Days 13 - 21 - Colorado Family and Friends

RV'ing affords most couples a lot of time together, especially when driving to the next wonderful destination.  I learned something new about my wife on our most recent sojourn.  Our conversation went something like this:

Alexx:  So, tell me about this Uncle Lionel of yours.  I know nothing about him.

Diedre:  Oh, Uncle Lionel led a very sad life.  He died when he broke his neck falling through a trap door.

Alexx:  Was he building a house.

Diedre: No, they were hanging him.

     BA-DUMP-BUMP!

     As you can probably tell, I'm in the middle of my deluxe DVD complete set of "Laurel and Hardy" films.  Thanxx for the Xmas present, Mom.

     It's been about two weeks since I wrote about Ouray, Colorado.  We've spent the intervening time in Colorado in several spots near Denver: Larkspur, Brighton, Nederland, Boulder, and Estes Park.  All amazing places.  And the three couples with whom we spent time are an even more amazing group of people.  Here's a list of special things about the six of them.  See if you can figure out which accomplishment(s) goes with Doug and/or Linda Diederich (Diedre's older brother and his wife); Bruce and Chris Stricklett (Alexx's Arizona softball buddy and his wife); and Doug and Chris Speirn-Smith (Diedre's cousin and his wife).  A year's supply of Spam will go to the blog-reader who submits the most correct answers:

1.  His name is physically on the planet Mars.  He worked on the Martin-Marietta team which put the Viking Lander on the red planet.  All team members' names are etched on the Lander.

2.  She once drove 90 mph in an illegal street race down the main street of Blair, Nebraska, ... and didn't get a ticket.

3.  As a 12-year old, without his father's knowledge, he got into his dad's huge semi-trailer truck and successfully backed it into a customer's loading dock.

4.  Nearing retirement, this couple is making plans to buy a trawler (a boat, but not a fishing boat as I surmised) and make their way up the inter-coastal waterway from Fort Myers, Florida, to New York and then somehow continue through rivers and lakes though Canada before going down the middle of the States and exiting into the Caribbean.  It's our next year's RV trip, but all on water.  Maybe we'll parallel them on land as they make their way on water.   

5.  An inventive cook, she developed an entirely sugar-free (for you diabetics out there like me, wait for it ...) ... s'more.  That's sugar-free chocolate, S.F. graham crackers, AND the holy grail of all S.F. products, the marshmallow.  I think a Nobel Prize may be in the offing.

6.  This man owns a combination car repair garage, used car lot, and baseball/softball batting cage business, all under one roof.

7.  She has 2 mothers.  This lady's sick birth mother knew she wouldn't be around long enough to see her daughter grow to womanhood, so she arranged for her best friend to adopt our girl, thus giving her immediately 2 new sisters and a brother.

8.  As a child, instead of a dog or a cat, this girl had, as a pet, a peacock.

     WOW!  This is a group of people I'd like to party with ... wait, what?  Oh, I did party with them all in the last 12 days.  Silly me.

     OK, so we left beautiful Ouray on May 17.  Now, another one of our RV vows (after the first one that said we would never drive Air Barty One in snow and which lasted all of 6 hours as our first trip in AB1 resulted in us plowing ahead on the highway when a snowstorm whaled on Tombstone, AZ.  While setting up in the dark, cold and snow in the Tombstone RV Park that first night, my first time connecting all the cables and hoses outside, a particularly stubborn electrical cord did not want to unspool; as I tugged, I fell backwards over something, landing most unceremoniously in a combination pile of snow and mud.  As I lay there, stunned, looking up at the black night sky, a severe concussion just inches away from my already fragile brain, I rolled over to find out that what I had tripped over was indeed ... a tombstone.  Now there's scary irony for you.  Turns out the Tombstone RV Park used actual tombstone replicas to mark each camping spot ... whats' that, dear?  Get back to the point?  Oh, well, yes I suppose ...)  Anyway, our other vow was to never drive AB1 more than 300 miles or 5 hours in a day.  I mean, come on, we're senior citizens now.  Where do we have to be in a such a damn hurry? 

