Colorado

“Not even the "Mumford" Blu-Ray could have prepared me for the gobsmacking beauty of Red Rocks.”

As usual, it's taken me a long time to get around to writing about the trip and sorting through photos. As a result, I've forgotten a great many details and will have to rely heavily on my photos to remind me.

We flew on United out of Milwaukee to Denver. I'd never been to Denver, having only turned around at Stapleton Airport (which gives an idea of how long it's been). I remember seeing prairie dogs popping up from their burrows in the green spaces between the runways. Denver airport is pretty far from the city - the land around is struck me as rather desolate. As our plane descended, the lay of the land was revealed: a vast plain bordered to the West by an imposing wall of mountains with the city nestled at its base. Tolkien would have shrieked with delight - it could have been a model for Minas Tirith (sort of).

Craig and Jeff picked us up at the curb, which at Denver is in a cavernous, underground thoroughfare. They were driving some species of rented SUV - a Ford? Jeff had arrived a little earlier that day - again, Craig was extending a work visit. As we drove west out of the airport, Craig and Jeff suggested we stop and have a shufti at Red Rocks which is a park in the foothills just off Route 70 (our road to the ski resort).

Red Rocks is a park which contains a natural, open-air amphitheatre. I'd seen footage of concerts given at the venue, but not even the "Mumford" Blu-Ray could have prepared me for the gobsmacking beauty of Red Rocks. Two massive ridges frame a gentle slope which was developed into a seating area in a depression era WPA and CCC project. I walked around open-mouthed for a while and then started taking pictures. We spent a half hour or so roaming the seating area and gazing up at the twoering walls of rock. There were a number of people engaged in various fitness activities - stair runners, people doing calisthenics. We sat and talked for a while on the benches.

Signs promising some species of museum lured us down to a lower level where there were restrooms, a visitors' center and, indeed, a little museum in which there were displayed an interesting set of photographs taken during the hundred or so years of the site's history as a performing venue plus a gallery of concert posters. Many of the photographs were taken before any of the development at the site had occurred and showed early 20th Century musicians in comtemporary dress performing in front of one of the rocky outcroppings: a woman in flowing skirts singing accompanied by a man playing some sort of portable keyboard instrument, an organ perhaps. I imagined it being suffocatingly hot in all those clothes. The exhibit spoke of performance excursions in which audience members would pay for admission and a bus ride from Denver to the then natural amphitheatre. The concert posters were a hoot - an incredible variety of styles from antique letterpress compositions to psychedelia.

After a half hour or so, we re-ascended to the amphitheatre and then made our way back to the car.

We turned out of the park and made our way back to Route 70 to continue our trip to Winter Park, our ski area destination. I had my own little agenda for the next couple of miles: I was determined to catch at least a glimpse of and, with any luck, photograph Charles Deaton's "Sculptured House" which is perched on Genessee Mountain on the south side of the highway. The house was built in the 1960s and served as a filming location for Woody Allen's sci-fi comedy "Sleeper" from 1973. Originally conceived by the architect as a sculpture, it was repurposed by him into a residence. Strangely, for such a striking and famous structure, it was vacant for decades and fell into disrepair. It has now been restored and completed according to the original plans with the addition of several outbuildings. Happily, I caught sight of it well in advance and was able to take several pictures as we drove past the base of the mountain. It really is an extraordinary building. Viewed from a distance (or in sequences or stills from the film) one can't get a sense of the true shape of the structure. I was astonished when I saw aerial views online - what I took for the house's major axis is, in fact, its minor one. "Sleeper" is one of my all-time favorite films - location shooting at this and other futuristic locations in the Denver area gave it a unique, realistic feel in spite of its outrageously goofy story..

“Jeff and I have yet to exhaust science fiction as a conversation topic.”

I think I went a little slack-jawed at this stage of the proceedings. The country we were driving through was like nothing I'd ever experienced: peaks, valleys, switchbacks, old mining towns nestled between the road and the mountains, cliffs. It was only at the end of our visit to Idaho Springs, a town along Route 70, that I realised the purpose of our visit there was three-fold. The first order of business was to get some lunch. We went into the promising-looking Tommyknocker brew pub. Promises fulfilled - the food was excellent - I had some species of spicy burger (jerk seasoning?) washed down with lashings of the delicious house porter. The meal was a good time to catch up with Craig and Jeff. Craig, like Paul, works with people with disabilities and they always have stories to share about cases and situations they've encountered. Jeff and I have yet to exhaust science fiction as a conversation topic. We've been sharing our progress through the Doctor Who series. On leaving the pub, I took a few pictures along the street just outside. It's a picturesque town with quaint little houses and a red tile-roofed church nestled at the base of the hills which loom above and behind.

