to put in the pot. I had carrried in some noodles, so I ended up having a fish pasta dish.<br /><br />That night it got cold in the high country and my sleeping bag's zipper decided to go strike and called it quits. The zipper would zip up but then it would open, and my back side got cold, being exposed to the cold air. The next morning I tried to figure out the problem, without coming up with a solution except to leave a day early. I was going to walk up the the Upper Brush lake and give it a try before I walked back to the truck. Half way around the lake I met another camper and his trusty dog. The hiker and the dog where having a time out. It seems man's best friend had found a fresh pile of horse manure and did a royal roll in the stuff. The dog came back to camp all <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw9AMJTt-dlM3ypBi4NBiXB4mqF-4YITkd7suMXRJNQrbVMpc89nh68tTKgdZWNQBDb10rv8e34mowXcCdHBcv_rlLRjPzfoORC3tu28B874dXQyBhB7eAXcxx97L0-PMhfc-nVqM1hbM/s1600/100_4012.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5514374768885807314" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw9AMJTt-dlM3ypBi4NBiXB4mqF-4YITkd7suMXRJNQrbVMpc89nh68tTKgdZWNQBDb10rv8e34mowXcCdHBcv_rlLRjPzfoORC3tu28B874dXQyBhB7eAXcxx97L0-PMhfc-nVqM1hbM/s320/100_4012.jpg" border="0" /></a>proud of his new coat and climbed into the tent, as his master was taking a cat nap. The hiker told me he kept thinking it was something outside the tent that smelled rotten until he turned over and put his hand on the dog's back and left a hand print. He had come to the high country to get away from his troubles but he had put his hand on it. He had gotten into a drag out, knock down fight with his better half and I guess she has a few pounds on him and did knock him down. When I walked up he was talking to himself, like asking and answering his own questions."Maybe I should take her hunting?"he said.<br /><br />I hiked tothe lake and was going to give myself two hours to catch some fish to take home. I caught seven in forty five minutes and they where all nice size.<br /><br />Last Monday I walked up to Shelf Lake with a friend Dave C. The lake is located west of Grant Colo. and it's a two hour walk with a elevation gain of 2,000 feet, give or take. The skies where getting greyer as we got closer to the continental divide. When we reached the open tundra above tree line the rain started with a driving wind. When I saw the lake, snow flakes where landing on <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8jw-zRroaFxKLiMDL42dJ2Fu92D5zpNdSul8yQs0ngou2isupLGaDF1IuCzHbltNRaBmbbAmaSGIiHPq_Hpezk102oK3ZvDupBv4XAx7zUZnzkxBSYaaxfFRhf72cFLR9lu-a2H3yCTU/s1600/100_4025.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5514373563688751970" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8jw-zRroaFxKLiMDL42dJ2Fu92D5zpNdSul8yQs0ngou2isupLGaDF1IuCzHbltNRaBmbbAmaSGIiHPq_Hpezk102oK3ZvDupBv4XAx7zUZnzkxBSYaaxfFRhf72cFLR9lu-a2H3yCTU/s320/100_4025.JPG" border="0" /></a>the surface. We both where shaking from the cold, like a leaves in a wind storm. We tried to hide from the wind in some rocks and that helped a tad. In between shaking I managed to get my fly into the water and hooked a 16 inch cut throat trout. I <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSpe-B_pu4rnt6o2Ks_QLOSrEMkELmvSSU-qyaZQ2B2uh-F8-qDWzdKEKwpUfRx5qIg06Pe9VjHSMBaYOQwfslSKWyuW3Z8d-YcnQbpW6a7xrKCyJ9sw9WK-1g6cWbrHjzDtXNmlmLIis/s1600/100_4020.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5514373817112487538" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSpe-B_pu4rnt6o2Ks_QLOSrEMkELmvSSU-qyaZQ2B2uh-F8-qDWzdKEKwpUfRx5qIg06Pe9VjHSMBaYOQwfslSKWyuW3Z8d-YcnQbpW6a7xrKCyJ9sw9WK-1g6cWbrHjzDtXNmlmLIis/s320/100_4020.JPG" border="0" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioMAaqYslEgHWjcUv41722hjNrifPeC-z6aEHw3JxuXbhulh1XZiXAfk0-K8sj5OOlWtx-ZeFfWnTuvHuuxr2AeuVcrW61GPEoBRmqy3i0OJMqQNEET5qWkvuSFJnqDj9r6VNn_5XxbDk/s1600/100_4023.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5514374357527037906" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioMAaqYslEgHWjcUv41722hjNrifPeC-z6aEHw3JxuXbhulh1XZiXAfk0-K8sj5OOlWtx-ZeFfWnTuvHuuxr2AeuVcrW61GPEoBRmqy3i0OJMqQNEET5qWkvuSFJnqDj9r6VNn_5XxbDk/s320/100_4023.JPG" border="0" /></a>don't care if we do get hypothermia, there is fish to be harvested. The sun managed to come out and we caught six nice size fish. But after several hours <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYTEAIKgjfj3zQwifrQMf7IFg0c6CK9N6b_qXTnVkd-xKXkpsAvXoFuwgbtn38pAtCRdACvWTIcwbKZsdVLn8ASOZH89wS4mmMSjqDC6MRF809dpLQcy5VTNqJF8yRWDun6_YjDTZLuQ8/s1600/100_4033.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5514372523967810514" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYTEAIKgjfj3zQwifrQMf7IFg0c6CK9N6b_qXTnVkd-xKXkpsAvXoFuwgbtn38pAtCRdACvWTIcwbKZsdVLn8ASOZH89wS4mmMSjqDC6MRF809dpLQcy5VTNqJF8yRWDun6_YjDTZLuQ8/s320/100_4033.JPG" border="0" /></a>of shaking from the cold we decided to head to the truck and warmth. As we turned to say good bye to the lake we saw 7 white goats on the mountain side, they seemed to be dressed better then us!<br /><br />Just got back today Tuesday Sept 7th from walking up to Chicago Lakes which is a one hour drive from Denver in the Mt Evans wilderness area. I parked at the old resort and started my two hour walk to the lake. The scenery was great as I hiked into the Chicago Creek drainage. I walked by Idaho Springs lake, which is a catch and release, instead of a catch and grease, which I wanted! A couple of with a pit bull where camped along the lake, with a eye towards a ranger since there's no camping. I think they where trying live off the land, but they didn't seem to be catching any fish and the dog <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT9HTaHP61wdbaLKsztMgMcx_LduOIBorPwbCKZZ6490ENtVtVtrQ66tiHuL9wvmmrp02pyfeW5NV8kjSAUe8ypArEWb5pMPvkHZqVo0wczz0Jq6xdYV3cBhaN6iPUTdpKPeIYbzR9iGg/s1600/100_4045002.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5514371976107320946" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT9HTaHP61wdbaLKsztMgMcx_LduOIBorPwbCKZZ6490ENtVtVtrQ66tiHuL9wvmmrp02pyfeW5NV8kjSAUe8ypArEWb5pMPvkHZqVo0wczz0Jq6xdYV3cBhaN6iPUTdpKPeIYbzR9iGg/s320/100_4045002.jpg" border="0" /></a>was starting to look like a dinner.<br /><br />The lower lake was surrounded by shoulder high willow, that made a iron curtain to be penetrated. I had to walk through a swampy area but made it to the lake. I must have caught forty fish here and the weather was perfect, as a bonus. I kept <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwwk8FdLmQPtLiLd-3rlOhYKXRav3o6QmXrF7OAWe6FcDuvjgUqf0NU2NVgT0il7qbcYTJ5-Pfdi4bgqaa25wLBDci-h4oHBFLcEeOO9vFZGkXyBJnuQd4q9ITqedV6xzX1mmIy4CzSPU/s1600/100_4053.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5514372914710932194" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwwk8FdLmQPtLiLd-3rlOhYKXRav3o6QmXrF7OAWe6FcDuvjgUqf0NU2NVgT0il7qbcYTJ5-Pfdi4bgqaa25wLBDci-h4oHBFLcEeOO9vFZGkXyBJnuQd4q9ITqedV6xzX1mmIy4CzSPU/s320/100_4053.JPG" border="0" /></a>two for dinner. Speaking of dinner Pam and I have come up with a fish recipe. Corn Flake cooked fish. smashed Corn flakes with cajun seasoning, flour, pepper,than mix beer, egg in <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5SF5OQvp000qS_tQLtcVOu2yuEnYSyMdiXbKJ3FWt3cugvbEF8EJH3HcDnHoc_3_XFEka0a8vN8HvpFSytNSHj6tG5CfTDst3lfOOQPfg-x5WHSHuIz4wzERvJBCWbv6lBt0N1yYr9NA/s1600/100_4030.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5514372244243654978" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5SF5OQvp000qS_tQLtcVOu2yuEnYSyMdiXbKJ3FWt3cugvbEF8EJH3HcDnHoc_3_XFEka0a8vN8HvpFSytNSHj6tG5CfTDst3lfOOQPfg-x5WHSHuIz4wzERvJBCWbv6lBt0N1yYr9NA/s320/100_4030.JPG" border="0" /></a>another bowl-dip fish in beer and then dry mix and broil-it's like heaven mate!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6I6lS5pcfw9DvXLu6PDdZ6b6dF-yhaKg-hiGT_yolygQiGrJUBpK38h51_LZLCs7Q0C6S2H7a3L8x0s6yaH17KiSO1Z2jonsUB7tW69__jtQRfvATX4X5QwK9ZA9Ufjul9xbkdiytdfs/s1600/100_4052.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5514371361370501090" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6I6lS5pcfw9DvXLu6PDdZ6b6dF-yhaKg-hiGT_yolygQiGrJUBpK38h51_LZLCs7Q0C6S2H7a3L8x0s6yaH17KiSO1Z2jonsUB7tW69__jtQRfvATX4X5QwK9ZA9Ufjul9xbkdiytdfs/s320/100_4052.JPG" border="0" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdf9bOuv0qWw1pK82HmYYgXqour4XEaPQ3o2eQ67zRkLxvEkz-Dqz-6DIqG1AzvXcoJSgxcCV-JWiGqPM-zb1fc3JkZe-x97KfiYpgDgcvAZfnVpjmbo-_PI96e1uq1ecp1EKBx7Srcec/s1600/100_4036.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5514371607582275186" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdf9bOuv0qWw1pK82HmYYgXqour4XEaPQ3o2eQ67zRkLxvEkz-Dqz-6DIqG1AzvXcoJSgxcCV-JWiGqPM-zb1fc3JkZe-x97KfiYpgDgcvAZfnVpjmbo-_PI96e1uq1ecp1EKBx7Srcec/s320/100_4036.JPG" border="0" /></a></div></div>vince vogelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09409914685847755131noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-113513403868397494.post-48170247051978180032010-08-18T10:24:00.000-07:002014-02-07T14:00:02.819-08:00Biking the Oregon Coast<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506814920968589330" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj6ddvuofhCgCaZ0qqnQi1T66Nu1uod3YhDVQMkoCxF5c-TQtU9A4bJ_SKX5D30pI7d6MRn6rXtldN8UkPttOcHuF1c-ucCOGsHJWLVKXb0bzCmK_6PpL1POLOQwrUhD5lbH74Vf5HMuQ/s400/100_3801.JPG" border="0" /><br /><br /><br />In order to see older posts go to bottom of page and hit "older post." To blow up pics put the cuser on the pic and hit the side of mouse and enjoy.<br /><div>I planned on biking the 400 miles of the Oregon coast with an older bike, an older truck, and a older, well lets just stop there, shall we. Pam my wife and I had biked the Oregon coast 18 years ago with all our camping gear. Pam mentioned then that it would be fun this time to see the little coastal towns through the windshield of a vehicle this time. I still have a little spit and vinegar left in me at the ripe old age of 60, so I would do my touring from the top of a bicycle seat. Pam could do exploring and shopping at her leisure and meet up with us at lunch and for camping time. This time, the "us," would be me and my cousin Paul who lives in Oregon.<br /><br />Let's start at the beginning of this adventure, which is usually a very good place to begin. For the <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpEcrehnqnOGhWEn9E0bGr-tPvLZJEgc6bZnah0_R5LOZX6WguYgBl2kDwIMFnlhWYVvylkbXYjkPApNc5U4C7oVGFD7xPyB-klA2qh0AiwVAgqH1XIZXYJ7p1nUZuvYQhorHIIqwSJQE/s1600/100_3796.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506815258365958130" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpEcrehnqnOGhWEn9E0bGr-tPvLZJEgc6bZnah0_R5LOZX6WguYgBl2kDwIMFnlhWYVvylkbXYjkPApNc5U4C7oVGFD7xPyB-klA2qh0AiwVAgqH1XIZXYJ7p1nUZuvYQhorHIIqwSJQE/s320/100_3796.JPG" border="0" /></a>past 6 months I have been planning this trip to the west coast of Oregon. With the wonders of the internet I found out that it would cost us over $2,000 to get our butts out of Dodge by way of airplane tickets and car rental. Plus we would need all our camping gear for all the wonderful camping at the state parks along the route from Astoria to Brookings Oregon. My faithful truck may have a few miles on the odometer, at 280,000 but it’s spirit is still alive and well. Sounds like the owner! The body of both have a <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBqgqAaB4qFjh8VfwL_U0LBsIEt3MNzTbTPaDhR5Cz2J0PCZsCj90-DT1r19KcyhVzghk9PwzUnBszs4Ks7ku8nswAg3mCOppPeuR31gTJgeXZ3lLkBCgpwbUENbow1Wx8HfqswUJuSxQ/s1600/100_6391.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506863527834101442" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBqgqAaB4qFjh8VfwL_U0LBsIEt3MNzTbTPaDhR5Cz2J0PCZsCj90-DT1r19KcyhVzghk9PwzUnBszs4Ks7ku8nswAg3mCOppPeuR31gTJgeXZ3lLkBCgpwbUENbow1Wx8HfqswUJuSxQ/s320/100_6391.jpg" border="0" /></a>few nicks and dings. By taking the truck it would save us some dinero. Besides we need a good road trip of 2,400 miles to have the wind blow through our hair, since the truck doesn’t have all the modern conveniences like air conditioning.<br /><br />The game plan was for Pam and I to meet up with my cousin in Astoria Oregon on August 3rd and start our bike tour on August 4th. I hadn’t seen my cuz since 1984 so we would have a lot to talk about. His grandfather was my great uncle. His grandfather and my dad use to do lot of fishing together and I would tag along.<br /><br />Pam and I would be leaving Denver on Aug 1st on our road trip that way it wouldn’t have to be a race across America, since we had three days to drive the 1200 miles. We decided to drive west on I- 70 until Rifle Colorado and then we would head through the sage brush desert of Utah. Our first stop was a small Mormon town of Heber City Utah. Our motel was modeled after a Swiss chalet. Above the office they had a manequin of a Swiss farmer chasing a goat thru a wooden steeple set up on a Lazy Susan type contraption. Since it was late, the inn keeper gave us a break on the room cost and also to sweeten up the deal they gave us a chocolate bar, Swiss, what else. As we left the office the manager turned off the spinning farmer on the roof, meaning that the office was closed for the night. Our room had a Swiss touch to it with Swiss cows being milked by Swiss girls, painted on the walls with Swiss chocolate. Ha ha As we walked down the street looking for a restaurant, we were able to read different historical plaques about early Mormons. After several skirmishes with the Indians, the Mormon leader figured it was easier to feed the Indian than fight with them. So every Sunday the Indians and pioneers got together for grub and talking.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy8LBG4Ht3VfiJeL5a2m3GQRJ7uwAewDd92UVKRD5iACCuVcJUHaPPJG4sCof7JPC3f8rOoAZd6gcqGQPD8_Tx4e8VR-FK5IefxK0NKJ27ou-O0JXpyC_HBVsINr8GwuioTejkfOEj9jc/s1600/100_6401.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506862543908222194" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy8LBG4Ht3VfiJeL5a2m3GQRJ7uwAewDd92UVKRD5iACCuVcJUHaPPJG4sCof7JPC3f8rOoAZd6gcqGQPD8_Tx4e8VR-FK5IefxK0NKJ27ou-O0JXpyC_HBVsINr8GwuioTejkfOEj9jc/s320/100_6401.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />The next day we would drive into Idaho on I 84. Several times an older MG would pass us or we would pass it. At a roadside rest stop I got to talking to the antique MG owner. He and his wife were on a cross country trip to Wisconsin and then back to Portland for a MG rally. This beautiful car was built in the 60's and this trip had been quite an adventure, with numerous break downs. In Montana the car wouldn’t start and come to find out the coil and had broken in two. Then there was the time a front wheel broke loose and came off the car. After all theses <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcWl6cP88uo8i1SFPWvgRlIfJlIyucidYCND73T48rognbP1Ov8wU_hDIe25YfrZMWJ8es7QS42Z7TqWn-h3kcnPRSQ1X6whuPEuEnr6JUHK2-vSh0q0qo-Cq1hFY6qizHSVmB2oC-K7E/s1600/100_6374.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506862183845973538" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcWl6cP88uo8i1SFPWvgRlIfJlIyucidYCND73T48rognbP1Ov8wU_hDIe25YfrZMWJ8es7QS42Z7TqWn-h3kcnPRSQ1X6whuPEuEnr6JUHK2-vSh0q0qo-Cq1hFY6qizHSVmB2oC-K7E/s320/100_6374.jpg" border="0" /></a>calamities, the couple had kept their spirits full but their wallets empty.<br /><br />That night we stayed in Baker City, Oregon. The town was founded after a prospector discovered gold in the surrounding hills. We drove through town with a eye out for a small local motel. The Geiser Grand Hotel stood guard over the main street. We checked at the desk for prices and they were a tad high for a room but the restaurant had a special on Prime Rib. The hotel was the queen of the plains in it’s time and with 12 foot high ceiling and large chandeliers, it was quite the show place. After a Prime Rib dinner we drove back thru town and found a motel to fit our budget. Our friends with the grey MG were checking in as we drove up. After unloading our gear I noticed a small motorcycle with large panniers, made for hauling gear parked by our room. I walked over and found out that the motorcyclist is a policeman in Seattle and was close to retirement. He had always wanted to travel by cycle across the USA. After hearing <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNXOMq1mACHBZOaAd6HZnG7vgDlLLv-giagoa2_w34_jyf2eqI9TTG4JPmQ0gllXi_Vl1bSUrqBHSY8vN_odCeO1nFhQt-81l3N3AS5f4ncBiQoqoDxV4aT51zka8ry8Orao9fvwTIIa8/s1600/100_6399.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506859891604243458" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNXOMq1mACHBZOaAd6HZnG7vgDlLLv-giagoa2_w34_jyf2eqI9TTG4JPmQ0gllXi_Vl1bSUrqBHSY8vN_odCeO1nFhQt-81l3N3AS5f4ncBiQoqoDxV4aT51zka8ry8Orao9fvwTIIa8/s320/100_6399.jpg" border="0" /></a>this same old story a thousand times his wife told him, "Go buy a motorcycle, then ride across country and call me." His plan was not only to travel the asphalt roads but to burn up some dirt roads also. He bought a BMW motorcycle that was built low to the ground for back country dirt tracks but could also be used for interstate roads. He had started in Seattle and was going to ride to Albuquerque, New Mexico on the hard pavement. A tour company than would help a group of cyclist ride dirt roads all the way to Montana from New Mexico. He had taken riding lessons on handling the dirt tracks on his cycle but the big truck zooming by at 75 MPH on the interstate was driving him a little crazy. I suggested he rent a small flat bed truck put his bike on the bed and drive it south.<br /><br />The town of Pendleton Oregon, is know for it’s woolen rug company and that would be our first stop this morning. After a few hours of driving we found ourselves in the company store and on a tour of the rug making process. Pam found a rug that she couldn’t live without so we helped out the local economy besides. </div><div><br />The drive along the Columbia River was very interesting with high cliffs and historical plaques <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlcQNnhwSRSkRygfgx0XvvfoIliOzrha5MjmCDVkWhD9rxPlwqRa49vXQMXVbgqUbVhrWHBl77G_AT4h6wLxBPmI_-FBJqvr3eiQ2DP-Bsn6cM7CUnSUKGu-Sy9KOAcWCOg3KwG7t4O2w/s1600/100_3807.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506813023042210898" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlcQNnhwSRSkRygfgx0XvvfoIliOzrha5MjmCDVkWhD9rxPlwqRa49vXQMXVbgqUbVhrWHBl77G_AT4h6wLxBPmI_-FBJqvr3eiQ2DP-Bsn6cM7CUnSUKGu-Sy9KOAcWCOg3KwG7t4O2w/s320/100_3807.JPG" border="0" /></a>along the way. By dinner time we had arrived at Astoria with hopes of finding my long lost cousin Paul. I had a phone number for his wife and after settling into our room, I gave her a call. Paul had gotten the days a bit confused and he and his family had arrived a day early. Paul was camped out at Fort Stevens State park waiting for us, according to his wife Rennie. She and the kids were driving back home and hoped I could find Paul in the trees of the camping area. I had a phone number for Paul but I couldn’t raise him. We drove over to the park with hopes that a friendly ranger could give us a hand. According to Ranger Rick, it’s against the law to give out that type of information, I could be a Al Kidda, instead of just a crazy relative. He did wave his pencil as a clue, over campsite map that could lead us to the quarry. After driving around a bit I parked the truck and walked through a wooded section of the park. I found Paul talking to a fellow biker that had grand plans of cycling to Key West Florida from Seattle. This was his first day and it looked like he was going to get his fuel from Coor’s Light from the empties laying about.