     Sooo, we're driving to Larkspur, Colorado, brother Doug and Linda's home.  It's a 300 mile trip.  Only ... there's a little thing called the Rocky Mountains that I hadn't happened to  factor in to my intricate driving calculations.  We hit mountain after mountain, one even over 11,000 feet high..  And our full, 35-foot RV is also dragging behind us our 2,500 pound Honda Fit..  Oh sure, everything's fine on the flat, level plains of Kansas.  But Colorado?  Not so much.  Our average speed on most of the inclines on this most unfortunate day of cartographic miscalculations was about 15 mph.  There were, I'm sure, a few motorists a bit upset with us.

     Stopping for gas, I again was asked by a total stranger one of  the standard RV questions that I get all the time:

      How's your mileage? 

     Gee, I don't know, that's kind of personal, like asking how much money do you make or what's your shoe size.  And this guy was not pleasant about it.  In a manner possessed by many inquisitive, grumpy old guys, he referred to AB1 as "that THING" as in, "How many gallons does it take to fill that THING?"

     I've found that with guys like him, the best thing to do is to give him some innocuous answer and then move on, a method I used with great success during my educational years.  The way he acted is an interesting note about human nature.

     In Larkspur, we attempted our first landing of the massive AB1 in a relative's driveway instead of a more ample campground site.  Doug and Linda have a big driveway, but it was still as tight as three bulldogs in a burlap sack.  It took all 4 of us to bring her in, aided by Diedre's use of those long-nosed red flashlights they use at airport landing strips.

     Doug and Linda are an incredible couple.  Retired about a decade ago from his job as an engineer, Doug turned his stock market hobby into a full-time obsession. This financial genius got so good at it that he took over his and Diedre's late father's trust, one that Merrill-Lynch had nearly driven into the ground, and did so well at generating funds for Diedre's mom that she was able to fund annual family reunions for all 4 kids and their spouses at great locations all over the country.  This included airfare, room, food, and golf for all for 10 years.  And when the 10 years was up, the account had more money in it then when we had started the reunions.  Nice job, Doug.

     Wife Linda is such a great person to be around.  And she's a real terror on the golf course.  During the 10 reunions, we always had a a golf scramble matching the 4 brothers and sisters against the spouses.  Linda, who uses men's clubs and normally whales the ball off the men's tees, led the spouses' team to victories the last 6 years with her tremendous drives, this time from the ladies tees, always putting us in birdie position.

     On Saturday, they took us for a hike at nearby Roxborough State Park.  We thought our first two stops offered incomparable scenery, but this place was right in the running.  It was like giant slabs of rock had slammed into the Earth sideways.  The rocks made the most unusual formations; Diedre and Linda both saw the same image of George Washington lying down in the face of one giant rock formation.  Doug and I did not see it...to me, it looked more like two ducks kissing.

     One of our goals (OK, mostly mine; Diedre agreed to it only if a new coffee grinder was involved) is to see all 30 major league baseball stadiums..  Before this trip, we had seen 11.  Our schedule calls for us to see 5 stadiums (Midwest) this year, 10 in 2014 (East and South), and the remaining 4 in 2015 (West coast).  I've actually been in 19 major league parks, but I'm so old, 8 of them have been torn down or turned into Jiffy Lubes.  Anyway, on Sunday the 19th, the 4 of us were up bright and early heading to Coors Field and a game between the Colorado Rockies and the World Champion San Francisco Giants.  We first toured downtown Denver, really a lovely city with an incredible arts district.  Diedre and I both remarked how much a pedestrian friendly area of Denver reminded us both of the famous "Nicollet Mall" in downtown Minneapolis.  Brother Doug remarked, "Well it should.  They (Denver) copied the idea from them."   