Our second errand in Idaho Springs (or was it our third?) was to visit a dispensary. I elected to remain in the car and not go into the nondesript storefront marked with a green cross. I regretted my decision - by all accounts I missed a good deal of local color. Those who did go in came out exuding a distinctly herbal aroma.

Our third and final destination in town was the Maison de Ski where we were kitted out with ski and snowboard equipment. I found myself, as usual, somewhat intimidated by the staff, who were predictably young, brisk, knowledgeable, pierced, and tattooed. Upon reflection, one of them looked decidedly unwell and I wondered if he had been visiting the (aforementioned?) dispensary (or some other source of pharmaceuticals) a little too often.

The back of the SUV now rattling with an untidy pile of skis, boots, poles, and a snowboard, we got back onto Route 70 and made our way west to the mountain road that would lead us to Winter Park.

Seeing the neatly incised vertical walls of snow rising several feet on either side of the road made me realise how harsh an environment this could be. I silently thanked the good Lord that we didn't have to traverse the route during a snowfall. Switchback after switchback took us higher into the mountains, revealing alternately snow-covered peaks, awe-inspiring cliffs, and deep valleys which plunged hundreds of feet just beyond the edge of the road. In my mind arose unbidden the "Dies Irae" theme used during the opening titles of "The Shining" which show a car winding along mountain roads in what's supposed to be the same region (although I think that sequence was shot somewhere else - Oregon perhaps?).

“...and several rounds of a card game called "Exploding Kittens"”

As we approached our destination, the road descended to a plateau and we saw the Winter Park ski area rising into the mountains on our left, first some of the runs and then the resort proper with its attractive, multi-story condos and shops. Our condo, arranged by Paul through AirB&B was a mile or two further along on the left. We found the turnoff and the building without any trouble. While helping to unload our bags and equipment I noticed a pretty grove of planted pine trees on the uphill side of the parking lot. I've always found planted rows of pine trees very attractive - there's something about the way they look random until you find your perspective aligned with the rows. I stole back out and took a few photos a while later.

The condo was very snug. It felt like the family-owned residence that it was. The furniture and furnishings were a pleasing jumble of various styles and family photos could be seen on the walls throughout. For my part, it was much nicer than a sterile hotel room (although they're alright in their way as well). In the far corner of the living room was a gas fireplace surrounded by chairs and a sofa. It didn't take us long to fire that up. An expedition to purchase supplies and dinner was announced - I opted out, choosing to stay behind and read by the fire.

The rest of the evening passed pleasantly in conversation, a meal, and several rounds of a card game called "Exploding Kittens" to which Craig and Jeff had introduced us. We retired, having made plans to get up early so as to beat the morning rush at the ticket windows.

“...and craning our necks to catch a glimpse of the celebrities who were conspicuous in their absence.”

After a leisurely brekkie at the condo we drove over to the resort. The parking arrangements required us to take a rattling shuttle bus from the lot to the rental and ticket buildings. Already long lines at the ticket windows and the logistical challenges of sorting out lockers and putting on equipment set us back another hour but finally we went through the turnstiles and boarded a quad-chair lift which whisked us up onto the mountain.

I'm a fairly crap skier. I'm very cautious and I try my best to stay in control. If memory serves, I only fell once or twice that weekend while actually skiing. I fell several times while trying to shuffle along on the flats near one of the lodges or the lift lines and once I fell while simply standing still in front of a trail map. Anyway, I ski with my feet disgracefully far apart. I really have no desire to improve my skiing - I get from the top to the bottom safely on the blue-square intermediate slopes and I enjoy myself. I don't ski often enough to improve, in any case. Given that all of my companions are far better skiers than I, I occasionally split off with Paul or by myself to allow them to do some faster runs. On the first day, I managed to get lost and it took the better part of an hour to rejoin the party.

Winter Park is a wonderful resort. There's a fun and interesting variety to the trails - some wide and open with astonishing views of the mountains, some narrower and tree-shadowed. The blue square/intermediate slopes were more than challenging enough for me. It was a beautiful day, sunny with a slight breeze. The sky was mostly clear - what few clouds there were seemed to be of the lenticular variety (if "lenticular" is the word I want). They appeared stationery but, I believe, represented a wave of air going over the mountain ridges. I very much enjoyed the rides on the lift chairs - it was exciting to glide smoothly over the tops of the pine trees and taking the occasional, discreet pull on the little bottle of Fireball that Paul had brought with him. Paul quite liked the mountain but felt that the inter-slope stretches weren't terribly snowboard-friendly. On several occasions he appealed to me for a tow across the flats. We made quite a spectacle, I skate-skiing and he holding onto the end of one of my ski poles.