<br /><br />We loaded up Paul's gear and headed back to our motel which had a extra bed. After a fresh fish dinner we looked over my plans for biking the coast. My ranger Rick buddy said we could have trouble getting camp sites because the recession had kept all the local yokels, local.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfdveJPj8qfykwmWsBKby0w5HLV-A76TNPm03fzf3jhLPkyiS6Wy8U3kzzWLRiNeBxIuI8dwM21psDvYEhFi5DCu2tWLztcH5-zeQBADmVGpje5ARED6PFi_YczLRChmoG-VlcydJWeFA/s1600/100_3799.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506812300153098674" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfdveJPj8qfykwmWsBKby0w5HLV-A76TNPm03fzf3jhLPkyiS6Wy8U3kzzWLRiNeBxIuI8dwM21psDvYEhFi5DCu2tWLztcH5-zeQBADmVGpje5ARED6PFi_YczLRChmoG-VlcydJWeFA/s320/100_3799.JPG" border="0" /></a><br />(43 miles) The next morning Paul and I jumped on the bikes and got a early start heading south. The temperature was cool with a fog covering the long bridge that lay ahead of us. Paul had a <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSM9fsGdqhjzckDSeiUFw_XoogpCUJ4kgy8vxv_kOEkoFbDfvcjkkg6fsYdpeCK98o6H2IiU9XhopsE2ATiG8FcJQ256eaj67sCxb8FcCMdC10cZMxM0uxrVDvpRpmlh3djNUULwS_snc/s1600/100_3798.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506811942551538066" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSM9fsGdqhjzckDSeiUFw_XoogpCUJ4kgy8vxv_kOEkoFbDfvcjkkg6fsYdpeCK98o6H2IiU9XhopsE2ATiG8FcJQ256eaj67sCxb8FcCMdC10cZMxM0uxrVDvpRpmlh3djNUULwS_snc/s320/100_3798.JPG" border="0" /></a>different route planned out of town so we could skip the bridge, and maybe not become a grease spot from a passing lumber truck from hell, before the trip started. The upside of this decision was that it took us to Lewis and Clark’s winter camp at Fort Stevens. The early explorers used this camp and lasted out the cold wet winter. The museum and rebuilt camp was done with style and detail. After a few hours of visiting the site we moved on down the road.<br /><br />Our plan was to meet Pam each day half way between our final camping spot and have a picnic out of the back of the truck. Our first stop would be Manzanita, a coastal tourist town. Cannon Beach just before lunch, with it’s hay stack type structures made of solid rock jetting out of the beach was spectacular. Shortly after the beach we had to bike through a long tunnel. A light can be turned on, by the means of a timer, just before a biker enters the tunnel. It’s kind of a race to see who gets extinguish first the light or our legs as we buzzed through the tube on a slight incline. Manzanita had it fair share of tourists, all looking for something different but all needing a parking space, which is limited. Pam found a parking space for only RV’s but since we were going to eat out of the back of the truck and stay with it, we decided to change the rules a tad. A young parking policeman came by on his bike and kept a eye on our progress as we devoured our meal. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0QhffJ4VZay3b_XZzxGoINDsRxr2sLQzBNBLq1klVis7FH0sooUAIN4dfLG-q2YMRvMs1eP4PDp0lzSg8BX20w_3fuUzJIM1zmuu2M3HGag22owUoE94zLtkVzc2YP5JxuNR3pTrupEo/s1600/100_6413.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506861144633880610" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0QhffJ4VZay3b_XZzxGoINDsRxr2sLQzBNBLq1klVis7FH0sooUAIN4dfLG-q2YMRvMs1eP4PDp0lzSg8BX20w_3fuUzJIM1zmuu2M3HGag22owUoE94zLtkVzc2YP5JxuNR3pTrupEo/s320/100_6413.jpg" border="0" /></a>After lunch, Paul and I rode our bikes into the main part of the town so Paul could buy a book. After going around the block several times Pam gave up the idea of parking and drove to the <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_jnv3ZsiyfsQvCjK5ZfTlbI3IVBez80u4KJkS4eucwNnQYZbBkDmUBOA2Q0nV1eTe31vO-2_bROMt2TI8nCmZhmAgZBXtGE1UDVlQeKoycbgLxo29zTKBxaEVzunLMqhg7nDL21360Vg/s1600/100_3849.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506814616804667970" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_jnv3ZsiyfsQvCjK5ZfTlbI3IVBez80u4KJkS4eucwNnQYZbBkDmUBOA2Q0nV1eTe31vO-2_bROMt2TI8nCmZhmAgZBXtGE1UDVlQeKoycbgLxo29zTKBxaEVzunLMqhg7nDL21360Vg/s320/100_3849.JPG" border="0" /></a>Nehalem State Park in order to acquire a camping spot.<br />The park ranger had one space open because of a cancellation. The state parks in Oregon are some of the best I have ever used. If you are a biker hiker then a space is $8.00 a person per night. The site comes with a picnic table and after riding a bike all day the hot showers, with limitless hot water were perfect. The views are top notch also with beach side settings. Pam had been able to buy some fresh salmon, so we had pasta with salmon on the barbie, what a treat. We had brought coolers full of goodies from the Denver, so we had all the comforts of home.<br /><br />(50 miles)The next morning Aug 5th we woke to fog and drizzle, the norm for the coast. It was the perfect temperature for biking but a bit cool for sitting around at night. By early morning Paul and I had biked into the Tillamook Cheese factory, we were going to meet Pam here at noon. We had a few hours to wait, which was nice with lots to see and smell. By noon Pam showed up and we had a picnic in the parking lot and than took a small cheese tasting tour. After a few purchases of assorted cheeses we moved on down the road. We all wanted to visit the Cape Meares Lighthouse but it was few uphill miles out of the way. Paul and I where huffing and puffing by the time we made it to the turn off for the light house. We had stopped at the crest of the hill when Pam pulled into the parking area. A trail lead up to the biggest Sitka pine tree in Oregon so it was a relief to get off the bike and walk for a spell. The trail was through a rain forest of large trees and tiny bright flowers. The tree was massive and with a few pictures taken <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBk0c4E_dRa5yTQPHqZuim6DMFFu3D54WKIwp_MTOa9MZh3CdicEjAc5kbYnF3eM_4mJCXdZNf4fXsdt80DKgtukiuxFMwDYqO0uGsixTruM_PphyWZkhmJPJkj_9AyxrrAJmE_4OORIA/s1600/100_3824.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506814277604717842" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBk0c4E_dRa5yTQPHqZuim6DMFFu3D54WKIwp_MTOa9MZh3CdicEjAc5kbYnF3eM_4mJCXdZNf4fXsdt80DKgtukiuxFMwDYqO0uGsixTruM_PphyWZkhmJPJkj_9AyxrrAJmE_4OORIA/s320/100_3824.JPG" border="0" /></a>we walked back to the road. The highway down to the light house would be easier with Pam driving and our bikes locked up in the parking lot above. The light house sits on the point of land that jets out into the rolling sea. The light comes from a bright lantern behind a unreplaceable glass lens that reflected light out into the ocean. It’s been out of service for a few years and is now a museum. Last year vandals took a high powered <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrTq6jaQbk8PXzn5xzmksenXd9n66dqOkKs6b5PIDRJcPFoTl-4lG2-vN7HWWLUugd5a4OPNWrb5YZts07aFPyzfXhh2k7nYmGJ05yBjkgYThPuWwVwlpOt9EMwLzfCc4lKweJzKJ3WMQ/s1600/100_6371.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506860615899136610" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrTq6jaQbk8PXzn5xzmksenXd9n66dqOkKs6b5PIDRJcPFoTl-4lG2-vN7HWWLUugd5a4OPNWrb5YZts07aFPyzfXhh2k7nYmGJ05yBjkgYThPuWwVwlpOt9EMwLzfCc4lKweJzKJ3WMQ/s320/100_6371.jpg" border="0" /></a>rifle and shot through the windows of the tower and destroyed the lens that stood behind. They caught the clowns but no one seems to know what the state of Oregon is going to do to replace the lens.<br /><br />Our next stop would be Cape Lookout State Park. Pam had made a wrong turn and I was able to get to the park before her or Paul. There wasn’t any camp spots left and I could only get hiker biker sites. The very down side was the rule by this ranger of no parking of support vehicles within 15 miles of the park. Being a smart ass and being tired I said “Should we park back in Portland!” While driving down to the camp site, I noticed a parking lot the size of 2 football fields empty. We unloaded our gear and walked into the site which was a distance off the road. Then after dinner we decided to have a shower. Pam and I drove over to the showers and Ranger Man came running out of his little office. “ You can’t park here!” he said. “We are just going to take a shower.” I said. “By the way why can’t we park in the empty lot?” I asked. “It’s a $350.00 fine if you do!” said Ranger Rick. “But I have a cancellation on a spot if you want that.” he said. So we got a refund on the hiker biker and ewe had to gather up all our gear and move it across the <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisFXBQs8o4rDj7_9kCwQ4yIhOSErDU8gRGFsjE-LNuI9_ZBMTp711SuUj7SPRwpkQ9Jd1rFt1WArHGIMa1GsVuzL0sv9UuVkMXh2MxuvxL5XzwrlqM_Onkow8sUYDkSOGRhzDB9jV01UY/s1600/100_3913.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506813540046639394" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisFXBQs8o4rDj7_9kCwQ4yIhOSErDU8gRGFsjE-LNuI9_ZBMTp711SuUj7SPRwpkQ9Jd1rFt1WArHGIMa1GsVuzL0sv9UuVkMXh2MxuvxL5XzwrlqM_Onkow8sUYDkSOGRhzDB9jV01UY/s320/100_3913.JPG" border="0" /></a>park. From then on we made reservations for future camp spots, but you had to do it 2 days in advance, then there was the $8.00 per site fee for just the paper work. The whole deal was something for us to talk about for a few days.<br /><br />(65 miles)The next day would be a motel day in Newport for Pam and I. Paul would camp out just below Newport so we didn’t have worry about park reservations and ranger rules. The<img class="gl_photo" alt="Add Image" src="http://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gif" border="0" /> beaches along the coast are very sandy and wide. If you see a woman wearing a bathing suit in the water everybody stops to look. Not for her figure but the temperature of the water, it’s in the 60's and everybody wondered how this fool could stand the frigid water. The beach could be miles long with a 1/4 mile wide beach without a living soul near the ice water. The constant wind blowing south in our direction of travel helped us out and the kite flyers. We stopped at Pacific City to watch some kite flyers, that had $5000 kites floating in the air. They were in ths shapes of sea creatures, the kites, not the flyers. Octopus with 50 foot arms and squids made up the sailing event.<br /><br />After a short coffee break at Neskowin, Paul and I decided to meet at were the road forks off. On the left towards Vogel’s Campground (not related) was a road that went around the mountain. If you went straight this road would lead you over the mountain. I forgot my own instructions and <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoXJ512pUORrADhZqkJmAe_8rpiONTf_bHRQGApdwU4kvx6YQS7LHxotT_gF7d3g7_-UywivDYATkdTCe6DJVPnc-rUhbu0RWkN5uz2GYgNuglBBXZOE5uf129lf13_xcA8td8zl0yyAQ/s1600/100_6379.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506860116538286370" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoXJ512pUORrADhZqkJmAe_8rpiONTf_bHRQGApdwU4kvx6YQS7LHxotT_gF7d3g7_-UywivDYATkdTCe6DJVPnc-rUhbu0RWkN5uz2GYgNuglBBXZOE5uf129lf13_xcA8td8zl0yyAQ/s320/100_6379.jpg" border="0" /></a>didn’t stop and went up the mountain. It was a steep climb and all was going fairly well, when I noticed it was hard to steer my bike. A small staple was sticking out of my front tire and I was losing air fast. I pulled over and change the tire but when I went to pump up my tire, this tube wouldn’t hold air. I kept looking back for Paul to come up the hill, than Pam came driving by with <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizaaSHOIvIA_PfW3Nay-dvrSKiI1y2_m-aArCDGWDfjRO7NTgaBqeWIBySponVZyeExs2HbXNZvas_OaL-r7JGklwlUgz7u4JaIEVTqqYJF_YCiMMHQPBkLJFDskljA2ONFv1W5LbD_NQ/s1600/100_3811.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506812644770756706" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizaaSHOIvIA_PfW3Nay-dvrSKiI1y2_m-aArCDGWDfjRO7NTgaBqeWIBySponVZyeExs2HbXNZvas_OaL-r7JGklwlUgz7u4JaIEVTqqYJF_YCiMMHQPBkLJFDskljA2ONFv1W5LbD_NQ/s320/100_3811.JPG" border="0" /></a>a toot of her horn. I found out my new tube had a tear in it and air was gushing out, faster than I could put it in. I fixed the old tube and pumped it up with the pump from the truck. We waited for Paul in the town of Lincoln and than I remembered I was supposed to wait at the fork in the road. As Yogi Bera says if you come to a fork in the road “TAKE IT!” Which I did, just the wrong one!<br /><br /><br />I had reserved a room in Newport, Paul and I got there first. Pam was out shopping, saving us money, left and right. Paul rode onto his campsite and Pam and I explored by truck the harbor. We had a great sea food dinner as we watched the fisherman come into the harbor below our window right at table side. Now it was laundry time with sweaty biking clothes making up the bulk of the load. Pam had loads of fun watching all the different people come in and use the laundry, every size, shape and color and I am not talking about the clothes. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8Bh92eL_Nl7KDj5l4DKFZZSq8f4Eui93URPZZrMYKjyDu-LuMqX6yeaMGnpaa7w8-LMrBBUV8_9NePWeAHkIkxOQgThLJHJiCLSuH4r-9_YaJNOFrRm1G-O-unzPKU8TY7OmhQkzoYqM/s1600/100_3815.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506811058505530978" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8Bh92eL_Nl7KDj5l4DKFZZSq8f4Eui93URPZZrMYKjyDu-LuMqX6yeaMGnpaa7w8-LMrBBUV8_9NePWeAHkIkxOQgThLJHJiCLSuH4r-9_YaJNOFrRm1G-O-unzPKU8TY7OmhQkzoYqM/s320/100_3815.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br />(55 miles) As we worked our way south my cuz kept telling us the weather was going to get warmer. I think it was wishful thinking on his part. Every morning would be cool with mist and by late afternoon the fog would burn off. Another tunnel with the same type of flashing lights was just before the town of Florence. This time the tunnel, just for some more excitement had mud along it’s walls. The bike tires on this slippery mess kept trying to send us out into traffic.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNjnhvHkqF4lCcb480j9U367TvMHTnAERzv5CU1brdR-BZS1CGkp4RzeygU8IZoCGotClTc79qhLp2iL0iUccuK1dk-mdWf3KzidWj1lrS9ZQuOaMSu7DTSq8a6uqfguwBfDBY8QpMkJk/s1600/100_3803.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506810745874482834" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNjnhvHkqF4lCcb480j9U367TvMHTnAERzv5CU1brdR-BZS1CGkp4RzeygU8IZoCGotClTc79qhLp2iL0iUccuK1dk-mdWf3KzidWj1lrS9ZQuOaMSu7DTSq8a6uqfguwBfDBY8QpMkJk/s320/100_3803.JPG" border="0" /></a><br />The scenery was changing as we passed by large sand dunes. Along with the dunes was dune buggies and motorcycles. They were roaring around the dunes as we pedaled by. The Jessie M. Honeyman State park was located in one of these dunes along with a fresh water lake in it’s center. After getting our camp set up Pam headed back to the town of Florence just to look around. She came back with a fresh caught tuna and a Dungess crab. Paul didn’t have a chance <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlz4255N_1zlm7J5MyhF6gxQ_V1UjZmmVaLRvCrr2PS4AHJywwM9rda-CuzspVVQl2HLzZdquQgrZlZ7oqIJI5yMzSqTiCvIYO8kGHP-SJyzMxLLjykjSuZbq4P7AgIthvIf4sJX-qros/s1600/100_3802.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506810446430711202" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlz4255N_1zlm7J5MyhF6gxQ_V1UjZmmVaLRvCrr2PS4AHJywwM9rda-CuzspVVQl2HLzZdquQgrZlZ7oqIJI5yMzSqTiCvIYO8kGHP-SJyzMxLLjykjSuZbq4P7AgIthvIf4sJX-qros/s320/100_3802.JPG" border="0" /></a>when Pam and I dug into the crab, shells and butter was flying. We put the tuna on the barbie and with a beer, life couldn’t have been better.<br /><br />We noticed a lot of kids running around and the campground was full as usual. Most of the sites were reserved from a adoption agency that gets together every year and have a camp out. Lots of the kids were snow boarding on the sand dune right in the camp ground. The whole place was noisy with kids running around and families gathering around talking.<br /><br />(55 miles) Paul and I had a pretty easy day with a lot of rolling hills ahead of us. At the town of Lakeside I had gone behind a large billboard sign to water the flowers when I noticed a little green plastic container stuck in one of the supports for the sign. After opening it we found out it was from a Letterboxer. This a group that hides these boxes all over the world and with clues from the internet the members try and find the boxes. Inside the box was a roll of paper with names of people that had found it. We wrote down our names and than I put it back where I had found it. This would be Paul’s last day of bike riding and later his family would pick him up. Pam <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI-wv9xPsN6b-55OPd3N3vxXwQXNXZydidfIOxXcRSqFUvJk83N_8D-63nJNv9fOdF97ilK-DuxW6vs32FxxWPs3G8oCLBuT54nQrG59T3T7zgzxGrAHqSA2IsLtjvo9v6KFjGyabmLU8/s1600/100_3805.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506810019735275410" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI-wv9xPsN6b-55OPd3N3vxXwQXNXZydidfIOxXcRSqFUvJk83N_8D-63nJNv9fOdF97ilK-DuxW6vs32FxxWPs3G8oCLBuT54nQrG59T3T7zgzxGrAHqSA2IsLtjvo9v6KFjGyabmLU8/s320/100_3805.JPG" border="0" /></a>was out shopping so Paul and I stopped into a burger joint at the town of North Bend. After lunch when we walked outside we heard a car horn and it was Paul’s family. A side road led us into the Sunset Bay camp area. Within a hour of bike riding we were all talking in the parking lot of the state park. Pam and I said our goodbyes and the other Vogels headed home.<br /><br />Pam and I drove back to the first town of Charleston and bought some muscles and we had another crab for dinner.<br /><br />(90 miles) Today I would ride to Gold Beach right past the Rogue River bridge. Than I would meet Pam and she would take me back to Humbug Mountain State park. That way I would only have 30 miles to pedal tomorrow to Brookings and the end. The scenery was great with large rock formation sticking out of the sandy beaches. A tail wind was a welcome feeling on my back <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv-QCUywZCP-T09rvff3QVG0t4LPoZ3A-zpKMXV870Ptujo0tdOKI-Yf8nf3XbTVnqMGd24uocRB-sZe7swjBmZvi2NURgCuXSbuNPGDGMafYmwP4o-23_K-YOQ3wf5J1N2hczn7jp-2Y/s1600/100_3812.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506809489525444146" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv-QCUywZCP-T09rvff3QVG0t4LPoZ3A-zpKMXV870Ptujo0tdOKI-Yf8nf3XbTVnqMGd24uocRB-sZe7swjBmZvi2NURgCuXSbuNPGDGMafYmwP4o-23_K-YOQ3wf5J1N2hczn7jp-2Y/s320/100_3812.JPG" border="0" /></a>side as the wind pushed me along. Hundred of small fishing boats dotted the bay as all the fisherman where looking to land a salmon on the Rogue River.<br /><br />Back at the camp ground we met up with a couple of bike riders that had started in Vancouver BC and where headed to LA. I had talked to them several times along the route. It was the wife’s first bike trip and maybe her last, but we tried to give her some inspirational upbeat ideas.<br /><br />(30 miles) This would be the last day for the biking part of this trip. Pam and I drove back to Gold beach and had breakfast. Then I jumped on my bike and headed towards Brookings and the end. Foggy cool weather was along the shore but it was the right temperature for what I had <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB7-BQ84N1zn69xnvgzED9J5ZO5VJEmR7aPnsaBnKw9NU0YCNHesDsc_weZ6phUFVRSaD7t8o4D2OYeJVKNTP0b-yYYuXL9TYbyLBN3gNm_fDEtLcQbxfhV3o8ZMHEJN4-jwt3-L4SmYY/s1600/100_3829.