     Then we saw the Rockies beat the world champs 5-0 on an absolutely lovely Sunday afternoon.  Joining us at the game was Doug and Linda's older son (Rusty), his wife (Melinda), and their kids (Macayla and Connor).  It was a tough game for the San Francisco area native Melinda.  And unfortunately for her, I can tell that year-old Connor is already a Rockies fan. 

       One of the highlights for me at Coors Field was the consumption of a giant Cheddarwurst.  I hadn't had one since my last Souper Bowl Party outdoors in Minneapolis in 2003.  Talk about your delayed gratification.

     Diedre and I first played golf together in Fountain Hills, Arizona, in April of 1988 after we had been dating about 3 months.  Trying to impress my date, I thought I'd show her how it was done.  My first drive boomed about 275 yards.  Unfortunately, it went a bit, as we say in Arizona, "desert left" and into the thick of a giant scorpion convention.  Diedre's drive was right down the middle of the tricky par 4.  I took three shots just to return to the land of the living.  Diedre's 2nd took a nice bounce and rolled to the edge of the green.  I picked up with an 8, then watched as she proceeded to roll in a 60-footer for birdie on the first hole we ever played together.

     I try not to offer golf tips to her anymore.

      So, Tuesday Doug and Linda took us to their home course, Perry Park.  Playing there is like golfing on Easter Island.  There are giant red-rock monoliths everywhere.  Their driving range is fun; it's a lake with a current that brings the floating golf balls back to the clubhouse.  No need for a tractor-retriever there.

     Diedre and I both play golf by our own 90% philosophies: while I believe that 90% of short putts won't go in, she thinks the game as a whole is 90% physical and the rest is half-mental.  Fortunately, the two of us like to always play the scramble format so that we're almost always hitting from a good spot.  Plus, there's just one score for the both of us.  I mean, we're out there for fun, right?

     Wednesday we left the friendly confines of the Diederich driveway (Remember, as Diedre's dad, Fritz, used to say, "You spell Diederich 'died rich' with an 'E' in the middle.") for the northern Denver suburb of Brighton and an RV Park worthy of the names "Ma & Pa Kettle."  Here's a good story: the first morning we're there, Diedre decides to use the facility's women's room shower.  A maid came in to clean the place.  She kept propping the door wide open to the viewing public, either unaware or not caring that Diedre was showering.  Diedre, in the all-together, had to keep sneaking out of the shower to close the door.  After the 2nd time, the maid just stood there giving my wife the big hairy eyeball.  Always one to give as good as she gets, Diedre, wearing just her Mickey-Mouse designer bath towel, glared back and said to the slovenly cleaner, "Hey!  Don't make me summon my flying monkeys!"

     A mile from the campground lives my Arizona softball buddy, Bruce Stricklett, and his wife, Chris.  Since I'll be seeing almost all of my Arizona softball teammates on the Rox this trip, I brought one of our trophies along as a sort of traveling team plaque.  Since no one originally wanted it, I'll be moving it from ballplayer's place to ballplayer's place before settling on a permanent place to enshrine it.  Right now Salvation Army and Goodwill are in the running.

      It's funny seeing my Arizona friends out of the softball field environment and in their true element.  On this visit, we found out so much about these two.  Bruce, the oldest of 7 children, was a hard worker from the time he could walk.  He even moved out of the 2-bedroom family home and supported himself as a high-school junior.  Ever the hard worker, he pledged to be able to retire by the age of 45.  He only missed it by 1 year.  His car restoration hobby gave him a second career.  He also became the godfather of Brighton softball, creating the first girls fast pitch team and eventually coaching them to a 2nd place state tournament finish.  Son Marty followed in Bruce's footsteps and has surpassed the old man with 3 actual state championships as a high school softball coach.

     The Stricklett homestead is a family dream, the exact opposite of the Barone estate on "Everybody Loves Raymond."  On his multi-acre plot, there rests houses for Bruce and Chris as well as one for one of his sons and one for his daughter.  Grandkids, dogs, and cats are all over the place.  There are even a few chickens.  That's the way Bruce and Chris like it.