After skiing for a couple of hours, we met up at the base for lunch. The restaurant was a brew-pubby sort of affair with a large deck. We opted for outdoor seating and got outside of our sandwiches and beers while conversing and craning our necks to catch a glimpse of the celebrities who were conspicuous in their absence.

Back to the condo for another quiet, pleasant evening. At the time, I was hoping that the decision to pass a Q, P E at the condo was truly by mutual consent. This was the first time we'd traveled with Craig and Jeff and I hoped we weren't holding them back from some sort of riotous fun. For my part, I was tired from the day's skiing and simply didn't want to move much. We had another couple of rounds of Exploding Kittens and a few beers. Some of our number partook of the substance purchased at the dispensary in Idaho Springs. I demurred.

“It was a good one: face down, legs apart with skis pointing in opposite directions.”

Lessons learned from the previous day caused us to get an earlier start the next morning. This time, Craig dropped the rest of us near the base and drove off to find parking. It was a good deal windier than the previous day. By the time we converged on the mid-slope lodge for lunch, the wind was stronger still and a semi-transparent layer of blown snow was undulating over the ground. The lodge was excitingly rustic, with stone walls, massive woodwork, and an impressive fireplace with a fire roaring in same. I can't remember what kind of beer I ordered but I remember enjoying it immensely. Some species of porter, perhaps. What a pleasure it is to come in off the slopes and out of the wind, peel off hats and gloves, sit in front of a fire with good friends, and toss back a healthy dose of the frothy and life-sustaining. It was with something very like regret that we settled up, put on our woollies, and headed back out into the cold (at least it was for me).

We had planned to ski the bowl at the top of the mountain but by the time we had made our way to the appropriate lift, we found out that it had been closed owing to the wind, which had only increased in the meantime. We contented ourselves with several runs down a relatively unpopulated slope in the Mary Jane section of the mountain. ("Mary Jane?" Really? I'm used to trail names more along the lines of "Elevator to Hell" and "Alley of Azathoth".) The blowing snow and the afternoon shadows made it harder to see irregularities in the surface. I had several close calls on my way down. The rides back up in the lift were more frightening as well, the chairs swinging noticeably in the wind. It was decided after a few runs that we would split up for the last hour or so of the afternoon and meet down at the base for a last drink. Craig stayed on that part of the mountain, Paul went off somewhere else, and Jeff and I set off on a familiar run for the lodge. Thanks to a miscalculation on my part, he and I found ourselves in a spot well to the left of center and we then got separated while skating and poling our way to a slope that would take us the rest of the way down. It was while skiing down the last slope toward the lodge that I lost control and wiped out. It was a good one: face down, legs apart with skis pointing in opposite directions. The steepness of the slope made it fairly easy to get up, though.

I got a table out on the patio again and waited for the rest of the party who came clomping up the stairs one-by-one over the next half hour. We passed a fun hour of apres-ski drinking beer, swapping stories about our final runs of the day, and admiring (or discreetly mocking) the outlandish ski wear sported by many of our fellow patrons. We then moved inside for another round and enjoyed the loud, cheerful atmosphere in the bar.

By the time we made our way back to the lockers the sun was down and the sky above the mountain was a magnificent shade of pink. The lights in the resort had come up and the deep blue of the snow was broken by rectangles of warm, yellow windows and festive strings of fairy lights. I waited on a bench admiring the "alpine village" while the others did some shopping. To get back to where Craig had left the car we took a rather fun little stand-up cable car.

After another quiet evening and night at the condo, we loaded up the car and said farewell to Winter Park. Not needing to be at the airport until the afternoon, we decided to find a place for breakfast in Denver and then walk around the downtown for a while. The breakfast spot we found was terrific - excellent food and an interesting clientele. From there, we drove downtown and parked in a structure just off the 16th Street pedestrian mall. My brother John had recommended the "Tattered Cover" book shop in which we spent a pleasant hour. After that, we walked around the downtown for another hour or so, admiring several attractive public spaces, an old firehouse, and the very impressive train station.

A long wait at airport security was made even longer by a somewhat nerve-wracking delay for Paul to get through. Jeff, Craig, and I had fun hypothesizing about the reason for the delay and the procedures to which he was being submitted. Finally he emerged and we made our way to our gates, thus ending my first visit to Colorado and a very enjoyable mini-break with our friends Craig and Jeff.