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506808775254372274" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB7-BQ84N1zn69xnvgzED9J5ZO5VJEmR7aPnsaBnKw9NU0YCNHesDsc_weZ6phUFVRSaD7t8o4D2OYeJVKNTP0b-yYYuXL9TYbyLBN3gNm_fDEtLcQbxfhV3o8ZMHEJN4-jwt3-L4SmYY/s320/100_3829.JPG" border="0" /></a>to do. I crossed the last mountain and than a clean ride to the California border. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6H9vRaPYF-LcAWk8zX-6VX1lfTFNg2vxG8_yWPU7DgYfXaHBoFDg-d-r2CdPWQ3Q67s5_Fp1ZzFAmDdonoA4HW0cnA-8CFIu8fbRph0c_PbmzSrQAnMAP03LwvhwDqKS0Dh1md0u-Tc8/s1600/100_3835.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506808407948536626" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6H9vRaPYF-LcAWk8zX-6VX1lfTFNg2vxG8_yWPU7DgYfXaHBoFDg-d-r2CdPWQ3Q67s5_Fp1ZzFAmDdonoA4HW0cnA-8CFIu8fbRph0c_PbmzSrQAnMAP03LwvhwDqKS0Dh1md0u-Tc8/s320/100_3835.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br />I changed my clothes and Pam and I headed to Crater lake, the easy way by truck power. The Smith River forest was grand with deep timber and a blue river. By 6:00 pm we drove up to the Crater lake lodge. It costs $250.00 to stay here with a 2 year wait and the dinner reservation was booked until 9:00 pm. So we had a picnic in the truck. The lake is huge and I have heard if you give everybody 80 gallons of water out of Crater lake in the world you would have water left over. The lake is 1,900 feet deep, with no streams feeding it, the water comes from snow melt <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidQhmjHBAPPpMBx4L6fJc9FDuZGpOCvod3CGLI2zev0kI9pbagmDXXk52X4MoRr61TTn575FppjCEYXqs0M7OQtwEvOleTarv6MvHahsXpFkJCnIn9sfaik8FZKpEKHxZvDnCJNcg0-YY/s1600/100_3851.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506808009829042994" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidQhmjHBAPPpMBx4L6fJc9FDuZGpOCvod3CGLI2zev0kI9pbagmDXXk52X4MoRr61TTn575FppjCEYXqs0M7OQtwEvOleTarv6MvHahsXpFkJCnIn9sfaik8FZKpEKHxZvDnCJNcg0-YY/s320/100_3851.JPG" border="0" /></a>and rain fall.<br /><br />We drove north towards Portland since Pam had to fly home the next day. At the town of Chemult we found a old hotel. We got the last room that was made for a large family, the room had 4 beds. The ceiling was made of old timbered beams. I think they filmed the Walton’s or maybe Psyco here. Ha ha<br /><br />The next morning we woke up alive which can be a good thing. Outside of Portland is a small town of Newberg and one of Pam’s friends from work bought a winery here 8 years ago. We gave Dr. Mclure a call and stopped by to see his operation. What a nice spread with rolling hills and grape vines for as far as the eye can see. The operation is run by his whole family. It cost $55,000 to get the grape vines ready and another $55,000 to harvest and bottle the wine, before they can sell one bottle!<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3nOAgb9UecfjzB-ZurcyK4vMNT8SO9mPGGLIkm3JO-vPXqAKxWUxpYUvLpGcMvCvCiUzIfRrkBVLifGD7kGWr2-C8PCanq-YHLjp0FVWMXOWbv2UxG1qUXMRtqVhDjQpGe_vLYBIGCho/s1600/100_3868.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506807679323780514" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3nOAgb9UecfjzB-ZurcyK4vMNT8SO9mPGGLIkm3JO-vPXqAKxWUxpYUvLpGcMvCvCiUzIfRrkBVLifGD7kGWr2-C8PCanq-YHLjp0FVWMXOWbv2UxG1qUXMRtqVhDjQpGe_vLYBIGCho/s320/100_3868.JPG" border="0" /></a><br />After checking into out motel by the airport in Portland we took the train into town for our last meal. Our last dinner would have to be a seafood dish which it was. We looked around the city a tad and than took the train back to the motel.<br /><br />The next morning after dropping off Pam at the airport I drove towards Mount Hood with a idea of spending a few days hiking around the mountain. I stopped at a national forest headquarters <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicoq9wLbSUoqmwZilvVUee9UEn-FjIwPxMNPe4V5FcVttUPe0vJHA87l07uwEDt_0cYaYztk7T9zuvbApKYwPJcP_IxLL7aiFI9THUuYthWA-Jix1ps3cpAQHRcv9bY5oSLxesxw4dNuI/s1600/100_3903.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506807158063835698" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicoq9wLbSUoqmwZilvVUee9UEn-FjIwPxMNPe4V5FcVttUPe0vJHA87l07uwEDt_0cYaYztk7T9zuvbApKYwPJcP_IxLL7aiFI9THUuYthWA-Jix1ps3cpAQHRcv9bY5oSLxesxw4dNuI/s320/100_3903.JPG" border="0" /></a>to get some information on the Timberland Trail around the mountain. The heavy set lady told me most of the trail got washed out in 2006 and the other parts aren’t marked that well. I picked up a few maps and drove on anyway. The lodge at Mount Hood is beautiful. The Civil Conservation Corp did a great job in the 30's. Large beams and carvings on the wall were every where and they even carved the furniture.<br /><br />After taking a few pictures I found the trail and followed it. Lots of people were hanging around the trail head and a few were heading to Paradise Park. I followed the Pacific Coast Trail until it <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1wDD-x4f2N1-MdBvTsaEMwkzqP6T9dkr_efxthWtZNynLsDp-niRxLDiJ0gOIs2qlt8zFXyE-f05CCpDmmxa4_Haj_KnfaBzb_W2fZxCKjhHYyEgshS9SDcZ5WaGYjqB8pYVltZhvh9k/s1600/100_3915.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506806101642683202" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1wDD-x4f2N1-MdBvTsaEMwkzqP6T9dkr_efxthWtZNynLsDp-niRxLDiJ0gOIs2qlt8zFXyE-f05CCpDmmxa4_Haj_KnfaBzb_W2fZxCKjhHYyEgshS9SDcZ5WaGYjqB8pYVltZhvh9k/s320/100_3915.JPG" border="0" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg66c2DOBfPomh7brV8OZIVcZPYpXz3r91XS1zauczWEPhFW1KDfRnsTGFJPDgzTyrP6Ffponi5jdQ-yMnwp0tA8qVnkQeQardiRRVVWa7DnL05TD5lLJJFvUIvmcdvQ2IG1gVuR__U2M0/s1600/100_3891.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506806434651663794" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg66c2DOBfPomh7brV8OZIVcZPYpXz3r91XS1zauczWEPhFW1KDfRnsTGFJPDgzTyrP6Ffponi5jdQ-yMnwp0tA8qVnkQeQardiRRVVWa7DnL05TD5lLJJFvUIvmcdvQ2IG1gVuR__U2M0/s320/100_3891.JPG" border="0" /></a>died at a big wash out at Devil’s Canyon and then the trail braided out in 4 different directions. The Paradise Park was starting to sound real good about now. I followed a trail that lead me back to the base of the mountain at Paradise Park. It had turned into a hot sunny day and 7 hikers were all hanging out under a pine tree. They looked like cows you might see in a pasture. The group were all from Texas and had been walking for several days. This was their last day and the thought of a good breakfast tomorrow morning at Mount Hood lodge was calling to them.<br /><br />After a 30 minute chat I continued on my way in the hopes of finding a camp site that was <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidm-BQ3RotD3twIrAwQNmQQbMNu69SrsVuz2kSzis-rpWBOrXMAZZE8PovsJ9MAsXJYrEMK1azGMeZIDJomsssr3nyL-fQdsFaxNMmcNmlNovtzizbJ7zYMlbUuUG7ialLLej_i6cP-gw/s1600/100_3921.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506805710762926642" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidm-BQ3RotD3twIrAwQNmQQbMNu69SrsVuz2kSzis-rpWBOrXMAZZE8PovsJ9MAsXJYrEMK1azGMeZIDJomsssr3nyL-fQdsFaxNMmcNmlNovtzizbJ7zYMlbUuUG7ialLLej_i6cP-gw/s320/100_3921.JPG" border="0" /></a>shaded from the sun. I met 2 other hikers with the same idea, but all the sites were in the open. I camped on the end of a long open plateau. Since Mount Hood is a extinct volcano all the ground is composed of sandy ash material. The stuff gets into everything. My tent was directly in the <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNlzhoFXmouaBHIRIULqXyRcS5p4ajFFok-BQ9c_pzIcyNSvWlp4BPTsCgiLIqYx3KPoHbhx1Bxsyp1dD2tHtFK2GWAw_8qxIyPYR3C3kIozSCJGLCPp7sOaqxH6yUMh7QM_65BrCfVoE/s1600/100_3936.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506805298004778562" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNlzhoFXmouaBHIRIULqXyRcS5p4ajFFok-BQ9c_pzIcyNSvWlp4BPTsCgiLIqYx3KPoHbhx1Bxsyp1dD2tHtFK2GWAw_8qxIyPYR3C3kIozSCJGLCPp7sOaqxH6yUMh7QM_65BrCfVoE/s320/100_3936.JPG" border="0" /></a>sun so it turned into a Easy Bake Oven within 15 minutes. I decided to hike up a little closer to the mountain. The wild flowers with the icy glacier made a great <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgR0W_qwmRN1pof5eUbkwW57MEKFdbUCg90I__QLEpqRJecHJ-zNWIPvuL4upzNWWQZIZDQVKnCqI-d0xavseh5Xm4oBHzVdpK5LDf7eLLHNV2BTeokJu4pcqY2wDYmODq0Iv2sISIAU7w/s1600/100_3912.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506811590110655858" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgR0W_qwmRN1pof5eUbkwW57MEKFdbUCg90I__QLEpqRJecHJ-zNWIPvuL4upzNWWQZIZDQVKnCqI-d0xavseh5Xm4oBHzVdpK5LDf7eLLHNV2BTeokJu4pcqY2wDYmODq0Iv2sISIAU7w/s320/100_3912.JPG" border="0" /></a>contrast.<br /><br />During the night the wind kept blowing hard and then it would stop. As I headed back towards my truck, the wind was blowing constantly, with clouds of sandy pumice blasting my face. I felt sorry for the construction workers doing maintenance work on the high scaffolding around the lodge. The wind was blowing the fellas all around. I talked to them and they had a dead line to get their work done before the snow flies.<br /><br />If any one asks, if you drive 75 mph from Mount Hood to Denver, how long does it take, it’s 24 hours. The whole trip was a lot of fun and we got to see a lot of country from the seat of my truck and the seat of my bike.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQibc_sXNbbxODZM_W7OkZ8LWJ2ogPFeX18Av3Sf9xuxlh31EUYEqlXzKbmBJk4CQqH5qe92dj0Q__QTFv9qva336mwV4Y7rR1uQeSpvS6ghhZf9-XRxetR30l1XZsrexg4p0VqSBLNag/s1600/100_3953.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506803851830797890" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQibc_sXNbbxODZM_W7OkZ8LWJ2ogPFeX18Av3Sf9xuxlh31EUYEqlXzKbmBJk4CQqH5qe92dj0Q__QTFv9qva336mwV4Y7rR1uQeSpvS6ghhZf9-XRxetR30l1XZsrexg4p0VqSBLNag/s320/100_3953.JPG" border="0" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8S3tbEZ0dDVcjqLO6XfA4XjMpV5SPgArO6vmxj3oic_KZc7IcGFxftznUrGJPXOkJCPDq7F6staBs7PSB0ftuHxhh1LNnnivZBba6C656jrnA2Z9cL1wQw5eKsQCCCbFCLPYUQQBcA3Y/s1600/100_3951.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506804209786730914" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8S3tbEZ0dDVcjqLO6XfA4XjMpV5SPgArO6vmxj3oic_KZc7IcGFxftznUrGJPXOkJCPDq7F6staBs7PSB0ftuHxhh1LNnnivZBba6C656jrnA2Z9cL1wQw5eKsQCCCbFCLPYUQQBcA3Y/s320/100_3951.JPG" border="0" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAxYpEdkoyaTXFwr3VMipA_gyd5uzUol7ZK6RDEELjyKC18dN-gxSyThsloac41Uv403rcss9DoAc6wPnP7hxNNb8gesJTtL2Rz8qBTMvuRr3golY7f1MEWojn-TGGnAe1-ypMPH9D0y0/s1600/100_3947.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506804894168220498" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAxYpEdkoyaTXFwr3VMipA_gyd5uzUol7ZK6RDEELjyKC18dN-gxSyThsloac41Uv403rcss9DoAc6wPnP7hxNNb8gesJTtL2Rz8qBTMvuRr3golY7f1MEWojn-TGGnAe1-ypMPH9D0y0/s320/100_3947.JPG" border="0" /></a></div>vince vogelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09409914685847755131noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-113513403868397494.post-87016492511639519152010-07-21T15:37:00.000-07:002014-02-07T14:00:02.856-08:00Sangre de Cristo Colorado Mountains<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipguBeTQxKa5lSCqFrFf_4hGwpxRNDZLjAQqPw1gVrFIjPtauzvbpuOgqlqQ5uvC9EFQCKzASrNZxQnWxVDDTwk6saKUCIOvHKT-t1IS4ozmEaSGVg0WXZzKM8P6vLMdFyBZ1HrUY5sdQ/s1600/100_3598.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5497113713370176002" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipguBeTQxKa5lSCqFrFf_4hGwpxRNDZLjAQqPw1gVrFIjPtauzvbpuOgqlqQ5uvC9EFQCKzASrNZxQnWxVDDTwk6saKUCIOvHKT-t1IS4ozmEaSGVg0WXZzKM8P6vLMdFyBZ1HrUY5sdQ/s320/100_3598.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPf3j6cGp8jI3IKtpRXmfY7n4xvq8uQFVC16IElihlnKx-aqNK4o22_O1a0aJIHq59o5jX_PkxZWCYO5id1GvzdLkN2mSUQeaQ0ATqsPQJ_yjocXZj8actUhTi5hh1T5MGEXZCD1m5JkA/s1600/100_3703.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5496524620166440450" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPf3j6cGp8jI3IKtpRXmfY7n4xvq8uQFVC16IElihlnKx-aqNK4o22_O1a0aJIHq59o5jX_PkxZWCYO5id1GvzdLkN2mSUQeaQ0ATqsPQJ_yjocXZj8actUhTi5hh1T5MGEXZCD1m5JkA/s400/100_3703.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div>Before the summer just becomes a past dream of what it could have been, it’s time to head to the Colorado mountains. My back pack is loaded with the essentials, maybe loaded is not the right word. Sounds too heavy! Fishing in the back country and exploring new territory is my goal for this trip, or all of my adventures, come to think of it! The Sangre de Cristo mountain range located in southern Colorado holds unlimited opportunities for great fishing and exploring.<br /><br />I drove out of Hillside Colorado heading west on CR 198, with my destination of North Brush Creek Lake on my mind. The wash board dirt road, turned into a rutted rocky one. The path was <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwFvvRXSdirN2cbhctJ7B0vtP23XMHdahFN3T5LsfcbQIzyLUDrI9-thwKyasJBQJDsok1KSz8bye_pK79IULt3ViZZw0ANYgamoFC_HQTPRikVXL4BKtuRszNnPEouJbKbYTbM1YuIl8/s1600/100_3549.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5496522786904796578" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwFvvRXSdirN2cbhctJ7B0vtP23XMHdahFN3T5LsfcbQIzyLUDrI9-thwKyasJBQJDsok1KSz8bye_pK79IULt3ViZZw0ANYgamoFC_HQTPRikVXL4BKtuRszNnPEouJbKbYTbM1YuIl8/s320/100_3549.JPG" border="0" /></a>so rough I thought my teeth filings were going to get rattled out of my skull. I have driven this road before and if anything, it has grown worse from wear. I turned up the wrong dirt path and came to a complete stop at a private property sign, protecting an old mining claim. After a little <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjWYGMHqFuMadRGiwxE3fd_VLTy525vKWp_1RjOrpvfeGawuJTebxezE0p-8CmO3R1lFF1-H6K14QnMuoaH-Tb0kotLK_TyF1y_mC0QAKEVKIy5Kz7Dp3QIjyihILDIFOQH3c50ztHXL4/s1600/100_3555.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5497111390761681698" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjWYGMHqFuMadRGiwxE3fd_VLTy525vKWp_1RjOrpvfeGawuJTebxezE0p-8CmO3R1lFF1-H6K14QnMuoaH-Tb0kotLK_TyF1y_mC0QAKEVKIy5Kz7Dp3QIjyihILDIFOQH3c50ztHXL4/s320/100_3555.JPG" border="0" /></a>back tracking I found the right road CR 331. The road continued up for 3 miles with numerous turns and switch backs. By leaving my truck here I saved walking an additional 8 miles from the <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhipCtdXsVh1_CTGvjWgXBj8f8_TRE3I90Bn7zV1IRQ1RrhFeOTH2AX68AEuAuolcBqJZlhFNlX12rM1WqX8YOZAVwq4g7UsX0hpuzRmPvGqvWF96yzRhoutRAT1C_wheLo-yQQeHbBY78/s1600/100_3566.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5496519629864887426" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhipCtdXsVh1_CTGvjWgXBj8f8_TRE3I90Bn7zV1IRQ1RrhFeOTH2AX68AEuAuolcBqJZlhFNlX12rM1WqX8YOZAVwq4g7UsX0hpuzRmPvGqvWF96yzRhoutRAT1C_wheLo-yQQeHbBY78/s320/100_3566.JPG" border="0" /></a>North Brush Trail head. An old mining shack at the old Peerless Mine would be my truck’s companion for the next 5 days. Since it’s a short cut you can expect a few twists and turns. First <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4qx0yDkr3iZ3A1LH9Sr18x2yHO-1Id7EYGVYjQOqn08DvHH10r8BxFjijbTF_i9R6gjy4QB3Hrk1wMgyNEqTKWP67AqlVYOIhgYK2RKXMWgLgQ87HcwSlNBHflMhko8pxA-ZlsE5r0jk/s1600/100_3558.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5496520026921317858" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4qx0yDkr3iZ3A1LH9Sr18x2yHO-1Id7EYGVYjQOqn08DvHH10r8BxFjijbTF_i9R6gjy4QB3Hrk1wMgyNEqTKWP67AqlVYOIhgYK2RKXMWgLgQ87HcwSlNBHflMhko8pxA-ZlsE5r0jk/s320/100_3558.JPG" border="0" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_EHt-XA06JEIM8CkABfzpaDZwUXcwbvRM2zXgZyz7ztmcWxueOylRTaGoGQKNMoCmj7a85MeZdAWdRpcatXN0FAbEpa9hPnKOntlIMVUcN_hEfHVtri4K4rGANhPgFQ055IE8tbESdHE/s1600/100_3570.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5496520331920291122" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_EHt-XA06JEIM8CkABfzpaDZwUXcwbvRM2zXgZyz7ztmcWxueOylRTaGoGQKNMoCmj7a85MeZdAWdRpcatXN0FAbEpa9hPnKOntlIMVUcN_hEfHVtri4K4rGANhPgFQ055IE8tbESdHE/s320/100_3570.JPG" border="0" /></a>off, the trail for 1/8 of a mile is straight up and it’s covered with ankle twisting rocks. Once you reach the ridge and the original trail, it is just a lot of grunting and groaning. Wild flowers of all colors and sizes decorated the trail. Our own Colorado Columbine with its’ showy blue petals was a feast for the eye.<br /><br />Within 3 hours I was reading a sign advising man and beast not to camp near the lake. The North Brush Creek Lake is one of the biggest in the Sangre range. Piles of granite left from the last glacier make fishing and camping tough. After a few minutes of scanning the shore line it looked like I was the only camper. I had met a couple of hikers coming down the trail as I ascended, and they confirmed my observation. They also told me of great fishing using a gold colored lure. I found a picture perfect site for my tent among the wild flowers and fresh water from a running stream. I spent just a few hurried minutes setting up my camp site, because the fish were calling. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjfYD2wPQ99-xD3BSe_5BuzrkKUNPBz8OBEnoNsCb9T3-Yf1wEdtFetHe7Hm-aavkky7CYmNKolUZLZ2ANIzy-fLQauWEO8MgKFA02zm1B7P3JcqWFRRwEN_c8PIK4bWeFUFop0b5jcTo/s1600/100_3580.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5496520608145720242" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjfYD2wPQ99-xD3BSe_5BuzrkKUNPBz8OBEnoNsCb9T3-Yf1wEdtFetHe7Hm-aavkky7CYmNKolUZLZ2ANIzy-fLQauWEO8MgKFA02zm1B7P3JcqWFRRwEN_c8PIK4bWeFUFop0b5jcTo/s320/100_3580.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br />I could have been on a fishing show because the trout were cooperating with my lures. I cast the bait out four times and four times I caught the quarry. Since I knew that cutthroat trout like the <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwABhzLC9gUGOg3dlwV3I_fghuBHd2r4RN9yiArJ2_U37eG8IFoaJteZDoZNCBwN_XVhBbpsdYrd0wrHbBoDNrA2wLPMhp8kaJjOudysKgAc0SLeOOfTS7mh6Aubg1CbMgFITYjgUdKPw/s1600/100_3622.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5496521272043009202" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwABhzLC9gUGOg3dlwV3I_fghuBHd2r4RN9yiArJ2_U37eG8IFoaJteZDoZNCBwN_XVhBbpsdYrd0wrHbBoDNrA2wLPMhp8kaJjOudysKgAc0SLeOOfTS7mh6Aubg1CbMgFITYjgUdKPw/s320/100_3622.JPG" border="0" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8PcjhnA9LeyZQTNkxo-5RuStN_QapU20BAxRv4UGGx0hfetE1MUGO0m8mH7NI8KxpmO9GKyfRRuBrRJQZRrKj5e6vRnJR6Rx89qPs1V4b-LWe2uKuAdq0Z7lpV0hs_ro2_IVESkwtcOE/s1600/100_3583.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5496526076869210146" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8PcjhnA9LeyZQTNkxo-5RuStN_QapU20BAxRv4UGGx0hfetE1MUGO0m8mH7NI8KxpmO9GKyfRRuBrRJQZRrKj5e6vRnJR6Rx89qPs1V4b-LWe2uKuAdq0Z7lpV0hs_ro2_IVESkwtcOE/s400/100_3583.JPG" border="0" /></a>color orange, I was using a orange spoon with black dots. Within a hour three fellow fisherman showed up with their backs bent over from the weight of carrying big packs. Come to find out, these gentlemen always come to this lake on July 12. It’s their own Father’s Day celebration. Each one of them had been brought up to the lake by their fathers and over the years each one had lost their favorite fishing partner to that big lake in the <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1lbZWd_hTmAiDwJFS-bEd4PwYZEP2MP75GRFxu31GVkARb-VORqJITCNMIh7t9RtntEaRdHLeNVnH3JNEDmBf_XK-2w2q7n1CJL4SjgKhzDHQUDe-MeLihRTHVt9tjsOaFOMdikoXmaU/s1600/100_3616.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5497110702301204994" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1lbZWd_hTmAiDwJFS-bEd4PwYZEP2MP75GRFxu31GVkARb-VORqJITCNMIh7t9RtntEaRdHLeNVnH3JNEDmBf_XK-2w2q7n1CJL4SjgKhzDHQUDe-MeLihRTHVt9tjsOaFOMdikoXmaU/s320/100_3616.JPG" border="0" /></a>sky. The cremated ashes of each dad had been brought up and spread. Over the years the three got to know each other from their meetings at the lake and now they make it a yearly event. They were going to camp on the north side of the lake where there is deeper water and level grass to pitch a few tents.