     The front yard has a built-in whiffle ball park, and the extra long driveway is painted to double as a tennis court.  There's even a ground-level trampoline, although now it's used mainly by the dogs.  The chickens' eggs were given to us; you can't believe how good REALLY fresh eggs taste. 

         Bruce and son Marty's car care business is thriving.  And the front office is a collector's dream, decorated in early, antique Coca-Cola and adorned with Colorado sports memorabilia.  Still the collector, he even has one of only 50 1992 NASCAR Brickhouse 400 pace cars.

On Thursday, Bruce and Chris wanted to take us to dinner in Denver at the newly celebrated Highland Tavern.  The neighborhood bar had achieved quite the notoriety recently with its appearance on TV's "Diners, Drive-Ins, and Dives" show.  They're known for their incredible tater tots.  I tried to get Diedre a restaurant t-shirt that read across the chest, "NICE TOTS!," but being the demure, classy lady that she is, she told me to "take a hike.."

     Friday was a great day for exploring.  First up was the little mountain enclave of Nederland, high up among the Swiss Alps ... I have no idea how that happened.  

 Diedre had a great cappucino there while I spent the morning trying on gloves at the local hardware store.  Then it was down the hill to scenic Boulder, Colorado, home of the University of Colorado.  We walked the spectacular Pearl Street outdoor mall where street musicians, artists, and people with way high glucose levels freely roamed.  I had a close encounter with a former arch-enemy of mine (see photo), but in the end, good won out and all was well in the shire.

     The day ended with a wonderful dinner at Diedre's cousin's house.  Doug Speirn-Smith and beautiful wife Christie are just delightful.  Doug's dad and Diedre's mom were brother and sister.  It was so much fun to finally see where they live.  We'll be seeing Doug's mother, Diedre's "Aunt Jane," in Michigan later on in this trip.  She's always good for a million laughs, even at 89.

     As our Colorado time drew to close, we took one last day-trip, this time with Bruce and Chris to Estes Park.  My only contact with that town over the years was as an answer in many crossword puzzles.  But Estes Park was truly lovely (Truly Lovely?  Sounds like the lead in one of my idiotic plays). 

The fun, mountain-on-a-river town was highlighted by a trip up to the majestic and beautiful Stanley Hotel. 

  You'll remember this place: built in 1909, it was the inspiration for Stephen King's masterful ghoul fest movie mini-series, "The Shining."  Unfortunately for Diedre, Bruce, and Chris, my exposure to the place caused me to break out into a myriad number of awful Jack Nicholson impersonations:

     "Here's Johnny!"

     "Wait till they get a load of me."

     "I want you to take the tuna salad and hold it between your knees."

     "You want the truth?!  YOU CAN'T HANDLE THE TRUTH!"

     OK, so that's about it for Colorado.  See you next time on AlexanderAdventurers.blogspot.com when we explore that mysterious and ancient land, South Dakota, and answer that age old question: "The Dakotas ... Do We Really Need Two of Them?"

     See you then.

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Diedre here gang...just a few more additions...

Near the Brighton campground was Barr Lake which, except for the huge mosquitos that my poor body hadn't encountered since the years ago that we left Minnesota, was quite lovely.  Alexx and I hiked it on our day of arrival and since the park pass was good until noon the following day, we hit it again the following morning.  I was happy to get to use my lovely walking stick again that I had acquired in Silverton.  Along the way Alexx's sharp eye kept me from stepping on a slithering friend...right after I had mentioned how good it would be to have the walking stick in case we encountered any snakes!

The cats are doing well and we continue to love our travels.  There was a close encounter for the merry threesome as Alexx and I contemplated adopting the little kitten at the Stricklett's that Alexx is holding above.  But each morning when I clear the litter box I'm reminded that one more cat in our traveling home would probably not be a good idea.  Sure was a close call.  If we had named it...I don't think I could have said goodbye to it.  Perhaps when we come off the road in ten years we'll be ready for a new chapter...a cat compound!  Fairwell to all.  Hope you are enjoying the start of this lovely summer!  Thanks for following us!

