Bicycle Trip to Glenwood Springs

Friend Jam and I had been planning a bicycle trip from Denver to Glenwood Springs for quite some time. I started training in January or February when I got a gym membership to use their spin cycles in cold weather. When the weather began to warm, I would take my bicycles out, riding both for distance and endurance, carrying weight on my bike from Denver to Aurora, from Aurora to Parker. While doing an endurance ride down to Parker, Jam and I stopped to chat with another couple with panniers on their bikes, on both the front and the rear (Jam enjoys talking about bikes as much as riding them). Turns out they were training for a tour, too, by carrying rice and beans in their panniers and riding around the reservoir. That was pretty neat. I think I want to get panniers for the front of my bike after seeing their set-up. Jam registered for a Metric Century ride in the mountains on May 20th, a 100 km (~62miles) route through the mountains. I had been feeling depressed and had not had the motivation to register, but come that weekend, I dragged myself out of my slump and hit the trail early that morning. I started the same time Jam and the other cyclists started, but while they were in the mountains, I stuck to the Cherry Creek Trail. I rode from home, down past Parker and back, then past home toward Denver, then back home again. Exactly 100km, and no more -- my right knee was killing me! I was elated through the pain, however, as that was the farthest I had ever ridden in one day! Our plan was to ride 50-60 mile days to Glenwood Springs. I knew I'd be able to ride 60 miles on Day 1, but I was unsure how I'd do the following days, if my knees then were any indication.

I ought to mention, before I start the day-by-day, I had 2 bikes. I rode my trusty mountain bike-ish Meeko on this trip. My other bike, which I recently named Noodle, is a perfect fit for me. It's tall enough, it's got drop handlebars, and the frame is long enough to accommodate for leaning forward and low. Its problem is that it inevitably shudders and wobbles when going over something like 20 mph, which, had I taken it on this trip, probably would have gotten me killed. Also, Jam's bike is a touring bike that she calls Bike (pronounced Bee-Kay).


Thursday, July 12
   Distance: 45.31 miles
   Average Speed: 8.2 mph
   Max Speed ~ 30-35 mph
   Time in Saddle: 5:31

The day had finally come. Jam and I set off on our bikes early in the morning and met at the Usual Spot, a bridge near Cook Park we call North Bridge. It's called that because it's north of the bridge we call South Bridge. The air was refreshingly chill; between that and the light exercise up the Cherry Creek Trail, it was a great way to start the day. We rode our usual route downtown; but the familiarity went by fast. Soon we were biking in parts of town I had only explored by car, and soon, closer to the foothills, places I had only been once or twice. And we were headed places I had never been. Super. Exciting. After departing the trail beyond downtown, we cycled the roads through Wheat Ridge, and Lakewood, and Golden. The confidence required to take a road lane on a cycle is empowering. We stopped at a convenience store to pick up some things we forgot; mainly, instant coffee and sunscreen. Good Lourde, did we need that sunscreen! We ended up lightly toasted from cycling in the heat of the day for 6-8 hours each day. The ride from downtown to Golden, only slightly uphill, is hardly a challenge during a short ride, but definitely noticeable with 40 pounds of cargo weighing us both down. As exciting as this start to the adventure was, I had a nagging worry in the back of my mind that I was under-prepared for the long stretches of steep grades that lay ahead. Jam reminded me that it's not only just recommended to use the granny gear, its use would be crucial to avoid knee injuries while towing our cargo up the mountains. I had to put my pride aside and shift down, but goodness, was I ever grateful for that gear in the coming days. (Addendum: Noodle doesn't have a granny gear, so that's one more reason it would have been a difficult bike to ride on this trip.)

We rode a ways into the hills, alongside frontage roads by the interstate. The climbing was slow, and the scenery was rocky, but saw more forest once we diverged from the interstate a ways. At one point, after all that climbing, we went down a road that went downhill for a long while. We weren't completely certain that this was the right direction, and I was really hoping it was. I was not ready for another long climb back up to the correct route. But the week would be chock full of long climbs. We rode further down this rode through some country property, some mountain ranches and such. My knee had been twinging for the longest time, and I knew I wouldn't be able to make it much further. We stopped by a quarry for a bit when the pain spiked, and the rain started spittin' at us. We took shelter at a highway underpass as the rain poured gently down, but decided that since we didn't have much farther to go to our Day 1 Destination, we should just go on anyway. Once we left the shelter, riding down a bike path by the river, the rain poured much more heavily. We were drenched and in pain and laughing like maniacs, because how else were we supposed to react? A little ways down we found a fuel station with a high overhang, and pulled under for shelter. The rain was coming down so hard we could barely see through our glasses, and we were worried it would start to hail. We decided to wait out the storm in the convenience store, a sasquatch-themed shop that served, among other things, hot tea and coffee. Inside, we decided to book a hotel in Idaho Springs for the night, instead of trying to set up camp outside town in the rain. When the rain let up, we biked the few miles to the hotel, and checked in.