<br /><br />After lunch, I worked my way in that direction in hopes of finding the big daddy of all trout. Brush Creek comes into the lake on the west side and it is choked with willows and over run with trout. The water was only a few feet deep but what a ball I had casting a lure and watching the hungry trout try and be the first to hit the lure. I seemed like they were taking numbers to jump on my hook. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFyjWGF68Eo_agvGBL4AXyKa3p7WEgSbGLFK_RorRNV_fbA8gMXwA1nolgF0PwG4WSPN-t-6RtKY7OVDZKjxxXnxrq5bZzyuZNZLGiJiY52xRvF8RlTTb4_WE7NCNfpBXHVAKAYuoUxP0/s1600/100_3591.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5496502557698021346" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFyjWGF68Eo_agvGBL4AXyKa3p7WEgSbGLFK_RorRNV_fbA8gMXwA1nolgF0PwG4WSPN-t-6RtKY7OVDZKjxxXnxrq5bZzyuZNZLGiJiY52xRvF8RlTTb4_WE7NCNfpBXHVAKAYuoUxP0/s320/100_3591.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br />As I worked my way around the jungle of willows, I stumbled onto my new friends camp site. Two of them were setting up their tents but the heavy set hiker was flat on his back in the shade of a pine tree. All three agreed that the best fishing was on this side of the lake and I was going to be more then glad to prove them right. Besides having a great view of the southern mountains, the fishing proved rewarding as well.<br /><br />On the way back to my camp for dinner I came to a small patch of Columbine flowers. Two Hummingbird Moths were working the flower petals in order to get a little nourishment. If you have never seen one of these critter, they look a lot like a humming bird but its’ sucker beak has a downward kink and they don’t make the same humming noise like their bird friend.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMtJ_bkIMuWlOe3T_gJ3uv4nvRXFTgLhlV5mZjuYapRhoKyO1X4tvJeImS5DWt4qRdm5QQVSloCH3owWgLQX-x-nOn2bcpcmyKTt5c5VKT3oavVIDiEZpSxJyLJPl2b0_sErXV9KNlktg/s1600/100_3564.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5496519352456997234" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMtJ_bkIMuWlOe3T_gJ3uv4nvRXFTgLhlV5mZjuYapRhoKyO1X4tvJeImS5DWt4qRdm5QQVSloCH3owWgLQX-x-nOn2bcpcmyKTt5c5VKT3oavVIDiEZpSxJyLJPl2b0_sErXV9KNlktg/s320/100_3564.JPG" border="0" /></a><br />After eating my dinner I decided to hike south towards the upper lake that is known for larger fish. After experiencing a few dead end trails I found my next possible monster fish hangout. This glacier lake was half the size as the lake where I was camped. The surrounding trees in the forest had most of their bark sand blasted off from winter winds coming off the near mountains. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJU9oLTJuQ_cZdKWwNOKodtdgWBV3rg__LGuQiXf4RgMVozrd_RD_S0H74HQgV_D79pxDrzh21eiBu7Hq64D_pRO4unJfkkaosRLNzOyVIhXc2YfEdm62aZaLRe2EwowBbuwqgPUzB9xo/s1600/100_3572.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5496519148619068066" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJU9oLTJuQ_cZdKWwNOKodtdgWBV3rg__LGuQiXf4RgMVozrd_RD_S0H74HQgV_D79pxDrzh21eiBu7Hq64D_pRO4unJfkkaosRLNzOyVIhXc2YfEdm62aZaLRe2EwowBbuwqgPUzB9xo/s320/100_3572.JPG" border="0" /></a>The tree limbs made for some interesting art forms. Within a few minutes I had a very nice trout <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyQiPOEcNGeNzMNrBChDm1kjvzRz_dkJLiKe0MtJLhhgp4nNpgmvH9wlvdwlDmCPCcuJ2UJcoJMBfJ_r4IFHh2jFj9iGpULfSp2Tmpbiy9U6LM3_k6v4d5xyLOl4SwIan2TA58IMexPjk/s1600/100_3608.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5496518855161089298" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyQiPOEcNGeNzMNrBChDm1kjvzRz_dkJLiKe0MtJLhhgp4nNpgmvH9wlvdwlDmCPCcuJ2UJcoJMBfJ_r4IFHh2jFj9iGpULfSp2Tmpbiy9U6LM3_k6v4d5xyLOl4SwIan2TA58IMexPjk/s320/100_3608.JPG" border="0" /></a>on my line. This time the trout was a Cutbo, which is a hybrid between a rainbow and a Cut Throat Trout. They fight a little harder and longer. The fish was very thankful to get back into his world when I released him.<br /><br />The next morning I awoke to clear skies. I had to hike by the same upper lake in order to get to Electric Pass and to continue my journey. The path went thru a pine forest then lead thru an area of willows and then finally above tree line into tundra. Five bull elk were watching me with interest from the mountain side. I was only able to get within a fourth of a mile when they started to mosey ahead of me over the pass. By the time I made it to the top of the pass these animals were long gone. I did spy a lone coyote on his way to a early morning breakfast date.<br /><br />As I crested the pass I could see the San Luis valley below with its’ heat radiating off the high plains desert floor. I followed Major Creek trail for a few miles. There was just one problemo maybe two, there wasn’t any creek and last spring a small flood wiped out part of the trail. Half way down the trail I did find the creek as it seeped out of the ground. Then within a few minutes the water had grown in strength and volume. This wet area also attracted or maybe was the breeding grounds for the most pesky mosquitos on the face of the earth. Clouds of them just followed my juicy legs and arms where ever I walked and or ran! The critters were so big that when I killed them, you could hear their bones break! By late afternoon the mosquitos and I found the end of the trail. I could see the CR 65 as a broken <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDkS4Uc2W7y8E3OYq8OP3K3h1jVun4b-ilumHhkSFdpBl4QSnwkAJkkgWXAOj7lKs6N6XvIdmLg7OjgtSXu5ES1Sn63Wcf0Jp7brh_gNBuUymkjhyTfFneGiO_-p5rtioHOgenzbO3nrU/s1600/100_3683.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5496516799188161330" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDkS4Uc2W7y8E3OYq8OP3K3h1jVun4b-ilumHhkSFdpBl4QSnwkAJkkgWXAOj7lKs6N6XvIdmLg7OjgtSXu5ES1Sn63Wcf0Jp7brh_gNBuUymkjhyTfFneGiO_-p5rtioHOgenzbO3nrU/s320/100_3683.JPG" border="0" /></a>down truck kicked up dust as it sped along its’ way. There was another problem, a ranch with cows and horses blocked the path. A side trail lead north in the opposite direction from where I wanted to be traveling. Since it would be quicker to walk straight west, I just decided to follow the barb wire fence line to the road. After thirty minutes of ducking under pinion pine tree limbs and dodging more than a few prickly pear <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwEXdZ6LRzQ5gja13C6W1XedWzliujtrF3VuZ0QJqAsYvmI82ARZ7SVzsq9RRTxWMxyNRmzrZvQN5CZqmZvS2Bnq09sAaDR8DaV7Zp1LwmGszgAFV5bhzE-GyBtcqlk9kC5HeB_hpcHN4/s1600/100_3647.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5496521602258094690" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwEXdZ6LRzQ5gja13C6W1XedWzliujtrF3VuZ0QJqAsYvmI82ARZ7SVzsq9RRTxWMxyNRmzrZvQN5CZqmZvS2Bnq09sAaDR8DaV7Zp1LwmGszgAFV5bhzE-GyBtcqlk9kC5HeB_hpcHN4/s320/100_3647.JPG" border="0" /></a>cactus I made it to the road.<br /><br />It was the time for a decision, if I headed north it would take me to the Valley View Hot Springs and if I went south it would lead me to Cotton Lake. The hot springs had camping but then I would have to back track a few miles to Cotton lake tomorrow. Two years ago I had walked by the hot springs and found out that it’s an optional clothing hot springs. Last time I visited, two older men and one older woman were standing in front of the club house chatting. They were wearing just a smile. Because of their ages Sir Isaac Newton could have studied the effects of gravity right here instead of under an apple tree! I decided the Cotton Lake made better sense. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3cqVxNS4LQIpDpCnFmbyfa7YpgtomcLW349vOJRS86rztv8xJ2GTN0SdMoaDgP4OtOmmYBE0IN36iYbYD-Hyr5TnhFfvcm_hAo5Yvj5H5kPCR2CQmsUFFaG-lWv-qa7xr67eugRkx07Y/s1600/100_3719.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5496518078749565410" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3cqVxNS4LQIpDpCnFmbyfa7YpgtomcLW349vOJRS86rztv8xJ2GTN0SdMoaDgP4OtOmmYBE0IN36iYbYD-Hyr5TnhFfvcm_hAo5Yvj5H5kPCR2CQmsUFFaG-lWv-qa7xr67eugRkx07Y/s320/100_3719.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br />The Cotton Creek trail head would be a 3 mile hike if I stayed on the roads but why not cut across the BLM land and save a few miles. I definitely saved some time with this short cut but with every step I had to be careful not to be <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-Ir8uXTGxMITatkpRZUwHrd4P6Sdgx7LJ9pjCdQOzf8QXoq_aIvR4Mk40pYKPGjZrXI69YV8b3qmfqF_7BpEAkzFTSfTcCcGxg-rKA1qcyzEDpHiX08hyphenhyphenYgBPCAwNjdSs9ZuQ4bNaAzw/s1600/100_3669.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5496525475771582034" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-Ir8uXTGxMITatkpRZUwHrd4P6Sdgx7LJ9pjCdQOzf8QXoq_aIvR4Mk40pYKPGjZrXI69YV8b3qmfqF_7BpEAkzFTSfTcCcGxg-rKA1qcyzEDpHiX08hyphenhyphenYgBPCAwNjdSs9ZuQ4bNaAzw/s400/100_3669.JPG" border="0" /></a>impaled by cactus yucca and barbed wire fences. By 3:00 pm I was reading the rules and regulations at the Cotton Creek trail head. After looking at the map and realizing Cotton Lake was to far for tonight, I decided to hike until 5:00 pm and then set up camp along the trail. Within a hour the skies opened up for a little liquid sunshine. The rain slowed down the mosquitos just long enough for them to go home, pick up a cousin and get a jacket, than regroup. I had to put on long pants and a long sleeve shirt to save my sanity and my blood from the pests.<br /><br />By 5:00pm the rain stopped and the forest opened up enough for me to set up a level camp site. The Cotton Creek had a welcoming sound as I sat down to eat dinner.<br /><br />The next morning was a little cooler and the bugs stayed away. The trail was a series of switch backs. With evidence of saw dust and cut up fallen trees along the trail, it looked like a trail <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtJwe6BJPbVFKH79C9rY-dVl48yYLywutyKOw5xe2N4M0ofrbia7vsmtW593BUpDb-m509XUOL6Hjts2AHk0a9dQ1ubEnf5OZO878eTCzlwTXWG2t7dNogZvCf-npdMcZoheWA-78DbPk/s1600/100_3695.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5496518476969675154" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtJwe6BJPbVFKH79C9rY-dVl48yYLywutyKOw5xe2N4M0ofrbia7vsmtW593BUpDb-m509XUOL6Hjts2AHk0a9dQ1ubEnf5OZO878eTCzlwTXWG2t7dNogZvCf-npdMcZoheWA-78DbPk/s320/100_3695.JPG" border="0" /></a>maintenance crew must have been doing their job. By 10:00 am I could see Cotton lake and it looked like I was the Lone Ranger with no signs of any tents. I set up camp and couldn’t wait to try my luck at fishing. I tried my luck all afternoon with out any luck. Like the Hank Williams Sr song goes “If it wasn’t for bad luck you wouldn’t have any luck at all!” After lunch I took a short hike towards the northern mountains and noticed dark clouds moving into my little world. I made it back to camp and the shelter of my tent just in time to slide into my sleeping bag and break out a book to read. Rain came down and my shelter seemed to hold out the mean weather. The last thing I remember was my eyes shutting about 2:00 pm and then I woke up and it was 4:00 pm with the sun shining.<br /><br />After dinner, I was going to give Cotton Lake one more chance to produce some fish. I brought along a book to the lake side keeping one eye on the bobber and the other eye on the book. I was sitting along side a small rock outcropping just relaxing, when I noticed a brown furry animal swimming towards my floating bobber. Mr. Beaver swam right over to my float and caught it right under his arm. Luckily for the rodent and for me the bobber slid down the fishing line and got caught on the hook. It protected the beaver from getting stabbed and from me from losing all my fishing gear as the beaver went diving for the safety of the deep water as the bobber came free. The event didn’t seem to affect the beaver and he just swam to the end of the lake and then <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyt8CZ2TjpSKHB9d3GHDrBewBP63YIAExnxyC0erofk3p5jD-C8jmuK4mclXeoCtEsGRDjXKNPiyOGP41SQFWoYNXBbjSwZa2Leoa4udTQRsoRvsFlgvVAyVVAlDaUWPuxRikBW1cjZ0g/s1600/100_3714.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5496517296993089362" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyt8CZ2TjpSKHB9d3GHDrBewBP63YIAExnxyC0erofk3p5jD-C8jmuK4mclXeoCtEsGRDjXKNPiyOGP41SQFWoYNXBbjSwZa2Leoa4udTQRsoRvsFlgvVAyVVAlDaUWPuxRikBW1cjZ0g/s320/100_3714.JPG" border="0" /></a>turned round and swam back.<br /><br />Next morning I awoke to clear skies with my eyes towards the Cotton Lake Pass trail. The trail would lead me into the Rio Alto mountain range and lake area. As I was crossing the well maintained trail I could hear elk bleating back and forth. The mountain side opposite me looked like the Serengeti Plains of Africa with hundred of elk moving back and forth as they planned their escape route. Cows and their calves formed a single file line on the treeless tundra and were high tailing it towards the lower reaches of the valley where the serenity of the dark timber grew. For the next thirty minutes as I walked on the opposite side of the canyon I witnessed the large herd of elk make their way towards the shelter of the trees. At a cross roads where the Cotton Trail and Rio Alto Trail meet the elk and I called a truce and they just disappeared into the pine trees. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib1DPj3rS91VSEoQfC9Zf7gFMUoyRY0CyY8uS_Ih5Z7EjTklbn0d27FO6CmTDgV_fbbb51dKfy4_dcOOcrwB5GjuJZji8dS_ecfhByPYJBNjaNz-1t0RDawezeaWPqZiy0m7arcubKGGo/s1600/100_3740.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5496503213832706322" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib1DPj3rS91VSEoQfC9Zf7gFMUoyRY0CyY8uS_Ih5Z7EjTklbn0d27FO6CmTDgV_fbbb51dKfy4_dcOOcrwB5GjuJZji8dS_ecfhByPYJBNjaNz-1t0RDawezeaWPqZiy0m7arcubKGGo/s320/100_3740.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br />By 10:00 am I arrived at Rio Alto lake with high hopes of big fish or any fish for that matter. I noticed three tents set up above the lake. I had fished and camped on this lake two years ago so I knew a few good spots for my tent. After setting up my camp spot, it was time to test Vince’s wits against the fish’s. Last time I had used live grasshoppers on a small hook to catch my dinner. I set up my hook with a hooper and gave the line a cast out into the deep water. A few kicks from a live grass hopper on top of the water is almost as irresistible to fish as Velveeta Cheese is to a trailer park. I hooked up 16 hoppers and caught 16 fish. I didn’t land all of them mostly because I got so excited with a few big ones that I cowboyed them a little to much and they snapped the line. I saved one trout for lunch and had the critter all wrapped in aluminum foil ready for the fire, but alas I couldn’t get a fire going for the life of me. So I found a cool spot and stored my prize for later.<br /><br />As I walked back to the lake I stopped by the other campers to say hi and to ask them if they wanted any fish. One woman camper looked at me like she had seen Big Foot and maybe after a <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit3tXpH9J5voVcrTHLwvfiF_MIN7uOsOINJT_QgYbAz0NAlcYtm_d9lmSbUNR_FaNrSckdYTGt6AmbqyGfmZEseuiYbExWCao0uMlMDNxlaA5vK6xBZjR3J9N9outexqGrDt_9RYnk7j4/s1600/100_3792.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5496502030540768146" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit3tXpH9J5voVcrTHLwvfiF_MIN7uOsOINJT_QgYbAz0NAlcYtm_d9lmSbUNR_FaNrSckdYTGt6AmbqyGfmZEseuiYbExWCao0uMlMDNxlaA5vK6xBZjR3J9N9outexqGrDt_9RYnk7j4/s320/100_3792.JPG" border="0" /></a>few days of me not showering or shaving her assumption was right. I found my way back to the lake with a eye towards catching more grass hoppers as bait. I noticed all the high dead grass that would make a perfect fire starter, so I pulled and saved a bundle. Peter, one of the campers came down and we talked as I fished. He was from Colorado Springs and the other four members in his group were from Michigan and Iowa. The group was staying at the lake for a week and <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK12maTAQ6pj53RxOBa4Klo9VEvewmk4He_q2k8pGWmk8L1EDKKMhQm59CG2FaQWhbkEunysWztBifjva5By7f-dObDOO1cvbKaBwUaCvQ-v4lQ4Wlrbb7WfRyqncoUdqQDZnxrBMU4KA/s1600/100_3716.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5496501081118250850" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK12maTAQ6pj53RxOBa4Klo9VEvewmk4He_q2k8pGWmk8L1EDKKMhQm59CG2FaQWhbkEunysWztBifjva5By7f-dObDOO1cvbKaBwUaCvQ-v4lQ4Wlrbb7WfRyqncoUdqQDZnxrBMU4KA/s320/100_3716.JPG" border="0" /></a>were really enjoying each others company and the great fishing. I had saved another large trout for the group, when Peter said they had enough fish, so it looked like I would have a fish for dessert!<br /><br />At 5:00 pm I walked back to my camp with dried grass and a fresh fish. The bundle of grass with a pile of sticks on top worked like a charm as fire arose from the fire pit. I had red hot coals with in thirty minutes. The trout wrapped in aluminum foil on top of the hot coals were ready for my stomach in fifteen minutes. After dinner and with a bit of a cleanup I walked down to my neighbors camp and talked with them for a hour. Only Peter had done much camping but all were having a good time trying out their new camping gear.<br /><br />At 6:00 pm I walked back to the lake to try and break a state record for the biggest trout. Lets say the level of the lake didn’t fall much when I brought out my few fish but it’s like gambling you never know. I ventured back to my friends camp and we talked into the night. They also had two cooked trout that I was persuaded to eat, just to help them out! As we talked way into the <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_Q_5kyGfKHCyJ-Byv3CX0sgRRrCwwV1t2qmbjjK8hYQXgn0nT5FmipBStNB0ITGPTquK127DnlTLnjqDOPLmAUaCpg_QPTAoCuipd-oijcbhNMBWvYLUxm8PAHudEySIlb5RcDOUWN6c/s1600/100_3748.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5496499175169502578" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_Q_5kyGfKHCyJ-Byv3CX0sgRRrCwwV1t2qmbjjK8hYQXgn0nT5FmipBStNB0ITGPTquK127DnlTLnjqDOPLmAUaCpg_QPTAoCuipd-oijcbhNMBWvYLUxm8PAHudEySIlb5RcDOUWN6c/s320/100_3748.JPG" border="0" /></a>night we could see a fellow camper with a head lamp walk into the timber and set up camp, better late than never, we thought.<br /><br />The next morning brought me the last leg of my hike but it would be a long day with 35 miles between me and my truck. My inspiration was <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKPyQZFmZDJhu-I2beld3xkablXEUUmThG0wxlztVrxAKfR7p8RqMD24UsoJtB6foSVNoO5tfBPpQNp3FaoKD_TjgZk4r9F_3x2x0v1_ixPzpQOsEnUBr2m7B6upYLRuFR1q1fWjJoiL4/s1600/100_3655.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5496523566297983346" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKPyQZFmZDJhu-I2beld3xkablXEUUmThG0wxlztVrxAKfR7p8RqMD24UsoJtB6foSVNoO5tfBPpQNp3FaoKD_TjgZk4r9F_3x2x0v1_ixPzpQOsEnUBr2m7B6upYLRuFR1q1fWjJoiL4/s320/100_3655.JPG" border="0" /></a>the thought of a shower and a warm bed to curl up in at home. The biggest obstacle ahead of me was Hermit Pass but first I had to walk the few <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY2Z7YCcrt0d4ypZDy2fsGH3v3SCT31XOnVaUJDiTQBubYdxAgzNwH9MjHeDwfITzQIrnKFMfHID6wme-90HFrAMNUXXluaa0BfYVZcziV7jGrSXc-QV-HYvWn0YLGxrMx-yMi99cXyFw/s1600/100_3715.