Day 12 of 178 - Ouray, Colorado

HOO-RAY FOR OURAY!!  (YOU-ray or you-RAY ... it's a personal preference)  In September of 2008, Diedre and I spent her birthday weekend in this lovely little town.  During a walk, we happened by a wonderful RV park in town located right on the Uncompahgre River. I think that may have been the start of our RV desires.

      After arriving Sunday and setting-up (Diedre on the inside, me on the outside as the good lord intended), we decided to walk the 4-block long town and look for dinner.  In keeping with the John Wayne theme that dominated our time in Monument Valley, we had dinner with John Wayne's hat that night.  Don't worry, I'll explain.  About 45 years ago during the filming of the original "True Grit" movie, the Duke stopped in to the Outlaws Restaurant in Ouray.  When he left the restaurant, a waitress chased after him, exclaiming, "Mr. Wayne!  You forgot your hat!"  Big John replied, "That's DUKE, little lady.  Why don't you just keep it until I come back."  So they tacked it up above the bar and there it has resided lo these last 45 years.  I don't think he's coming back.

     On the drive that day, Diedre's head cold started.  If history teaches us anything, besides the fact that Germans are not that good in a World War, it's that my cold won't be far behind.  Sure enough, by Tuesday my full-blown cold came to stay for the rest of the week.

     The big excitement Monday morning when I made my way to the campground showers was that during the night, a wayward small black bear decided he needed to freshen up.  The door to the men's showers was knocked off its hinges.  Very impressive.  I'm just glad for the bear's safety that he didn't come anywhere near AB1; my 9-pound Birman attack cat, Casey, would probably have torn him to shreds.

   Monday's day trip was to the equally enthralling little town of Telluride.  Wife Diedre was taken with the burg enough that she enacted an old habit where she decided we needed to move there right away.  She's done that also with Scotland, Victoria, and, strangely enough, Tijuana.  In Telluride, we had a great happy hour at Smuggler's, one of the few places open that day.   

Diedre couldn't pass up this t-shirt from Smuggler's that combined cats, beer and sunglasses!

Our lesson learned: no day trips on Mondays if you want to actually go inside a shop or pub.

     Tuesday, with a pair of colds in full battle array, we decided to just replenish our massive RV pantry with a little grocery shopping.  Note that in the previous two weeks, I had not spied one newspaper (except the "The Navajo Times") and Diedre had not garnered a whiff of one Starbucks in either Monument Valley or Ouray (Is that even possible?).  Fortunately, we went 10 miles away to the teeming metropolis of Ridgway, twice as big as Ouray (Ridgway had 1 stoplight to Ouray's 0).  Sure enough, I found a "Denver Post" at the grocery store and Diedre had her first good cup of coffee in weeks at the world famous and only existing "Cimarron Bookstore Coffeehouse."  Her irritability and my general lack of knowledge quickly abated.

     Wednesday I made a return trip to Ridgway.  An old college chum and basketball star who goes by the sole name of "Strauss" had an article in the "Retirement section" of that day's "New York Times."  Just like Paris, Chicago, and Los Angeles, the NY Times is required reading in Ridgway.  Since all of you reading this are either at or near retirement age, I'm making this required reading.

Box Canon Falls

     While wandering aimlessly around Ridgway, I learned that the little town was the home of "Gunsmoke's" Dennis Weaver ("MARSHALL DILLON!  MARSHALL DILLON!")  And it was also the site of many outdoor scenes for the aforementioned movie "True Grit."  So like any good cinephile (I hope that's the right word), I made my way to The True Grit Cafe, where the John Wayne theme of our trip thundered on.  The really amazing thing about this area, which includes Ouray, Telluride, and now Ridgway, is that no matter where you walk in town, you're surrounded by sunny skies, temps in the 70s, yet all the while snow is still covering the mountains off in the distance.