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5496499797823743714" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY2Z7YCcrt0d4ypZDy2fsGH3v3SCT31XOnVaUJDiTQBubYdxAgzNwH9MjHeDwfITzQIrnKFMfHID6wme-90HFrAMNUXXluaa0BfYVZcziV7jGrSXc-QV-HYvWn0YLGxrMx-yMi99cXyFw/s320/100_3715.JPG" border="0" /></a>miles up out of the Rio Alto lake drainage. Two years ago when I tried to walk out of this area the fog, rain and snow made it impossible and I had to turn around and go a different route. Now with dry clear weather I could see what <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7zgsqC9A8YisT7EihBgFOO41bRlzQWDfTPU2vSULJMXTKifYXG4Wio9IBdel1B4F24RP94TYhEEKPwZi1-bKMVpmIUg-OntxIIDhvpqD0k0lsjV1FKn_LzhMxC8YKCBr91600-GOCAsQ/s1600/100_3692.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5496500111263519266" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7zgsqC9A8YisT7EihBgFOO41bRlzQWDfTPU2vSULJMXTKifYXG4Wio9IBdel1B4F24RP94TYhEEKPwZi1-bKMVpmIUg-OntxIIDhvpqD0k0lsjV1FKn_LzhMxC8YKCBr91600-GOCAsQ/s320/100_3692.JPG" border="0" /></a>I should have done 2 years ago. The trail had gone off to the north <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1qOgeBJ8of6YVWxGCsD3o_RefAqkrZooU8f781o27Fx3IzMmMKzn4x8IckkFet26aHipdtcbn2C_wY7zi_6NYrnvKkB98-UitkzJTUIhPLaqEXs9hxlo4uGthi4Ln2Rd7EAeFM6rfp9o/s1600/100_3718.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5496500537015604898" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1qOgeBJ8of6YVWxGCsD3o_RefAqkrZooU8f781o27Fx3IzMmMKzn4x8IckkFet26aHipdtcbn2C_wY7zi_6NYrnvKkB98-UitkzJTUIhPLaqEXs9hxlo4uGthi4Ln2Rd7EAeFM6rfp9o/s320/100_3718.JPG" border="0" /></a>and it was wide and clear. I followed the trail which turned into a mining road and it lead me over the Sangre de Cristo’s and into the Wet Mountain valley.<br /><br />I could hear the sound of a motor powered machine chugging its’ way up the mountain road. A Mennonite couple on an ATV waved as they passed me by. Close to lunch time I walked by a group of younger hikers all sitting in a circle talking. A little later I noticed the same amount of <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikHsT-BkbePRrO1l0LZg8CldjVvUsOvckNTJtLzkz21675fSllshsZ-3U-oXV7sXRgLVWjPeRgHuGt-a8QsXC7wAIKkfii-wJT6X6SX4GaB7rUw9L5DpczT658XN-RwWBaIMX-qbLWrmU/s1600/100_3745.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5496497025737393362" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikHsT-BkbePRrO1l0LZg8CldjVvUsOvckNTJtLzkz21675fSllshsZ-3U-oXV7sXRgLVWjPeRgHuGt-a8QsXC7wAIKkfii-wJT6X6SX4GaB7rUw9L5DpczT658XN-RwWBaIMX-qbLWrmU/s320/100_3745.JPG" border="0" /></a>back packs along the trail. I found out from one of <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6Dtef_thX02BKQQSYU4mMkgB9a6JQkxWFoVMeS-yRl7G4y0RDbLm2xG2-ew7Kbtkruay-x21YlXflXt6ry-AzsQEwJBQ2rLtb7w8iFQI2LsHjg5en2nqv5-foyLywZUesplELeuzMnAE/s1600/100_3753.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5496498823721115874" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6Dtef_thX02BKQQSYU4mMkgB9a6JQkxWFoVMeS-yRl7G4y0RDbLm2xG2-ew7Kbtkruay-x21YlXflXt6ry-AzsQEwJBQ2rLtb7w8iFQI2LsHjg5en2nqv5-foyLywZUesplELeuzMnAE/s320/100_3753.JPG" border="0" /></a>their leaders that they were from Outward Bound in Leadville Colorado. They had walked by the Rainbow Trail sign by mistake and were checking out the map. Their objective tonight would be Megan lake. I told them about a World War ll plane that had crashed by the lake in the 40's.<br />I kept walking with the understanding that if I was anywhere near my truck by 5:00 pm I would walk to the truck and if not near it, I would camp. I met a father and son about 5 miles from the <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDo5kjLPfB-aipCAGiedCMh6N1y-JfGz0LplIuTF9B2rOb7jUKO2H36Oom6LphPO6oTXGJioyJcJ1Uv4vB5tnYNFq5sUeAC5MaiH_EvNcM5uLRHf7Ro1QP6vOYFlmhcwWTYcyLQkv8Ubs/s1600/100_3743.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5496498227369455634" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDo5kjLPfB-aipCAGiedCMh6N1y-JfGz0LplIuTF9B2rOb7jUKO2H36Oom6LphPO6oTXGJioyJcJ1Uv4vB5tnYNFq5sUeAC5MaiH_EvNcM5uLRHf7Ro1QP6vOYFlmhcwWTYcyLQkv8Ubs/s320/100_3743.JPG" border="0" /></a>Lake of the Clouds Trail Head. They had gotten turned around on the trail and had to walk extra miles in the mid day heat. The father was carrying a little extra weight along the waist line, a gun, GPS, and cell phone. I wished them luck and carried on. I was glad to see the dirt road that would lead to my vehicle in 2.5 miles. It was a total climb but what a relief to see the truck.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwq9YT8hf-wKy8jVXbXsQ99M_mgWV-lvre2NJi_Pmpkq9LZURX2nDechm_ALxfy-EluHHfFMCTAXIpvRhMmaeNXbwIls3lm6S_RzPeOfHkvLQMbQaELeeXxPp1q3uK9MolRwr98tx3kfU/s1600/100_3766.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5496495487399541410" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwq9YT8hf-wKy8jVXbXsQ99M_mgWV-lvre2NJi_Pmpkq9LZURX2nDechm_ALxfy-EluHHfFMCTAXIpvRhMmaeNXbwIls3lm6S_RzPeOfHkvLQMbQaELeeXxPp1q3uK9MolRwr98tx3kfU/s320/100_3766.JPG" border="0" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyicKcK74Uiw-S2qUJ-J6A4vvMk-X9mqSZQ4gYVBkvpVKT9OeakCSrEVaF52k2jVEa7RBo9sxhO7uBlRAQi_R8O7jDuN5CoheeD5wTf6YhebuSfGZTdKj1Zx9i8Z5M7AZC54QkhmvMAIk/s1600/100_3746.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5496496411448286386" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyicKcK74Uiw-S2qUJ-J6A4vvMk-X9mqSZQ4gYVBkvpVKT9OeakCSrEVaF52k2jVEa7RBo9sxhO7uBlRAQi_R8O7jDuN5CoheeD5wTf6YhebuSfGZTdKj1Zx9i8Z5M7AZC54QkhmvMAIk/s320/100_3746.JPG" border="0" /></a></div></div>vince vogelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09409914685847755131noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-113513403868397494.post-32456931744309879422010-07-06T15:30:00.000-07:002014-02-07T14:00:02.808-08:00Walk Across Scotland (TGO Challenge) 2009<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ8DMe0hdWcmkbbvkR2rs5yKt3oR5ihoIQb5mZXD2FPM6kFFH2JO7VUTZwo_TCIaLcx56NqwBOlpJNwY_18o6qcS6WE292md7COcteTyOZ28d1heFtrfgvtRYVdHjnf-czCCya9PrmVVo/s1600/100_1265.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491222437446112770" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ8DMe0hdWcmkbbvkR2rs5yKt3oR5ihoIQb5mZXD2FPM6kFFH2JO7VUTZwo_TCIaLcx56NqwBOlpJNwY_18o6qcS6WE292md7COcteTyOZ28d1heFtrfgvtRYVdHjnf-czCCya9PrmVVo/s400/100_1265.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div><br />To make pictures bigger put curser on pic and tap left side of mouse. ________________________________<br />One cold snowy Sunday in early May, I was reviewing some article on the Section Hiker web page when I notice an article with the title of The Great Outdoors Challenge. The piece was about a walking adventure across Scotland from coast to coast. I contacted Roger Smith, the co- founder of TGO and I sent him a few pictures from my last adventures.<br />Roger was able to hook me up with a group of hikers that had planned on walking from Oban to Montrose in Scotland. Jeanette, Bob and Keith would be my partners for thirteen days on a walk across Scotland.<br />I left Denver on May 5th with a $630.00 plane ticket in my pocket and backpack slung over my shoulder. After a nine hour flight I landed in London and than after a short layover I was on my <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdvx4sW7xpZhdbSh64vhhC4HRE_y1exrFZEMHvDIM0S8gn-sWGtBYUuehytuRPezRkL77Zc37Tgo7PRQEfkvd8pHVkbqfmrN0e2uBqTOaVdRC3vj8FREcDKvA8fNMYzdiA18HqN8FzPus/s1600/100_0555.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491221914732312674" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdvx4sW7xpZhdbSh64vhhC4HRE_y1exrFZEMHvDIM0S8gn-sWGtBYUuehytuRPezRkL77Zc37Tgo7PRQEfkvd8pHVkbqfmrN0e2uBqTOaVdRC3vj8FREcDKvA8fNMYzdiA18HqN8FzPus/s320/100_0555.jpg" border="0" /></a>way to Glasgow, Scotland.<br />At the airport I got a bus to the train station were I met Jan, a woman that was also doing the TGO.<br />At the train station I unloaded my suitcase into my backpack and the station had a handy storage for my bag for $6.50. Little did I know it was $6.50 per day and I had some talking to do when I came back after twenty days, not to get charged the full $130.00.<br />Within a few minutes I was on the train to Oban or so I thought. A older hiker type was sitting across the aisle from me and was examining my backpack with great interest. I asked him if he was on the TGO Challenge and if Oban was his starting point. “If your going to Oban you’re on the wrong train car!” he said. I jumped up and looked out the window as the countryside <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZfhTxybXgKJYr3BFdkUdSlrGoGPRXm0_IQSGEP7uCC8Gbqkzk0o00dyXVyVCo1HkJX7I90I-TeYNhVj6tvbo8g1X14AHle2GyvvpF5EED96uukm-tSdlkfwL_jWzQzzrvs212o2Qeiak/s1600/100_0589.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491223025718247026" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZfhTxybXgKJYr3BFdkUdSlrGoGPRXm0_IQSGEP7uCC8Gbqkzk0o00dyXVyVCo1HkJX7I90I-TeYNhVj6tvbo8g1X14AHle2GyvvpF5EED96uukm-tSdlkfwL_jWzQzzrvs212o2Qeiak/s320/100_0589.jpg" border="0" /></a>whizzed by with a blur. Come to find out the train would change cars at different stops, so all I had to do was to walk to the next car.<br />Alex was from Essex England and had done the TGO 10 times in the past. He was working with Roger Smith helping to keep all the walking groups safe and sound. Registration was last October, so I was more than lucky to get in on the walk at the last minute. 360 people would leave the west coast of Scotland at a hundred different points along the coast. Each group had to get their route approved by Roger’s committee. The journey would start for everybody on May 8th and than it would end in Montrose by May 21st. Every few days the groups would check in <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcLoeeE8fFprw2n2vv_SOf1rID96oBltZhP7p1iS6eRD7uznssXcSB5KnfDa6moJnBbtoFhZwGMPJwbBZY7KTpjE4Q9vSzDJRK-Y22kHm8w4A8miJt3utefT7Av0klB3hqdQzZ_EBYvu0/s1600/100_0556.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491221684293127794" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcLoeeE8fFprw2n2vv_SOf1rID96oBltZhP7p1iS6eRD7uznssXcSB5KnfDa6moJnBbtoFhZwGMPJwbBZY7KTpjE4Q9vSzDJRK-Y22kHm8w4A8miJt3utefT7Av0klB3hqdQzZ_EBYvu0/s320/100_0556.jpg" border="0" /></a>with the organizers and inform the leaders of their progress and troubles. The Scottish Outdoor Access Code of 2003 makes it easier to travel cross country. As a hiker we have the right to cross any property and camp on any open land, no questions asked.<br />By 9:00 pm my train pulled into Oban train station and it looked like the pavement was wet with rain. Little did I know how many times I would witness this event in the next couple of weeks. With my pack cover on and my umbrella in hand I headed to my hostel for the next two nights. The walk was along the ocean front and the winds were driving the surf onto the sidewalk. I was playing chicken with the salty sea. After a twenty minute hike I walked into the hostel. It was <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKO6Mol9ZEYe-uAKAixERydrDEUQHlFjK87TZMC1r9P_5X7Fj7gsaLQjBvL-He6E-cLH9EuwPSUV7rCDufU_4nh5pvfmbzgySw3BCTTjqBFpgvqESw4ZjXmVphmOyIftARg4ub6EFHhHE/s1600/100_0560.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491221420120895346" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKO6Mol9ZEYe-uAKAixERydrDEUQHlFjK87TZMC1r9P_5X7Fj7gsaLQjBvL-He6E-cLH9EuwPSUV7rCDufU_4nh5pvfmbzgySw3BCTTjqBFpgvqESw4ZjXmVphmOyIftARg4ub6EFHhHE/s320/100_0560.jpg" border="0" /></a>very clean and friendly. When I mentioned I was from the USA, the smart ass clerk took out his hanky to cover his face from Swine Flu, as a joke.<br />After securing a bunk bed in the eight bed dorm room, I ventured down stairs to have a look at the shared food bin. Some of the guests checking out have extra food that they don’t want to carry, so they dump it in the bin titled “SHARED FOOD.” I was just looking for a small snack, nothing to heavy. Rice and tomato would fill the bill. A girl nursing a brandy at the next table came up with a onion and some seasoning, isn’t life grand.<br />The next morning I woke to a tapping sound on my locked dorm door. A fellow bunk mate had left the dorm room for a pit stop in the community bathroom and had forgotten to carry his <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWvA1UebmXy4RbOIri5pcVCgVyfAfWrETnMeaL0kExWugcxhX_nZjp6s5-IRTntb7CKWkvu-9a4h_1oCWWQRSOXcKHULTBmAxLmBwRpUFKIReD1g2NQ4BLtR3DaNurspuEU-QQZqUPiQo/s1600/100_0563.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491221196083179394" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWvA1UebmXy4RbOIri5pcVCgVyfAfWrETnMeaL0kExWugcxhX_nZjp6s5-IRTntb7CKWkvu-9a4h_1oCWWQRSOXcKHULTBmAxLmBwRpUFKIReD1g2NQ4BLtR3DaNurspuEU-QQZqUPiQo/s320/100_0563.jpg" border="0" /></a>dorm key. I have done the same thing in the past, it leaves you half naked in the hallway. If a bunk mate doesn’t come to the rescue, you have to go to the front desk in your undies! <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbzk3A-1613CU1zRANt1tegQnDWTNuYfIxUcTZ-AySrpGSw4qI9IjivQAN1ahFxR_7GG0xVw8E62DGFTALCmbD6TzwtumM4sNOZZxeAxSxfKaaHtZ-2V8heYxk8T9HrHu3lHaAVdUlC1E/s1600/100_0566.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491220898342071970" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbzk3A-1613CU1zRANt1tegQnDWTNuYfIxUcTZ-AySrpGSw4qI9IjivQAN1ahFxR_7GG0xVw8E62DGFTALCmbD6TzwtumM4sNOZZxeAxSxfKaaHtZ-2V8heYxk8T9HrHu3lHaAVdUlC1E/s320/100_0566.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />I went for a early morning walk with the idea of filling my stomach and to get a feel for the town. I opened the door of the hostel and just then wind driven gusts of rain almost sent me flying. I went back upstairs and got a rain jacket and umbrella. The town looked like a older port town that had seen better times. The buildings were grey and looking a little weathered. I found a local hang out for breakfast. The woman behind the counter would fix you a bacon roll for $1.50 and she was liberal with the bacon. The Scott’s bacon roll is more like our Canadian bacon put between a doughy bun.<br />Back at the dorm I had plans on walking to a castle along the sea to stretch my legs. The wind <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW3mjjdKvKOHv-Pv-JFHd1VXWUADrztcmb128MQ4ZduyLh5uWOmy2IFF-rFLdVA5roDjD45X0KFd8CmXmpsn8fB2etF82bSUoPJs1VfbNHP7YUaU_XDkSpPaea6xqFuLaPQdVqH4Y5cUI/s1600/100_0578.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491220616796107202" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW3mjjdKvKOHv-Pv-JFHd1VXWUADrztcmb128MQ4ZduyLh5uWOmy2IFF-rFLdVA5roDjD45X0KFd8CmXmpsn8fB2etF82bSUoPJs1VfbNHP7YUaU_XDkSpPaea6xqFuLaPQdVqH4Y5cUI/s320/100_0578.jpg" border="0" /></a>and rain pounding on the windows at the hostel changed my mind very quickly. In the dorm room I met a group of Italians and they were going on the TGO. Only one spoke English and the group and I spent the day together walking around the town. They had heard of a product from Avon called “Skin So Soft” and wanted to buy some of the wonder insect repellent. It was supposed to keep midges away. We stopped at every kind of store under the cloudy skies without any luck finding the product. Midges are what we might call “no-see-um’s”, everyone and their sheep dog is paranoid about them. The hikers were talking about the bugs like it was the Black Plague!<br />We decided to visit the Oban Whiskey Distillery. During the tour all of us were interested in <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIzQBm1THkDodkP2nY2JK4fjMay0we4z7Y1IU-ArwywuqAHiYVsR7sh5m01oDVTICsHhW6xncJhf7UyP8OsBk6cLfdMeB9gwZk95BVcMdg8m8j0lKFGy3OyiRENE5w48N567TR-FCgrnU/s1600/100_0584.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491220224932247218" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIzQBm1THkDodkP2nY2JK4fjMay0we4z7Y1IU-ArwywuqAHiYVsR7sh5m01oDVTICsHhW6xncJhf7UyP8OsBk6cLfdMeB9gwZk95BVcMdg8m8j0lKFGy3OyiRENE5w48N567TR-FCgrnU/s320/100_0584.jpg" border="0" /></a>hearing about whiskey making and everyone got to sample the wares. It looked and tasted like lighter fluid.<br />Later in the afternoon my group of walkers had arrived at the hostel. Jeanette was the lady with the maps of our route and a plan for places to stay. Her husband Stan had brought the group over from Aberdeen and was not in the best of health. Bob and Keith seemed up for the challenge.<br />The next morning we all registered in the lobby of the hostel for the official TGO Challenge starting point. There was ten of us that crossed the hostel threshold and were met in the kisser with a wind driven rain. What I always say “every rain storm has a rainbow and every mountain has a top!”<br />Before we got started all of us had to get out boots wet with the ocean surf on this side of the <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicSdfta6yZ_Jhi9l0175PjY2jkJ1HRT77uAOc2xJDfqe7TnbR4zt-3J66AufTD_ej6pJu3dlavHvCO2L5nR43tLRckItsGMllV0ecie9j8uEm7E1SuFKuQ7HNeiqv3KX_ldmI1m5w13Tc/s1600/100_0612.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491219488691846674" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicSdfta6yZ_Jhi9l0175PjY2jkJ1HRT77uAOc2xJDfqe7TnbR4zt-3J66AufTD_ej6pJu3dlavHvCO2L5nR43tLRckItsGMllV0ecie9j8uEm7E1SuFKuQ7HNeiqv3KX_ldmI1m5w13Tc/s320/100_0612.jpg" border="0" /></a>coast. For the next twenty minutes the marching hikers dodged cars and trucks as we worked our way out of town.<br />I was wearing a long sleeve poly tech shirt with a pair of shorts. Every one else and I mean everyone was dressed like we were about to cross <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm3vQPpz7bZkyF5wzUUcTtBs1Gu-I7QBwcKuehXK7eIWsTSOpgptKmGPNHdHiN5-af9CdfZ4xraMD7Ua9LvQkuT0v-AQJbNEUxhVZdGhA5tt_m5MxD2RWiyb4Lv5-OVJ2Sfh6yfCFDGjQ/s1600/100_0596.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491219968142333250" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm3vQPpz7bZkyF5wzUUcTtBs1Gu-I7QBwcKuehXK7eIWsTSOpgptKmGPNHdHiN5-af9CdfZ4xraMD7Ua9LvQkuT0v-AQJbNEUxhVZdGhA5tt_m5MxD2RWiyb4Lv5-OVJ2Sfh6yfCFDGjQ/s320/100_0596.jpg" border="0" /></a>Siberia. Ski pants with a long coats and hats and gloves. After walking up a steep hill the troops were shedding clothes. It looked like a garage sale with garments laying along the narrow road as hikers stuffed sweaty clothes into their packs.<br />By this time we were off the main road and on to a narrow rural roadway. The countryside was rolling hills covered with brown heather and large yellow flowering bushes with thorns called gorse. The farmers plant it as a hedge to keep the sheep in certain pastures. The sheep stayed but the bushes had escaped and formed large yellow island in the fields. The gorse grows wild in New Zealand and everybody hates it because of the thorns.<br />By noon the weather was more wind than rain and I climbed under a stone bridge and was able to get out of the wind. I was in the middle of eating lunch when the group showed up. They didn’t want to stop for lunch. What ever plan they had for walking 12 days without eating wasn’t going <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWwTWCWEDj5tDANFI6gqEHbQbZTdQwNwl8zjOAkYjxcOZqv1s7z3G0Q0wMPGykfePGoNZNEs7AnRwxXITYUXLyWvV-BjyZUJjwzWeIOFbRFyir7FLJJii9W25DX45rECvaJg-yb6DFL3Y/s1600/100_0606.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491218449041150162" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWwTWCWEDj5tDANFI6gqEHbQbZTdQwNwl8zjOAkYjxcOZqv1s7z3G0Q0wMPGykfePGoNZNEs7AnRwxXITYUXLyWvV-BjyZUJjwzWeIOFbRFyir7FLJJii9W25DX45rECvaJg-yb6DFL3Y/s320/100_0606.jpg" border="0" /></a>to work and I told them so.<br />I caught up with a English couple just as we entered the little village of Taynault. The skies were getting darker and more menacing so we walked a little faster. I spied a little hotel off to my left and made a bee line for the front door. I had a ginger beer in my hand when I heard the noise of hail on the roof. I looked outside and saw 2 inches of hail in the front yard. I sat at a window and waited for the group to arrive. They <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwHVIfzWO7TwPIoAj12kKFvEBuI2qMpSbuD-4M3e0YB8wJEX5eJQ484ocGfz2wEWOFg3k6imXYErbyL6dL4zHm40y1ljA2qC_YMdlFfpZoaYu1IifGPrpBjp8Uc88-RGe78a7r4ZS5efQ/s1600/100_0636.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491218886824012946" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwHVIfzWO7TwPIoAj12kKFvEBuI2qMpSbuD-4M3e0YB8wJEX5eJQ484ocGfz2wEWOFg3k6imXYErbyL6dL4zHm40y1ljA2qC_YMdlFfpZoaYu1IifGPrpBjp8Uc88-RGe78a7r4ZS5efQ/s320/100_0636.jpg" border="0" /></a>arrived with bruised heads and egos from the pounding hail.<br />Keith and I were going to share a B&B and off we went to find it. The house was very nice and I was in a warm shower before my pack smacked the floor. The hot water in the shower is electrically controlled so you have to constantly adjust the dial in the shower. You either boil or freeze there isn’t a happy medium.<br />I came out of the shower to find Keith fast asleep on the bed.<br />I wanted to have a better look around the village and now was the perfect time. Earlier when I walked into town I noticed a lovely garden with heaps of flowering plants. I walked back up the road and passed through a steel gate. I knocked on the door of a sweet little old lady. She gave me permission to take photos of all the wonderful flowering Rhododendron’s. The bush is lovely <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPe9ZhyNPL7j9Goq_eMiJao22ThDvd7Wns8lr4LzMU_1nCLhAETf62gvMHIDpsAkn13VCCQMm1vX36ZgFEKZ5UNGOVQYRMYktTsjStGIrJQirbjXGwEKZzc2SzafhM4j645be1EmwBZQI/s1600/100_0639.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491216724769871282" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPe9ZhyNPL7j9Goq_eMiJao22ThDvd7Wns8lr4LzMU_1nCLhAETf62gvMHIDpsAkn13VCCQMm1vX36ZgFEKZ5UNGOVQYRMYktTsjStGIrJQirbjXGwEKZzc2SzafhM4j645be1EmwBZQI/s320/100_0639.jpg" border="0" /></a>but the Scot’s think of it as a pest plant. I noticed an old grinding stone and the remains of a old grist mill. I had to find out more about this mill so I walked back to the house with my head full of questions. Sarah was eager for company and invited me into here small house for hot chocolate and cookies. I noticed two large steel milk containers on her back porch. The kind of containers that dairy men use to ship milk to market in. Since her refrigerator was small and the weather cool, she used these as her cold storage for leafy vegetables. I found out this site was a grist mill for grinding oats. Oats are the only grain that will grow in Scotland with its cold wet climate. The mill pond now holds brown trout that Sarah’s grandson catches and releases under the watchful eye of his granny. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw1czf6BKnM0r2ka_P8RPDeiYP4MrX-SncswC4ZdilPsWsmuHz2KvZNqPs1mCU-77U69bF3TK6jp-fCP7b9MsvEEJ74wRGCjViW6EOWN9DsRWIASYanHBFrwBVlwXzEnVfl3RwacT_f98/s1600/100_0642.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491216213221210818" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw1czf6BKnM0r2ka_P8RPDeiYP4MrX-SncswC4ZdilPsWsmuHz2KvZNqPs1mCU-77U69bF3TK6jp-fCP7b9MsvEEJ74wRGCjViW6EOWN9DsRWIASYanHBFrwBVlwXzEnVfl3RwacT_f98/s320/100_0642.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />I visited the old stone church with its leaning grave stones. Every village has a lonely stone church with ancient grave markers of past church sinners and repenters.<br />When I arrived back at the B&B Keith was wide awake and talking religion with Kathy our charming host. Keith had worked off shore in the oil fields and then had gone on to seminary. The church didn’t seem to be his cup of tea either so he was just hanging loose from any type of work.<br />The village hotel was having a Chinese buffet and we were on it like trailer trash on Velveeta <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM-o3SyMLGGRi0wqK_bT537y7VofHkMr6gfnmCkkcIyooAaaOBzXxlCoSgJ9UhL2F0vkBQnUY4Xqjg2OKDA6ik7SPEdb_Dezs5CglSv1gcJvGtANgcRZ1ar0KqCuOTkuc7Ymb0l0nH5SA/s1600/100_0649.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491215535707611346" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM-o3SyMLGGRi0wqK_bT537y7VofHkMr6gfnmCkkcIyooAaaOBzXxlCoSgJ9UhL2F0vkBQnUY4Xqjg2OKDA6ik7SPEdb_Dezs5CglSv1gcJvGtANgcRZ1ar0KqCuOTkuc7Ymb0l0nH5SA/s320/100_0649.jpg" border="0" /></a>Cheese! I don’t think the hotel made much money that night after I went back five times to the buffet table coupled with two dessert.<br />The next morning I awoke to scattered rain showers, what a surprise. Scotland doesn’t have bad <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzJoT6mWyGPQ6FRzMbVani1DWmhvrP031NLSi9q1nGPiLaq_2QKsrzAgZrBeQNDT2PJD3kOcv1TosZmzQytTXIDpdGAzTaDhyphenhyphensAeYPo3_z8wcll4Ra1D0MsWWk3P0HXeXmxJGBj4VeUZI/s1600/100_0660.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491215021476459202" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzJoT6mWyGPQ6FRzMbVani1DWmhvrP031NLSi9q1nGPiLaq_2QKsrzAgZrBeQNDT2PJD3kOcv1TosZmzQytTXIDpdGAzTaDhyphenhyphensAeYPo3_z8wcll4Ra1D0MsWWk3P0HXeXmxJGBj4VeUZI/s320/100_0660.jpg" border="0" /></a>weather, it’s just that you can’t have enough protection from it. Never be more than three feet from an umbrella!<br />I walked down to Loch Etive for some possible early morning photo shots. The sun was rising above the Loch and with the dark skies and two white swans it made for a nice contrast.<br />I made it back to the B&B in time for a Highland breakfast. Through out my travels in Scotland everyone served the same breakfast. This was a egg, baked beans, gallons of tea, unlimited toast, two sausages, roasted tomatoes and black pudding. (made from dried blood mixed with a mystery) <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr19JCL0HVhRhFx0dbwxMNmy34SLyQFojIfFamR-r6K8D6rETKp6HqkwITuC5kNimPl7qxEnwwD7xdd5994Sq1Y8S3euTlSQd3k_Ok1DjrrhsGDF7KI4rSraraE3BwhMTOqFTqHje0eEE/s1600/100_0672.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491214322921753810" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr19JCL0HVhRhFx0dbwxMNmy34SLyQFojIfFamR-r6K8D6rETKp6HqkwITuC5kNimPl7qxEnwwD7xdd5994Sq1Y8S3euTlSQd3k_Ok1DjrrhsGDF7KI4rSraraE3BwhMTOqFTqHje0eEE/s320/100_0672.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />After breakfast all of the crew met in the main street for the walk to Glen Kinglass. We turned from a paved narrow road into a farmers road and then the heavens opened up with rain. We had to cross some low areas along a river and it was tough going. The trail was covered with six inches of water. A river was roaring as we crossed it via a bridge. We stopped under a picnic pavilion where three fisherman dressed from head to toe in waders and rain slickers but they were still reluctant to get out in the down pour.<br />At lunch time after walking five miles we lucked out with finding a barn with a unlocked door. Bales of hay made comfy seats and picnic tables. It rained off and on all during lunch and it was <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwXA_zD5G5PfWTR5M3lxsfni3y4h4BFapLlsyFKf1b2jc2jPXLiWwYvPBMW-KxxUTGeWKb0Pm6BT6YEisSdYrGyZZrnXRAxtQoyGZ-RmT_zFBxF9sxquwR5RX0Lwy-N4WPUcHhn8AnmWg/s1600/100_0678.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491213833087174162" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwXA_zD5G5PfWTR5M3lxsfni3y4h4BFapLlsyFKf1b2jc2jPXLiWwYvPBMW-KxxUTGeWKb0Pm6BT6YEisSdYrGyZZrnXRAxtQoyGZ-RmT_zFBxF9sxquwR5RX0Lwy-N4WPUcHhn8AnmWg/s320/100_0678.jpg" border="0" /></a>nice to get out of the weather.<br />The path turned and we were now on Glen Kinglass road. After walking few more miles, the plan was to camp in the fields next to the lodge and outbuilding of a hunting reserve. The gale force winds and hail turned that plan upside down.<br />There are lots of private hunting lodges that are located in the glens and lochs. During the hunting season the wealthy lodge owners hire beaters to walk towards them through the heather making the fowl take off and fly toward the fella with the shooting iron. For stag hunting I think it’s the same policy, chase a stag into the direction of the hunters and then “Good night Irene!”<br />As I approached the white lodge and out buildings I noticed an open garage at the end of the lane. I made a beeline for a dry spot to rest my weary bones. I signaled to all the passing walkers of my oasis. Within a hour 12 hikers were all squished into this tiny space. Looking out onto the countryside I noticed a large barn with three smaller buildings and then a large hunting lodge <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyF8sLL4mV0clj1rZGYP3eI3s_EAkfbBGGDePD7xhfQ47zlUvXFg2yhuwKt-r8rM_qxryGRgkTdZgKe8ZvxzU9MBKanuAq1pAFI9H1V1SWBuN4WZhHsPu2Z58TmhuG1hg3rQ-6FUG5WTY/s1600/100_0687.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491213165694054530" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyF8sLL4mV0clj1rZGYP3eI3s_EAkfbBGGDePD7xhfQ47zlUvXFg2yhuwKt-r8rM_qxryGRgkTdZgKe8ZvxzU9MBKanuAq1pAFI9H1V1SWBuN4WZhHsPu2Z58TmhuG1hg3rQ-6FUG5WTY/s320/100_0687.jpg" border="0" /></a>and the owner was not to be seen. I slowly opened the door on the barn and noticed open trailers and a dry dirt floor. This could be a grand place to camp while the skies emptied its guts. The <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg7Td1f2_qJ6mCksUi_SOjv0G4JPML4vRmdqY9fINSKcxwMhvQKpMI8xiEHDgdrXlx4rxJyPGJsXWyzA4FDhV6Qzlxu4dOcIjYeJd_ujILyP8n11kACtmLbg20DStmnmKQbpFM3Vzft10/s1600/100_0733.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491211941799245042" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg7Td1f2_qJ6mCksUi_SOjv0G4JPML4vRmdqY9fINSKcxwMhvQKpMI8xiEHDgdrXlx4rxJyPGJsXWyzA4FDhV6Qzlxu4dOcIjYeJd_ujILyP8n11kACtmLbg20DStmnmKQbpFM3Vzft10/s320/100_0733.jpg" border="0" /></a>Italians and I swept out the two open trailers and then we spread our sleeping bags on the clean surfaces. Georgio, one of the Italian’s was writing in his journal and with a chuckle, I asked if he was writing his last will and testament. The rest of the group picked a place to hangout and stay dry. Jeanette, Keith and Bob found one of the cabins open and in no time had a fire going in a stove to dry out their gear. Darren and Martin tried to find a place to pitch their new tent around the buildings that were sheltered by some trees, but the ground was soaked. They ended up staying in <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhszoLCmhw8IEbWSfMDRkolUcyOsUqQeIf6Cu9z-xAdAqW54riSif79D5AvsvXTgLGUpeaguWvbzhK7l0DG42Ktwtd-awoWGLKM7KMULEjqju3eXgr_0-NIpp_5bPZPweeBQPgpSmfsOQ8/s1600/100_0725.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491212531487428626" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhszoLCmhw8IEbWSfMDRkolUcyOsUqQeIf6Cu9z-xAdAqW54riSif79D5AvsvXTgLGUpeaguWvbzhK7l0DG42Ktwtd-awoWGLKM7KMULEjqju3eXgr_0-NIpp_5bPZPweeBQPgpSmfsOQ8/s320/100_0725.jpg" border="0" /></a>a building where dog food was stored. John and Joe the hikers that were walking the mountain tops showed up looking like drowned rats. They got their butts kicked with winds and hail on top of the Munro’s. A Munro is any mountain over 3000 feet in elevation. They ended up staying in the stables. Whenever the wind made a noise as it blew a piece of loose metal or <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2kMIIL2wql42BMGlovJNUWuR8pHJn-p5IfzTlaFXgIMbm9RjdQQfHoRhmRBscPG2DB3n-30A-bVFE3CFciFHMXcxUZm3DXYPiZS0T_HQBJRo_nlOeUTChyWDky4eyDn6wyHgoqk40OAM/s1600/100_0742002.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491211079633003890" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2kMIIL2wql42BMGlovJNUWuR8pHJn-p5IfzTlaFXgIMbm9RjdQQfHoRhmRBscPG2DB3n-30A-bVFE3CFciFHMXcxUZm3DXYPiZS0T_HQBJRo_nlOeUTChyWDky4eyDn6wyHgoqk40OAM/s320/100_0742002.jpg" border="0" /></a>swayed a tree branch against the building we all thought the owner was coming back to ruin our party. If the surprised owner would have made a appearance, all of us would have looked like cockroaches running for cover after a light is turned on.<br />Next morning was clearer and I took some nice pictures of the glen. Today would be a day of following the glen and reaching a real bed and shower. It was nice for once not to be fighting the weather. After crossing the river a few times, Pedro and I found a cabin where I had lunch. After lunch the rest of the Italians had shown and they walked to a hotel for their lunch. I walked back with the idea of carrying Jeanette’s pack since she seemed to be tired. I didn’t know about the rules that stipulated that everyone has to carry their own pack all the way across Scotland. The <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGoPc2eq27L88WKZgHfidT7laEf57PHkiiUho3vg7qVoyPTb4miwPUDfA6K5BG2TB_OEOFyehCBOnQR59L56CLXwRVx_LlJsHrbYsZJoTfPNHQFfV9X4TQLixlMAv0ccOCEawvLpAXtbg/s1600/100_0763002.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491209660099706178" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGoPc2eq27L88WKZgHfidT7laEf57PHkiiUho3vg7qVoyPTb4miwPUDfA6K5BG2TB_OEOFyehCBOnQR59L56CLXwRVx_LlJsHrbYsZJoTfPNHQFfV9X4TQLixlMAv0ccOCEawvLpAXtbg/s320/100_0763002.jpg" border="0" /></a>Italians were moving off in a different direction so we said our good bye for a few days. My group surrounded a table filled with beers and fries at a small hotel. Now we just had a short walk to the village of the Bridge of Orchy. I made it to the hotel first and founds beds in the bunk house for everyone. For $12.00 we got a shared three bed bunk room and community showers with a drying room. Every hotel and B&B had these drying rooms that smell like a thousand rotten hiking boots. As you might expect the conversation around the bar and dining room centered around the TGO. After a lovely and I mean lovely meal I found free internet in a large meeting room with a fireplace.<br />The next morning I awoke to clear cold skies. We would follow the Western Highland Trail for a hour or so. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhROaf1tBt_OzSE50y33tqfPee1jzg2vPyjwFi7eadCWFQciONXFmwdmrjfWQ6OLmXzNvp3wY_o6rrhK7ApohrQGU7H1nvsjHRSeIkGM7wuP4WgjFq3LQ31My1lsreiCWJhBqCa4E4iSbU/s1600/100_0780002.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491207282646242354" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhROaf1tBt_OzSE50y33tqfPee1jzg2vPyjwFi7eadCWFQciONXFmwdmrjfWQ6OLmXzNvp3wY_o6rrhK7ApohrQGU7H1nvsjHRSeIkGM7wuP4WgjFq3LQ31My1lsreiCWJhBqCa4E4iSbU/s320/100_0780002.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />This trail goes from Glasgow to Fort Williams for 97 miles and thousands of people walk it each year. There are B&B’s along the way and a company will move your gear ahead so you don’t have to break your back.<br />We all stopped at a bridge and this is were we would head towards Loch Lyons and leave the Western Highland trail behind. A couple of fellas from Denmark were hiking the road and stopped to chat. Their backs couldn’t handle the weight of full packs so they just had day packs <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU0bc_7pf4dIKmHvPr80NGFW11pkQ78wY5sYFROXfGaK2zk2FN-DJi_fu5Iei-KtHggqF-cmXb-Hz3iPviDkn3IhwapatV0OD_PpkBa3J6TAzotQiWUDe3i_4mw8L-gR00a4Pkp05xbpI/s1600/100_0821002.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491206564129974274" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU0bc_7pf4dIKmHvPr80NGFW11pkQ78wY5sYFROXfGaK2zk2FN-DJi_fu5Iei-KtHggqF-cmXb-Hz3iPviDkn3IhwapatV0OD_PpkBa3J6TAzotQiWUDe3i_4mw8L-gR00a4Pkp05xbpI/s320/100_0821002.jpg" border="0" /></a>on. The narrow path led us beside a small river with was numerous river crossings and varied problems to be solved. By lunch time I had made it to a sheep station and found John and Joe the mountain walkers there taking a break. Everyone stopped for some food. Then it was time to cross a small mountain pass to get into the Loch Lyon. The loch looked big from up on the mountain. The last river crossing was a little tougher with a high water due to all the rain. I hopped from submerged rock to submerged rock without a drop of water coming over the top of my boots. I yelled for Keith, who had started across to catch my walking poles but he was <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibTxUzOHki66ve06HwYeAJHl6N5v4vtASX__w0onXuJs9Al9wZk0umlRMna-Te2oHCLgmrE6Wjw5dEUH-VpZwJFclf7I32JksoHHsswZexr4iOqT9yMj-FrXHlmxFpiMCN8EAOegQoRDA/s1600/100_0825002.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491205873732894482" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibTxUzOHki66ve06HwYeAJHl6N5v4vtASX__w0onXuJs9Al9wZk0umlRMna-Te2oHCLgmrE6Wjw5dEUH-VpZwJFclf7I32JksoHHsswZexr4iOqT9yMj-FrXHlmxFpiMCN8EAOegQoRDA/s320/100_0825002.jpg" border="0" /></a>already halfway across and lost his balance and fell in. We walked to the end of the loch, well almost to the end, and if we crossed the river one more time we could save a mile. I waited for everyone at an old sheep station. Now we had a long walk to the hydro dam. Sheep and their lambs dotted the landscape. Keith and I made it to the dam than I walked ahead to a small village that was below the waterway. Numerous small rock houses lined a dead end road. There were no level camp sites here, but I noticed a couple who were unloading their car so I walked up to them and asked about camping. Their vacation home yard looked to be a potential primo campsite Their look of a Big Foot sighting came to mind as I looked into their startled eyes. Then ran to the safety of their car. Up the street an older fella was working in his back yard when I cautiously approached him and asked about camping. “You can camp in the field below, the owner is away.” he said. After a little conversation John and his wife Irene gave us permission to camp I their front yard. I again signaled the passing walkers and within a few hours six tents were set up. John had beers and tea for everyone. Our hosts agreed to keep the front door unlocked so we could use the bathroom during the night. I invited them both down to the next town for lunch the following day. We all sat around and had a nice conversations about this and <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhknK3R3U_ejiAmHDAeDHzgdZlwvq3E_-JGHJwYh_C2rKmiBMMCbkosgOea6zKiL_J98XmuLxSiY_Iob52IhlXsUzbeKAHw81zjGQAA4-Y2OYYiU_82M0uMRvZTA2iyxpJiR4I5aPwttvE/s1600/100_0887002.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491203505911811058" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhknK3R3U_ejiAmHDAeDHzgdZlwvq3E_-JGHJwYh_C2rKmiBMMCbkosgOea6zKiL_J98XmuLxSiY_Iob52IhlXsUzbeKAHw81zjGQAA4-Y2OYYiU_82M0uMRvZTA2iyxpJiR4I5aPwttvE/s320/100_0887002.jpg" border="0" /></a>that. These small house had been built by the Scotland government for the displaced people that lived in the glen before the hydro dam was built. Then after a few year the homes were sold and John had bought his as a vacation home.<br />Next morning was sunny and frosty. I had a great time with my Kodak and the sun. The walk down <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjGA0vy5I9wJb9TEVOZ2lAbNUUgPZiVqcqmVpNg6VBne55yG1LGsPijq6hchl44k1Bc3Mhz2v0sTY5J9qqJky1ohGtrYOvlicWc0wU0tJirWjiIliA1R7tL1k8hwCNP-OqAjpkFq58HCM/s1600/100_0841002.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491204191721834002" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjGA0vy5I9wJb9TEVOZ2lAbNUUgPZiVqcqmVpNg6VBne55yG1LGsPijq6hchl44k1Bc3Mhz2v0sTY5J9qqJky1ohGtrYOvlicWc0wU0tJirWjiIliA1R7tL1k8hwCNP-OqAjpkFq58HCM/s320/100_0841002.jpg" border="0" /></a>to the small village with a tea room was nice. After I <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUmH38qjDuG_DqdGuUgadRFg402EnaZKCY4VZ_zo-s_ownn_N6KT06eg-dtmAeXU6aoAcrrptS1o6R9xGBLJYdW-dB1NazrjHvUOjIAaxW_VS_pUGOU_Gx-9rxRWTKEX04ZXj6jOYoGJ4/s1600/100_0835002.