     Back in Ouray, we gamely hiked up to the top of the incredible Box Canyon Falls.  We had done this climb in September of 2008.  Is there any way they could have made it higher in the intervening 4+ years?  The sad highlight of this trip for me was that I mainly remembered from the previous ascension a blue house at the base of the falls.  Check out the before and after photos. 

Sept. 23, 2008

May 15, 2013

     That night, we met up with Englishwoman Angela Goodacre; our meet-cute was set up by Angela's grade-school chum and our close Terravita friend and neighbor, Lesley King.  We learned that the recently retired Angela is a rock/mountain climber as is her husband, who amazingly enough, is slated to climb to the summit of the granite monolith and one of the world's favorite challenges, Yosemite's El Capitan, at the age of 70 (her husband is 70, not El Capitan; it's got to be at least a hundred).  I get tired just climbing the 3 steps into our RV.

Angela, Alexx, Diedre at O'Briens in Ouray

     Oh, but our big news that day was ... wait for it ... THE FIRST SALE OF MY BOOK!!  (Some guy in Arkansas ... go figure)

     Yes, the ever-clever Diedre had posted an opportunity for people to purchase the book as soon as it becomes available through a Paypal Button on the blog (www.FastestGunInHollywood.blogspot.com in case you're mildly interested in more of my drivel). We expect the shipment of books will arrive some mysterious time in late June.

     But the really good news  (Wait? There's more?) was regarding our favorite chocolate manufacturer in the world, Mouse's in Ouray, whose chocolates were a thing of ecstasy for me but a joy I thought I had lost since the big Diabetes scare of 2011.  Diedre, being the kind and caring woman she is, decided I could try a glucose (blood-sugar) reading after a sampling of Mouse's sublime chocolate toffee (dark chocolate and definitely not sugar-free).  She figured out some way in that food-voo-doo-she-do-so well, that I might be able to re-partake of this little bit of heaven.  The pre-toffee glucose reading (in which I have to savagely rip into my tender skin for a blood droplet) was 95; miraculously, the post-toffee reading an hour later was 106.  Anything less than a 20-point increase means it's OK for me to ingest reasonable amounts, "reasonable" being a term Diedre and I are having mediated.  So, as Bill Murray said in "Caddyshack," "At least I got that going for me."

      Thursday we celebrated our last day in Ouray ... by making the treacherous 24-mile trip to the old mining town of Silverton.  14 of the miles were on a razor thin strip of 2-lane road with no guard rails, virtually no shoulders, but with an ample supply of 1,000-foot drop offs.  I suggested Diedre close her eyes as I did during the really scary parts.  Of course, I was driving, so that effort had negligible results. 

Alexx is aware of the Avalanche warning

Diedre contemplates leaving on the next train.

So this is the Notorious Blair Street!

     In the 1800's, Silverton's rough and tough night life was divided in half.  Respectable folk resided on Greene Street while the notorious Blair Street was well known for being home to the degenerate side of life:  whores, gamblers, THEATRE folk ... wait, what?! ... and those broads who wore the red hats (OK, that was from my play "Murder at Savings & Loan Ballpark, aka SLoB"; I just couldn't resist.  It's a favorite gag of mine.) 

My thoughts of the soiled doves of a bygone era drove Diedre into the arms of another man.

     So it's Friday now and we're leaving for the Denver suburb of Larkspur, home of 8 of Diedre's relatives and nearby to a senior softball pal (You know, senior softball guys probably belong on the notorious Blair Street in Silverton.)  Larkspur really has to be on top of its game if it wants to compete with the incredible scenery we've experienced so far in Monument Valley and Ouray.  Let the games begin.

    Let me leave this part of the blog with these wise words for you from the bathroom walls at The True Grit Cafe: 

"Never squat with your spurs on."

OUCH!

     See you next week.
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