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491205180693484242" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUmH38qjDuG_DqdGuUgadRFg402EnaZKCY4VZ_zo-s_ownn_N6KT06eg-dtmAeXU6aoAcrrptS1o6R9xGBLJYdW-dB1NazrjHvUOjIAaxW_VS_pUGOU_Gx-9rxRWTKEX04ZXj6jOYoGJ4/s320/100_0835002.jpg" border="0" /></a>telephoned John, he and his wife were there within a hour. We had a nice lunch and I lassoed him into driving me around to check out possible campsites for the night. First we drove to a Boy Scout camp. It was very nice with acres of green grass but not a soul around. Then a local gallery owner told me about a picnic site a few miles down the road. There was a sign that stating “NO CAMPING” but the gallery man said we <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcWiwRQQ24s3Dbz1DbqaqT481EVD86y9eAxGf6WYiCLFaJZImqj-6z8PoVGQHSSsK-vv-TFRRkk5ZvcBjF4H9uvZsZAzDYexbO3oOMIrT-qcC0cd_S6VLsk6ZE0bcHTajCZyDZGiHd58A/s1600/100_0938002.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491202436651685554" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcWiwRQQ24s3Dbz1DbqaqT481EVD86y9eAxGf6WYiCLFaJZImqj-6z8PoVGQHSSsK-vv-TFRRkk5ZvcBjF4H9uvZsZAzDYexbO3oOMIrT-qcC0cd_S6VLsk6ZE0bcHTajCZyDZGiHd58A/s320/100_0938002.jpg" border="0" /></a>could camp there anyway.<br />It was a perfect spot with level camping sights and a potty with flush toilets. A church with numerous grave stones was across the creek from the our camp spot. Mik and Gayle had set up their tent within a short distance of our group. Mik and Gayle had done a big walk last year starting from the farthest point in north Scotland to the farthest point south in England. Gayle had cut her hair short making it easier to take care of and she was as skinny as a rail, or as one said skinner than a hoe handle.<br />A black Mercedes rolled into our temporary village. The owner of the car also happened to be <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPD9jsaahAz2bWXqSAo0mFZ39gZ5pnIyAOk5JleHOHioAVZpGXWmwOluSigQkgQDOXbwheHcuI-BQeAKPR0IfvTVRhZb0VptrDGzxQnn99U5raWjiPd793jn92u_vcG_8NxaH0GK7OkZM/s1600/100_0953002.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491201103165078834" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPD9jsaahAz2bWXqSAo0mFZ39gZ5pnIyAOk5JleHOHioAVZpGXWmwOluSigQkgQDOXbwheHcuI-BQeAKPR0IfvTVRhZb0VptrDGzxQnn99U5raWjiPd793jn92u_vcG_8NxaH0GK7OkZM/s320/100_0953002.jpg" border="0" /></a>the owner of the land, that he had acquired when he married the landlord. He had the discussed looked like some one was trespass on his land ,and we fit the bill! Mik explained about our walk across Scotland with people from all over the world and he seemed to settle down and wished us all the best.<br />At bed time a cold wind had picked up and with a book in hand I walked to the church. I found the switches for the lights and a heater and settled down on a pew to do some reading. I woke up at about midnight and walked back to my tent.<br />The next morning I took a walk down the narrow road on the lookout for the perfect morning <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS4DafaXu8ekefAWT2eUsRihH6-eBpoghLW5NiUpRdUSx7IW-K7OO2_TA2PFPDvumRJ-2miXcZOzjitWVWVV0pB5pPtbJ6QXgggosZC5D_9TiDUYeYKFDlIz1ME6p9hfZnA4RCGB8-rHY/s1600/100_0962002.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491199949064423218" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS4DafaXu8ekefAWT2eUsRihH6-eBpoghLW5NiUpRdUSx7IW-K7OO2_TA2PFPDvumRJ-2miXcZOzjitWVWVV0pB5pPtbJ6QXgggosZC5D_9TiDUYeYKFDlIz1ME6p9hfZnA4RCGB8-rHY/s320/100_0962002.jpg" border="0" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxxB7CII7FHoOuB79aqdg7908UNmC1XpObu_aL0UBSZKq059NvsB6tM0ua0u6ANwQArNUaY_JPfSHkPZH1iQJH7nF1Fmo5NHYuRh8rakx3s533vK-N8RrotzDF_PCW5yajQWlPWMu4l7A/s1600/100_0947002.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491201796588652850" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxxB7CII7FHoOuB79aqdg7908UNmC1XpObu_aL0UBSZKq059NvsB6tM0ua0u6ANwQArNUaY_JPfSHkPZH1iQJH7nF1Fmo5NHYuRh8rakx3s533vK-N8RrotzDF_PCW5yajQWlPWMu4l7A/s320/100_0947002.jpg" border="0" /></a>picture. A sheep that had jumped the fence was on the road and ran ahead of me. Than the scared sheep made a hard right turn and ended up trapped in a cattle guard. I was able to grab her horns and wool on its hump and lift her out of trap. As soon as the hooves touched the ground she was off to the races! I imagine she might still be running.<br />I walked back to camp to find my group eating their breakfast. I added hard boiled eggs to the breakfast that the tea room had cooked for me yesterday.<br />The trail led us up over the mountains and into the next drainage. The Loch an Daimh could be <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgylehDbCMHftrgtKupLDhlRdd7QHivLwIqEqjmQY2bKDTN3CBiL5muSR0Mb5xsP96BV9qqn-kLN1gxK38p5cts9Or0OzF9j7M5NcSQAXnJ27_nxAxDyjc2DipWfu4p9mJdt6UG-80kAuM/s1600/100_0986002.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491198984014773538" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgylehDbCMHftrgtKupLDhlRdd7QHivLwIqEqjmQY2bKDTN3CBiL5muSR0Mb5xsP96BV9qqn-kLN1gxK38p5cts9Or0OzF9j7M5NcSQAXnJ27_nxAxDyjc2DipWfu4p9mJdt6UG-80kAuM/s320/100_0986002.jpg" border="0" /></a>seen in th distance from our path. We would follow it into the town of Bridge of Balgie. Keith and I stopped for lunch at a very nice wooded reserve. We shared our table with sisters from England who where on a holiday.. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIuatFq7SAB651OXduefPFQylTtbE341UOMGJ1DCM99fiqt3nh87VHwxdo8ByGVTPRtkkSbinVVd-Wg1DhcQxejBgbCvAgS00b281_NovLjo1V04Dg6ntVIoq21MSVjVoLqG8r0rcc0sA/s1600/100_0970002.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491199547786515266" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIuatFq7SAB651OXduefPFQylTtbE341UOMGJ1DCM99fiqt3nh87VHwxdo8ByGVTPRtkkSbinVVd-Wg1DhcQxejBgbCvAgS00b281_NovLjo1V04Dg6ntVIoq21MSVjVoLqG8r0rcc0sA/s320/100_0970002.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />At the end of the loch we met up with two couples, who owned antique Morgan cars and were out for a weekend outing. One couple had skied Colorado and we had much to talk about.<br />By this time Jeanette and Bob had caught up and we walked into town for some food and resupply. The village was very nice with old stone houses and churches.<br />After eating our second lunch we would walk to McGreager’s Hideout Cave to camp out. McGreager was a cattle rustler and highway man in the 1700's and generally was a pain in the butt to the authorities. The king got so pissed off, he forbid the name McGreager to be used for <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYq4Qnyo4uDtSUROuT8IKhNGBZ_PW3IVHEWcHSenTLYBPO3KpN5FANhLDBcILVRDd3Urz3GAJBWpVDBlDGuzVvEJYCyFVIAud138YCIJlsprq_wWx85GADbBwEXYpN64JgI5dRC-I60Bk/s1600/100_1026002.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491197449103127490" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYq4Qnyo4uDtSUROuT8IKhNGBZ_PW3IVHEWcHSenTLYBPO3KpN5FANhLDBcILVRDd3Urz3GAJBWpVDBlDGuzVvEJYCyFVIAud138YCIJlsprq_wWx85GADbBwEXYpN64JgI5dRC-I60Bk/s320/100_1026002.jpg" border="0" /></a>any clan.<br />Keith and I were ahead when we missed the turnoff and kept walking up a very steep hill for two extra miles. Then we found a old stone <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgqg0PBwFi8TK0-jyiKEsvazI5gM-R5rZ-LzstqJtKBGvmiddr9OaBCWX7vgiK2VwtKo7djutRXuwoH0Aoa12PFraswNTK0WUUy_XiDhmlJuGU-NJRJ0SU9Kq9eohLJkwv5nXqVhXeFTA/s1600/100_1044002.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491196821906391666" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgqg0PBwFi8TK0-jyiKEsvazI5gM-R5rZ-LzstqJtKBGvmiddr9OaBCWX7vgiK2VwtKo7djutRXuwoH0Aoa12PFraswNTK0WUUy_XiDhmlJuGU-NJRJ0SU9Kq9eohLJkwv5nXqVhXeFTA/s320/100_1044002.jpg" border="0" /></a>quarry that made for a perfect camping spot. Great location but wrong side of the mountain. Jeanette and Bob had found the turnoff and were camped at the cave entrance. Tomorrow we would catch up with our group. Our site had a bird’s eye of the loch and the town below as the sun set on another day.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFvODfTvC55g2mWxD5WqR-oKziBMeC1Hz7vdT3KZWBIpYMlQgVDTu8Qx_cV_RT3sb5SqMSKKW1lvNTpGXqfGAMz_aOAleTlGlc3Sg5B54kJesDZucGGfAdBI7Sj04W_h8M9us6bOsyBYo/s1600/100_1025002.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491198079205685842" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFvODfTvC55g2mWxD5WqR-oKziBMeC1Hz7vdT3KZWBIpYMlQgVDTu8Qx_cV_RT3sb5SqMSKKW1lvNTpGXqfGAMz_aOAleTlGlc3Sg5B54kJesDZucGGfAdBI7Sj04W_h8M9us6bOsyBYo/s320/100_1025002.jpg" border="0" /></a>The next morning as the sun filtered into my tent, it gave the hint of no rain on the horizon. Keith and I would follow the creek down to where Jeanette and Bob were camped. Last night I met a wandering artist who told me about some nice waterfalls along the creek, and he was right. There wasn’t any trail, we just followed the creek for a few hours until we came to the trail that Keith and I had missed yesterday. Jeanette and Bob were out of their tents and eating their breakfast in the sun.<br />Today’s plan was to follow an established trail for a short distance and then we would have to heather bash cross country. The heather is very tough and it hides a lot of watery holes and muddy bogs. After a few hours of being Jungle Jim we made it to a deer fence. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6ZqY16U33q_HJfLvO85AY4dkUZ88GMeu4jE0W_dolk6wrD5N9gv63CIxnpqPNixWioFRH02Og4Rt9n3dq1OIpEXfKvTgOYI2LLwy9jJ0rpU6z6eBRrpEvPJzNCVZtQeItO1T-bM857CI/s1600/100_1041002.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491196257686227746" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6ZqY16U33q_HJfLvO85AY4dkUZ88GMeu4jE0W_dolk6wrD5N9gv63CIxnpqPNixWioFRH02Og4Rt9n3dq1OIpEXfKvTgOYI2LLwy9jJ0rpU6z6eBRrpEvPJzNCVZtQeItO1T-bM857CI/s320/100_1041002.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />A deer fence is a structure that is eight feet tall and is engineered to keep deer out of the regrowth of the forest. It can be a little tricky to cross, especially with back packs on.<br />After pulling the wire apart enough to squeeze thru we came to a canal chuck full of water for the hydro dam. Luckily there was a bridge and we were on the right side within minutes.<br />After walking a few more hours we came to an ancient bridge that brought us into the town of Tummel Bridge. It’s a stretch of the imagination to call this a town, for it was a group of holiday houses. There was also a time share community that had a place for guest to buy meals. Even though we had already eaten breakfast, another breakfast for $3.50 was hard to pass up. The down side was the kiddie carnival type music continually blaring in the background.<br />After three hours of pavement walking I made it to a small hotel with a pub. A couple had just bought it and were excited about any kind of business prospects. I had three ginger ales and three ginger beers as I sat at a table over looking Loch Tummel. After a hour, the rest of the group showed up and they were tired and beaten down. They all got filled up with liquid refreshment.<br />A trail headed straight up from the hotel across a farmers field. The path was very faint because <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaVBNqWQtuopvFtJ4bQ8O8TD8afSzC1fmqudTLDJGt9w_-G86F4hSDWB1IJhxpb6XzUDkr9awbv9ZYdqo5Sdos7OQ80U93tkdiGyVKEFa-sAMHZ41Dt0nmx1Wi0tWEWTlUYK8GlqZWarg/s1600/100_1049002.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491194354237703922" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaVBNqWQtuopvFtJ4bQ8O8TD8afSzC1fmqudTLDJGt9w_-G86F4hSDWB1IJhxpb6XzUDkr9awbv9ZYdqo5Sdos7OQ80U93tkdiGyVKEFa-sAMHZ41Dt0nmx1Wi0tWEWTlUYK8GlqZWarg/s320/100_1049002.jpg" border="0" /></a>it was covered with tall grass and sheep droppings. We walked beside and in-between farmers buildings. Than after passing through a small gate we entered a wooded area. The woods had a few blow downs and we managed to walk around them. Most Scott’s don’t like wooded areas as they are used to wide open heather spaces, without downed trees blocking their path. I had met a local hiker in town and he had given us the low down on which fork to take on the path and the bogs to avoid.<br />Keith and I came to the first fork and we went to the right and at the next fork we went left. We had a fifty-fifty chance of doing it correctly and we missed it. The farther we walked the farther <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1-XchUK-qzv0i0NPy7ByDq4efuXJktOemkUbDzBSh4UgOq0O9iP8aZp2dJcxH3B6zyxwLUj3yICrmgcn4ffodBspKtJmaNO-9TVBv63fzPmXl0PAIJNZCht7CNjuSZvEtzMLg0X0M6kM/s1600/100_1056002.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491193256969292418" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1-XchUK-qzv0i0NPy7ByDq4efuXJktOemkUbDzBSh4UgOq0O9iP8aZp2dJcxH3B6zyxwLUj3yICrmgcn4ffodBspKtJmaNO-9TVBv63fzPmXl0PAIJNZCht7CNjuSZvEtzMLg0X0M6kM/s320/100_1056002.jpg" border="0" /></a>we went in the wrong direction, but we were sure making good time. As we came over the crest of the hill we could see our destination of the white outline of Blair Castle in the distance. It just happened to be in the wrong direction for where we were headed. We had to do some more heather bashing for a hour until we reached the right trail. Then we followed the trail down to the valley. We ended up on the wrong side of the four lane highway and had to walk the berm for thirty minutes as cars and truck buzzed by. Welcome back to the real world! A small wooded suspension bridge crossed River Garry and it would bring us into the town of Blair Atholl.<br />As we strolled into town, an older couple was sitting on their side porch and they were chuck full of information about the town. The hotel charged $25.00 which included breakfast. Keith and I would share a room and I reserved a room for Jeanette and Bob.<br />The town was perfect with old stone buildings and a huge castle. I was able to explore the town after my shower and bought some supplies as well.<br />Later I found the whole gang in the bar and it was a regular reunion. Hikers that we had met on the trail were all around a large table. Jackie and Michael, Jeanette’s friends had taken the train into town and they were going to walk with us for a few days. Michael had a cute black and white <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie1Ldf1BdueNqgsNKvytv6h-zAeejNvU1evjZcSRCKq3x-jgZqJmw-Q9c_xZeqKxxOYC7GxsCQee_w-GonhLE77e7L6-MqBAKsqTamQycUBmwwu6vcwvXSxZ4MoFZBwD8VyjUlnbfBS_0/s1600/100_1060002.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491192311699162978" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie1Ldf1BdueNqgsNKvytv6h-zAeejNvU1evjZcSRCKq3x-jgZqJmw-Q9c_xZeqKxxOYC7GxsCQee_w-GonhLE77e7L6-MqBAKsqTamQycUBmwwu6vcwvXSxZ4MoFZBwD8VyjUlnbfBS_0/s320/100_1060002.jpg" border="0" /></a>dog with him. We all had a great deal to talk about and the hours flew by.<br />The next day I woke to cloudy skies with a wee bit of a drizzle. I had my gear all packed and ready to hit the trail or road. I had plans to send some e-mails so I stopped by Jeanette’s room and told her to stop at the camp grounds that had internet at the end of town and pick me up. After twenty minutes of e-mailing I walked outside but no one was in sight. I walked back to the hotel and all the rooms were empty. I walked back and forth several times between camp grounds and hotel. I thought I had entered the twilight zone! I didn’t have a map and didn’t have a clue which direction the group might head. I did remember someone saying something about Glen Tilt. I <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7tEzSGGtvWkuI-D3tKysgFKZzbfUYoaNoLUbyrQ4BlVxXcSEEenJtEcCuHKQayzQCEr0kc5himbjP2gsKwXoqyy1gFZXEJfhBweyRO9W1ckP0OeVzLicfpsWxFt6QjiR_C5mo4uvpZeo/s1600/100_1059002.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491192900682824898" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7tEzSGGtvWkuI-D3tKysgFKZzbfUYoaNoLUbyrQ4BlVxXcSEEenJtEcCuHKQayzQCEr0kc5himbjP2gsKwXoqyy1gFZXEJfhBweyRO9W1ckP0OeVzLicfpsWxFt6QjiR_C5mo4uvpZeo/s320/100_1059002.jpg" border="0" /></a>stopped a few people and every one had a different idea where my group might be. I got directions to Glen Tilt and started to walk. Within fifteen minutes Bob came walking down the road. Jeanette was a little weary and she forgot what I had said and she thought I had walked ahead. Bob came back to save my butt. I met up with Michael and Jackie and the rain. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbGgxaOuMcs1HJcuQVrUFjBrYbgSMftcBw8coj6cw937FKDZcMMiolf6ogw1UKe-0l9H155MgolgEpE6ZJB1KZPTFFIiKvVmo3bMvdUNgJyfYgGXzuEJi7NNGExH6Tns3dtGbzMOtndFc/s1600/100_1074002.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491189938116757698" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbGgxaOuMcs1HJcuQVrUFjBrYbgSMftcBw8coj6cw937FKDZcMMiolf6ogw1UKe-0l9H155MgolgEpE6ZJB1KZPTFFIiKvVmo3bMvdUNgJyfYgGXzuEJi7NNGExH6Tns3dtGbzMOtndFc/s320/100_1074002.jpg" border="0" /></a>Michael didn’t seem to have a proper pack cover on and it would bite him the butt later. The wind started to pick up and my umbrella flew apart in my hands. I had to put on a long jacket with a hood. Keith had walked ahead and was nowhere to be seen. At lunch time our group hid behind an old farm house to get out of the wind and rain. After lunch I stepped up the pace and caught up with Darren. The wind was whipping all of us around like rag dolls. I surprised Darren ahead of me when I grabbed his pack and made a wind noise as I pushed his pack back and forth. After crossing a long suspension bridge I caught up with Keith Alan and Mik.<br />Alan, a lone hiker, is an interesting story. After two days of walking Alan stepped on a stone as he crossed a river and ended up falling face down and kissed a rock. He had cut his face and ear quite badly. He had a cell phone and called a rescue team. The doctor looked at the cuts and took Alan home. The doctor than super glued his ear back on from the middle of the ear up. Since <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFoYOczPXdDH2w4HgX1VwAwLoL_4Dr16oU9JHjDef9YMixQGUtle3T5FCuNDbYIcwiTIzWcTftkLRnWjZaIoXHWGqdQUUogENVkqb-xoG0k3StCCYqDbyjF4IBaqfG2WTVXkjvJpU4N9k/s1600/100_1069002.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491190928257493954" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFoYOczPXdDH2w4HgX1VwAwLoL_4Dr16oU9JHjDef9YMixQGUtle3T5FCuNDbYIcwiTIzWcTftkLRnWjZaIoXHWGqdQUUogENVkqb-xoG0k3StCCYqDbyjF4IBaqfG2WTVXkjvJpU4N9k/s320/100_1069002.jpg" border="0" /></a>Alan had hit his head the doctor wanted him to stay the night for observation. The next day he was ready for the next day’s adventure.<br />It was starting to get real wet and windy as I walked along this narrow path above the river. About dinner time I noticed a ruin of a large house in the distance. I walked over to it and noticed two tents already set up behind a stone wall. This looked like the perfect place to camp for the night. Within thirty minutes Keith Mik and Darren had shown up. I had set rock all around my tent to block the strong wind. I told them, “I bet this is the best part of the day.” After getting out of my wet cloths and climbing into my warm sleeping bag, I didn’t mind listening to the rain make music on my tent.<br />At 8 pm I could hear Bob talking and I knew the rest of the <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYca4wQTatSaS6jxzED4GYfLu2g0DYN1qHWLkfMxoWHud1gRCfwqantwyLvnWLTh-EczDCcNSnX6MJ3YiLkniVJeIabSNgUC_1suTwXgsJ1v2OiQr_mJmEBchFqX-7T-OD1mxRRlU1yKc/s1600/100_1075002.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491190401459580306" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYca4wQTatSaS6jxzED4GYfLu2g0DYN1qHWLkfMxoWHud1gRCfwqantwyLvnWLTh-EczDCcNSnX6MJ3YiLkniVJeIabSNgUC_1suTwXgsJ1v2OiQr_mJmEBchFqX-7T-OD1mxRRlU1yKc/s320/100_1075002.jpg" border="0" /></a>gang had <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggLb953hrA_paSL4lZvF1pDZeUWmKRCGQyfxrpTeF3QGVMG9tiFQnT6dxFXcKPqBU8LCRW2x8036kyokX3BXDfcgVpCeei-HI7tZ8QLugFvEwVkNFzXVJS24Ur41YDdhv0uw7iVpykp2s/s1600/100_1067002.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491191379697459970" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggLb953hrA_paSL4lZvF1pDZeUWmKRCGQyfxrpTeF3QGVMG9tiFQnT6dxFXcKPqBU8LCRW2x8036kyokX3BXDfcgVpCeei-HI7tZ8QLugFvEwVkNFzXVJS24Ur41YDdhv0uw7iVpykp2s/s320/100_1067002.jpg" border="0" /></a>made it to the campsite. The wind that night was hurricane force.<br />The next morning as I headed to the next town the rain had let up. My plan was to get to Braemar and secure a B&B for our group. At the Linn of Dee there was a large group of people standing around some trucks. I thought they were part of TGO but they were part of a Boy Scout outing. They offered warm bacon sandwiches that hit the spot. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ03rghfPuy3mJ7W2JApmYrFT1xhnGx7w74pOgCzRR8KnjEyPdy8mb-X6A5OdOoIic6X8Ik3nGyO0csjNJQXvgshcVqRLqI5JCa7Q-IpTf37l_gaYYCS9c8qPRrDfMJdvg3CB-WoQEWqg/s1600/100_1087002.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491189324553570850" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ03rghfPuy3mJ7W2JApmYrFT1xhnGx7w74pOgCzRR8KnjEyPdy8mb-X6A5OdOoIic6X8Ik3nGyO0csjNJQXvgshcVqRLqI5JCa7Q-IpTf37l_gaYYCS9c8qPRrDfMJdvg3CB-WoQEWqg/s320/100_1087002.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />By 10:00 am I was in town and after walking to the youth hostel and finding that full, I located two B&B for the gang. While eating lunch I noticed the Italians walking down the street and we had a reunion.<br />Jeanette and the group showed up six hours later wet and tired. Come to find out, Michael’s sleeping bag did get wet and he had to lay in the cold tent, next a wet dog, with both of them shaking all night.<br />Everyone ended up at the hotel pub telling their war stories. After a huge fish and chips dinner there was a party sponsored by TGO. Everyone had a good time it but it was impossible to talk over the rock and roll band.<br />Next morning was a short day with a walk to Glen Callater Lodge. Stan, Jeanette’s husband, takes care of the lodge with a fella named Bob. We would stay the night and drink and talk the <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0ZAK5W-uPpxoKU1s-6MUSi62oPsb6aBYEzFbuzJBnpYH-ZoupMlTbRqAqhidlACdNaXBmppSXwb1KOgaHt5YnnHT6jhY2XDt9viDKflmkknGg5v355y43X3GgviBBWzKAPKY1lUS77Q4/s1600/100_1102002.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491187052570536018" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0ZAK5W-uPpxoKU1s-6MUSi62oPsb6aBYEzFbuzJBnpYH-ZoupMlTbRqAqhidlACdNaXBmppSXwb1KOgaHt5YnnHT6jhY2XDt9viDKflmkknGg5v355y43X3GgviBBWzKAPKY1lUS77Q4/s320/100_1102002.jpg" border="0" /></a>night away. The lodge sits above the loch with a fantastic view. It’s a hunting lodge for a wealth family but with Scotland’s public rights law there is a trail going right thru the property. After diner we all sat around a fireplace and most of the hikers asked me questions about and cowboys and Indians. It was the perfect ending to a sunny day.<br />During the night I got up to use the great outdoors when I noticed rain had returned with a vengeance. I couldn’t help but notice rain pounding on the roof as I packed my gear in the morning. After a warm breakfast made by Bob and Stan, the group was ready to battle the elements. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHGepV-Dqd0jRjGmrSP_WFfbZF3BZDhYfdYwjWxzaUvCacjsNvgySwqLdoPkuG6ufNm90GDfkxYLFztDw1JfhRhT6d55Ka8I4VBqn1xI3HuUws1eJh5mRBcQNEk7Du56a44UTTcV97BE4/s1600/100_1103002.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491186312832627954" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHGepV-Dqd0jRjGmrSP_WFfbZF3BZDhYfdYwjWxzaUvCacjsNvgySwqLdoPkuG6ufNm90GDfkxYLFztDw1JfhRhT6d55Ka8I4VBqn1xI3HuUws1eJh5mRBcQNEk7Du56a44UTTcV97BE4/s320/100_1103002.jpg" border="0" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4QqOjhcCxUuGSYDKTOcPTf5f-yOOW4G4TgIiY1mLgKJVM3iP60PIYcAF9yQdsnCatUyil-GpueHi_M9OQzFiKR3hF-5fQVk-Go9Rk3z1gbkjfqaLGFgald1kWnx2saRbkvlNmxyG4fcE/s1600/100_1097002.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491188733573705490" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4QqOjhcCxUuGSYDKTOcPTf5f-yOOW4G4TgIiY1mLgKJVM3iP60PIYcAF9yQdsnCatUyil-GpueHi_M9OQzFiKR3hF-5fQVk-Go9Rk3z1gbkjfqaLGFgald1kWnx2saRbkvlNmxyG4fcE/s320/100_1097002.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />A lone woman hiker had a head start on us by a hour when I caught up with her as we came to the crest of the mountain. A driving rain and sleet had made the landscape a gun barrel grey in color and her face the color of ketchup. I kept pushing ahead just to keep myself warm. The trail was suppose to turn right down into Loch Muick drainage, except there wasn’t a trail just rushing water. I didn’t want to go the wrong way and I didn’t want to wait in the freezing rain for my group. I turned back and found Keith and Mike fighting the driving rain too. We found the <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXPM4Cn7JD5NKcHA53XYmFKAqqsM1fIT5usg9S2R6fIBffj-j0t163jkJlZSsRcf1FrdN2cvMwyc-Of8FKiDvpQUm7DFxCLfObMyBAo_3GMMY5Xz6inSGcUGOzNb-iMj4111QfDuG4pdQ/s1600/100_1131002.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491183693740819314" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXPM4Cn7JD5NKcHA53XYmFKAqqsM1fIT5usg9S2R6fIBffj-j0t163jkJlZSsRcf1FrdN2cvMwyc-Of8FKiDvpQUm7DFxCLfObMyBAo_3GMMY5Xz6inSGcUGOzNb-iMj4111QfDuG4pdQ/s320/100_1131002.jpg" border="0" /></a>trail and it was covered with rushing water. We followed the drainage covered with bogs and large muddy crossings all along the way. I lost my footing and went down and cut my knee in the process. The rain mixed with my blood cover my shin all the way to my sock. We met up with a hiking group of older ladies and the sight of blood drew all kind of comments.<br />I finally reached the loch and waited for Keith. Mike appeared along the trail and said Keith had sunk up to his waist in a bog. We walked to Queen Victoria summer home and found a small stone shelter behind the house. An ancient fireplace provided some heat and as soon as the rain let up we searched for any kind of wood small or large. The room was the darkest, dirtiest hovel on the <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig833NiujozRmdqW34klUT7AiRSlE2ICEPC86u6pOtfMtJGyjr2hO_DMQgP4aBmSmhVA4OwclxGFxOA9dv7hBCXIqqWb4u0DrIqS_6eMHQcUG-MFIerCNAADNH0m7c_zbpx4trCtfjBbQ/s1600/100_1136002.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491181810759162722" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig833NiujozRmdqW34klUT7AiRSlE2ICEPC86u6pOtfMtJGyjr2hO_DMQgP4aBmSmhVA4OwclxGFxOA9dv7hBCXIqqWb4u0DrIqS_6eMHQcUG-MFIerCNAADNH0m7c_zbpx4trCtfjBbQ/s320/100_1136002.jpg" border="0" /></a>face of the earth but after a few hours it felt like home especially after changing into dry clothes and sitting around a roaring fire. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4rBovVW6CRnTOSGoB1txSVCJzaCDnqfMNtf0otsHwZ5xbhQSy8blQPAX1HY8FS73bqB1brq9wQKL6LtcCEbl85pyeS_IxcItQ6xWiaaTfBw9jVq6SCxA07RGd_F1eqt0fjQlL-eeumUY/s1600/100_1133002.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491185115363265922" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4rBovVW6CRnTOSGoB1txSVCJzaCDnqfMNtf0otsHwZ5xbhQSy8blQPAX1HY8FS73bqB1brq9wQKL6LtcCEbl85pyeS_IxcItQ6xWiaaTfBw9jVq6SCxA07RGd_F1eqt0fjQlL-eeumUY/s320/100_1133002.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxZe1mADERmqJiWEBzXl-TqbNgaFUZUM3DWOkcmjENIVClUU_VfaORI5fFQ0bYAYDuAA5v3i1Ohv472qoKVs0WZLknqwqRnpdyBxqxYhbvqnJEXS6AxtPaFG8u18LUl4TpVf7z1HR2nBg/s1600/100_1117002.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491185551836669554" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxZe1mADERmqJiWEBzXl-TqbNgaFUZUM3DWOkcmjENIVClUU_VfaORI5fFQ0bYAYDuAA5v3i1Ohv472qoKVs0WZLknqwqRnpdyBxqxYhbvqnJEXS6AxtPaFG8u18LUl4TpVf7z1HR2nBg/s320/100_1117002.jpg" border="0" /></a>The summer house was and is a favorite of Queen Victoria and Queen Elizabeth. Queen Victoria spent more time in Scotland after 1861 when her husband died and she became close friends with John Brown.<br />A painter was fixing up the kitchen because Queen Elizabeth was coming this week to picnic on the loch. The kitchen and the rest of the house was just as you might find in the 1800's it was very plain.<br />By dinner time twenty hikers had shown up to get out of the rain. The second floor had a wooden floor that worked good for laying out a sleeping pad and your bag. Some of the guys wanted to continue but after getting my clothes dry-“No way Hose!”<br />A couple showed up who owned a sheep farm and they were at the end of their ropes. This was their first and last big hike. The farm woman snored like a freight train during the night and kept <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivDKPrinAcwkZPBulMpGLCeEMc-F6drBA-IzRi1NY7hyBzyqVo5l50wLYCMOdPi0GHjP9pRREktK_FMN1VKeOyt_UVuqs-16VQ1K6sCs2eANrn2r6_Fx4hyyhyphenhyphenQSJVGQX6VhDCzLEdvk4/s1600/100_1137002.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491184346181181234" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivDKPrinAcwkZPBulMpGLCeEMc-F6drBA-IzRi1NY7hyBzyqVo5l50wLYCMOdPi0GHjP9pRREktK_FMN1VKeOyt_UVuqs-16VQ1K6sCs2eANrn2r6_Fx4hyyhyphenhyphenQSJVGQX6VhDCzLEdvk4/s320/100_1137002.jpg" border="0" /></a>waking up Jeanette, saying she was snoring.<br />The next morning the skies looked partly cloudy. Keith and I walked to the end of the loch and stopped at a ranger station. Three hikers had special permission to sleep in the visitors center and one was Jan from Glasgow, who I had met on the bus. Their friend had fallen yesterday and had knocked out her front teeth and blackened her eye. The ranger had taken her into the town for treatment. The doctor let her continue but no camping just B&B’s to keep her out of the dirt.<br />The trail continued up a drainage and then we had to cross a river. Then when we crossed noticed a small shelter on the other side so we crossed back. Two hikers in the shelter said for us to watch for a large pile of rocks, a cairn, on the mountain top and use that as our guide for the path. We could see it in the distance but the closer we got to it the view was blocked by the mountain. We crested the mountain without any rock pile in view and it was raining again. We did find a trail and followed the muddy foot prints. Now that I knew the way I charged ahead and passed the guys that had left late yesterday.<br />A church at Tarfside had open doors to TGO hikers with a dry spot and meals on a first come <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtw8gsGT5KCJOrzAzOaJk_s2dMdDXa5_mOfgfH0VxUtxo2OX84ruhOv8Lb5Ujt9XKvwDMSW5xGGRAjc3irBzCmMYu26KEQKh_Xd5JODAJc2R6F9l_lTVFAfbnhqWachArLHpOmwb6LMAg/s1600/100_1141002.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491180520381760642" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtw8gsGT5KCJOrzAzOaJk_s2dMdDXa5_mOfgfH0VxUtxo2OX84ruhOv8Lb5Ujt9XKvwDMSW5xGGRAjc3irBzCmMYu26KEQKh_Xd5JODAJc2R6F9l_lTVFAfbnhqWachArLHpOmwb6LMAg/s320/100_1141002.jpg" border="0" /></a>first come first serve basis. I met up with a English walker as we fought the driving rain across a farm land road.The church was a welcoming sight and I was able to get a bacon sandwich. The bedrooms were all full but a large room was empty for us to lay out our bags on the floor. I reserved spots and dinner for my group and took a cold shower, the hot water had run out! Then it was time to find the drying room and hang things up. The church lady gave me the key. By 5:45 pm the Italians had shown up and they had to camp down at the town site. At 6:00 pm Jeanette and Bob showed up just in time for dinner.<br />Joe and John, the two skinny mountain climbers were sharing the room with us and we had a nice talk. I found out from Joe, that John’s wife had been killed a few months earlier during a climbing accident. The wife was a climbing instructor and was teaching a girl to climb and both were repelling down a mountain side. The instructors rope <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp1WBnNOWLas6IwYjLMDxGGazSuRqSlXa3qH1SJR6SEGZU58ivL954yATqvpJTCOl7x0-Maj0lsLJGo3N4lBREhk3_x9gLDK5yENMSazTJ0XXoT1193gTkKzlaseue20Rt5-akd1rDeck/s1600/100_1142002.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491182523995626898" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp1WBnNOWLas6IwYjLMDxGGazSuRqSlXa3qH1SJR6SEGZU58ivL954yATqvpJTCOl7x0-Maj0lsLJGo3N4lBREhk3_x9gLDK5yENMSazTJ0XXoT1193gTkKzlaseue20Rt5-akd1rDeck/s320/100_1142002.jpg" border="0" /></a>was shorter than the student and the John’s wife literally came to the end of her rope and fell.<br />That night we all went to small pub for some drinks and talk. The pub was small with low ceiling and staggering heat. I left early and came back to the room in time to meet Ray. He had twisted both his ankles and they were black as black can be, but he was determined to continue, which he did!<br />I awoke to clear day and a ten mile walk to the next town of Edzell to secure B&B for everybody. The walk was quiet with lots of ring neck pheasants along the road. I made it to town and secured the B&B and had lunch. After lunch I walked to the Edzell castle ruin with it’s wonderful gardens. The view of acres of yellow rape seed fields that melted right into town was something to behold. I also had a nice chat with the lady running the gift shop at the castle.<br />Perino one of the Italian walkers had a blister on his foot the size of a silver dollar. He was in a drug store looking for the right bandage when he fainted and took out a shelf or two. The owner of the store closed the shop and had a doctor look at poor Perino. Trying to diet and walking long <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUTlCjWLKpLHa9HiLQbGwozmCCtR6k488VX175yqKrvpCsMg5nWngnfMxI1IQ3tnJkTp4qh0qSb21lxpyRbDxMK_hGYGiFa3T8jJ-WX5GzkaEevCZZjKlJK2tlpGlPV83M99Ndtc2dp94/s1600/100_1183002.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491179986482998594" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUTlCjWLKpLHa9HiLQbGwozmCCtR6k488VX175yqKrvpCsMg5nWngnfMxI1IQ3tnJkTp4qh0qSb21lxpyRbDxMK_hGYGiFa3T8jJ-WX5GzkaEevCZZjKlJK2tlpGlPV83M99Ndtc2dp94/s320/100_1183002.jpg" border="0" /></a>distances never works out.<br />The next morning I woke to clear skies and I had a few hours to explore the great town of Edzell. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpxk1SRWDqu4WxxeHyVaFNn7PHztirYev9sxkMhps-Af8hw6GR8wgdTrP8yXxEff4o1i8r43_drpPhYO6-Y8XxceMJEhau1IqfvqazBsqq5JOyqW-qEdNOOoqX3quBevvxVv4w2mSvLVE/s1600/100_1165002.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491183147041140130" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpxk1SRWDqu4WxxeHyVaFNn7PHztirYev9sxkMhps-Af8hw6GR8wgdTrP8yXxEff4o1i8r43_drpPhYO6-Y8XxceMJEhau1IqfvqazBsqq5JOyqW-qEdNOOoqX3quBevvxVv4w2mSvLVE/s320/100_1165002.jpg" border="0" /></a>The town’s people had wonderful gardens and with a bright morning light it made for nice picture taking. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0zv9_EdS574AFfDogBvWUUXPjnKxJyKokpbVrPoOC3TBLPoaP5qA_o0TcdD1ukFRkzyZV8fqad_l5HXUxVOWQp-YGuzTtNt9wtGKWKeIjC4drSNIOygTLxcQ086sRcMxh3sSPkQsLFpc/s1600/100_1248002.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491177059768279234" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0zv9_EdS574AFfDogBvWUUXPjnKxJyKokpbVrPoOC3TBLPoaP5qA_o0TcdD1ukFRkzyZV8fqad_l5HXUxVOWQp-YGuzTtNt9wtGKWKeIjC4drSNIOygTLxcQ086sRcMxh3sSPkQsLFpc/s320/100_1248002.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />After breakfast the group was ready for our last walk to the sea. The TGO tradition calls for all walkers to get their boots wet in the west coast seas when we start and than again on the east <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSBis1jri_mQm1ntMblbI9rEoADUZg7Wqh5iMSqaXxkNslTe1PB0p5WB3dnnMxUWIHJAz3-d_H6YgM1Ior0-FTSKBLulvbSaY_baz73LaRJRGUO5U6mERVLM-vHfBdAKHSw-ORYyiY1nM/s1600/100_1202002.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491179275707065522" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSBis1jri_mQm1ntMblbI9rEoADUZg7Wqh5iMSqaXxkNslTe1PB0p5WB3dnnMxUWIHJAz3-d_H6YgM1Ior0-FTSKBLulvbSaY_baz73LaRJRGUO5U6mERVLM-vHfBdAKHSw-ORYyiY1nM/s320/100_1202002.jpg" border="0" /></a>coast when we finish. The country side was rolling farm land that was covered with yellow rape seed <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-lVdGUoxEXZFwWyvM6VoYenCSeRfh3RrRvMDT-wiqBWmPkOWuEe2KHjkQJWvq3SrWjOUFiAXXeXLBOPMAOGPspdrgz9biV9paitLwlvjWJe7hW-o81zHvIs0UoUAaopNfM11kl8MtYtg/s1600/100_1246002.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491176410968254242" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-lVdGUoxEXZFwWyvM6VoYenCSeRfh3RrRvMDT-wiqBWmPkOWuEe2KHjkQJWvq3SrWjOUFiAXXeXLBOPMAOGPspdrgz9biV9paitLwlvjWJe7hW-o81zHvIs0UoUAaopNfM11kl8MtYtg/s320/100_1246002.jpg" border="0" /></a>fields.<br />By lunch time Keith and I walked into the ocean and we had made it. There we found a nice tea room to wait for the rest of the group. Everyone showed up within a few hours and there was a lot of yelling and shouting.<br />A bus took Keith and I to Montrose and I got to meet Roger Smith the co founder of this walk and sitting next to Roger was Alex whom I had met on the train the first day.. They gave me a tee shirt and a poster to celebrate the walk.<br />There was a large party planned for this evening with lots of whiskey to pass around. I had other plans, I wanted to continue walking so I took a bus over to Lairig Ghru and hiked there for 30 miles. Then I walked for two days on the Western Highland trail before the constant rain pushed <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy4CDE0p-5AnrPKqdFkOAuysR2zC8xadCa-3ndwCHufebYpKTt5uI1nyaSfrBTMvEe94ATG7Q50oOhbVsFhNPCw8ZJf942usEgN9-HxEuNZmSuqqTZIEwS7eOxEZkzeDEdy3MCxoITsfE/s1600/100_1206002.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491178567922583186" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy4CDE0p-5AnrPKqdFkOAuysR2zC8xadCa-3ndwCHufebYpKTt5uI1nyaSfrBTMvEe94ATG7Q50oOhbVsFhNPCw8ZJf942usEgN9-HxEuNZmSuqqTZIEwS7eOxEZkzeDEdy3MCxoITsfE/s320/100_1206002.jpg" border="0" /></a>me off.<br />I had a wonderful time and met some wonderful people. 360 walkers started and 310 finished.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLVT4aNBp2MFKXwxdiUE17vrsWqXlnVgSISFJzXn7aHItJjHbJyM1ZmLC25KF2RJ61uLMil-aIFcrj9L45vAH-f8clsUTorzxVjvDqbzv0N5OrARFWXCdtCNs0VKSsIRF6ut9y3L7wuvM/s1600/100_1256002.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491175850923352946" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLVT4aNBp2MFKXwxdiUE17vrsWqXlnVgSISFJzXn7aHItJjHbJyM1ZmLC25KF2RJ61uLMil-aIFcrj9L45vAH-f8clsUTorzxVjvDqbzv0N5OrARFWXCdtCNs0VKSsIRF6ut9y3L7wuvM/s320/100_1256002.jpg" border="0" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7ixTih98zVoofCffOyEcOO3Zu3QZYVLVLUN9L6nq13VJOr0uFcX_r5zxOjskE6D5UKzSp120qXs0JFQ6B3vueeXRRp4dMZ-C8YLdJjpVbztii5CytMfnDMBGqKs-EkengJoJZhyphenhyphenR3qyw/s1600/100_1240002.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491178031887727618" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7ixTih98zVoofCffOyEcOO3Zu3QZYVLVLUN9L6nq13VJOr0uFcX_r5zxOjskE6D5UKzSp120qXs0JFQ6B3vueeXRRp4dMZ-C8YLdJjpVbztii5CytMfnDMBGqKs-EkengJoJZhyphenhyphenR3qyw/s320/100_1240002.jpg" border="0" /></a></div>vince vogelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09409914685847755131noreply@blogger.com1