The internet reviews for Argo Suites said they had a hot tub. After checking in, we sadly realized it meant there were private jacuzzis in the King Suites, and we booked a Double Queen. The bathtub was long enough for me to lay in, though, and for that, I was grateful as I soaked my knees. Jam and I both were aching, and were worried we wouldn't be able to continue cycling in the morning. Since we by no means wanted to turn around -- we had already booked the hotel in, and the train from, Glenwood Springs -- we each called our mothers to set up a Plan B. If we couldn't cycle the next morning, my Mum agreed to drive up to Idaho Springs where we were staying, pick us up, and drive us to the Day 2 Destination, Dillon. During our conversation, Mom found out I was drinking Gatorade for electrolytes, and told me to ditch that trash. It didn't have everything I needed, and what it did have was in inadequate amounts. She suggested finding electrolyte supplements at a health store, or the like. Fortunately, I remembered that Safeway sold them, and realizing there was one store just down the block, we set out for those tablets and some ibuprofen.

Parked at a rest stop.

Under the highway a ways outside of Idaho Springs.

Friday, July 13
   Distance: 63.3 miles
   Average Speed: 8.0 mph
   Max Speed: ~ 35-40 mph
   Time in Saddle: 7:51

The following morning, as we woke, we still felt achy, but decided to tackle the road anyway. The pain killers and electrolytes had us off to a good start, but the knee compression braces we brought along and the KT Tape we taped our knees with really kept us going. The first leg of today's route took us on frontage roads that followed the river which swept along several rafts paddling by, and we passed by some high ropes course structures and scrap yards. Eventually we made it to a trailhead which led us away from the highway up some nice climbs, through a gorgeous forest with streamlets pouring down the hillside, and wildflowers peppering the terrain. Cyclists would periodically whiz by us down the path, only emphasizing the grade of the slope we were climbing. We emerged from the forest near a ski lodge, its hill verdant and sunny, adorned with hibernating ski lifts. We took a rest for a spell in the parking lot before the day's final ascent, Loveland Pass. At 11,990 feet in altitude, to the top of the pass from Denver we had ascended 6,710 feet(though with all the downhill stretches we rode in addition to the uphills, we ended up climbing much farther). The ascent was slow and grueling. Earlier in the year for training, I would climb the road up Lookout Mountain in Golden, and I would always bring an apple to eat to distract myself from the pain (and later, after I became more fit, just to pass the time). In the same habit, I stocked up on apples regularly throughout the trip, and I ate one while cycling up the pass. I almost choked on my snack at one point, as my breathing was more labored than usual on this crazy incline. The major climb was only about 4.5 miles, but it seemed to last forever; yet at the end of forever was the top of the pass. I wish we could have stayed longer at the top to appreciate the view, the fruits of our ascent, but I urgently needed to use the restroom, so we hit the road after a short rest. The downhill ride was exhilarating and terrifying! Our bikes soared beneath us as we raced down Route 6 at 40+ mph. The switchback turns threatened to launch us off the side of the mountain were we to lose control. I was riding my brakes for the first bit, and Jam rushed on ahead. I lost sight of her after a few minutes. I realized that if I wrecked, it wouldn't make a difference if I was going my current speed, or Jam's speed; I'd be severely damaged either way. I courageously decided not to ride my brakes, except around corners or when catching up to the traffic ahead. Besides, I didn't know how much longer this hill would go on. If I wore out the brake pads early on, what would happen when I would need them later down the hill? There was the Arapahoe Basin ski area about 3.5 miles down a ways, where I pulled in to use their WC and refill my empty water bottles. It was about 12 more miles down the mountain before we got to the REI in Dillon, where we stopped in for more KT Tape for our knees. While snacking outside the REI, another cyclist walked up to us to chit chat. We talked about our journey so far, and where we were going; and she talked about her plans to cycle up a local mountain after staying at a cabin that belonged to a relative of hers. She then realized, she knew us, and asked if we had been cycling on the Cherry Creek Trail several months ago. Yes, that was one of our usual training routes. She called her boyfriend over, and reintroduced themselves as the Rice-and-Beans Cyclists who we met near the Cherry Creek Reservoir several months back! How serendipitous! What a small world!

We continued our way around Dillon Reservoir on a bike path and passed through some campgrounds. We were keeping an eye out for any vacancies, when we realized that we had to pay the camp fee in cash, which neither of us had. Our options were to go back to Dillon to a bank or ATM there, or forward to Frisco. We decided to go forward, and eventually found a bank we were able to withdraw from. My knees were murdering me alive by this point. We thought our chances of finding a vacant campsite would be better if we continued further around the reservoir where there were two other campgrounds, than to retrace our route to the grounds we passed. Well, we didn't find any vacancies. Barely able to cycle any further, I pathetically requested we book a hotel in Frisco, and upon arriving at the cheapest one in the area, crashed into the room to rest. Now, this particular hotel has a backstory. I had stayed at the hotel the previous November while on business in Frisco. I had stayed in the exact room that Jam and I had booked. And Ryan's Yearbook (#RyansYearbook) was still in the bedside table!

At a smidge over 63 miles, I broke my personal record for longest distance cycled in a day!

We cycled under a rail bridge early in the day.

I stopped for an apple break while ascending Loveland Pass.

Saturday, July 14
   Distance: 66.8 miles
   Average Speed: 11.1 mph
   Max Speed: ~ 30-35 mph
   Time in Saddle: 5:58

We left the hotel after breakfast and rode through the neighborhoods toward the trailhead, and followed the trail through the aspens out of town. Further out of town, we saw tent and hammock campsites set up along the river near the bike path. It wasn't long at all before we came into Copper Mountain. Along a stretch of the road, tents and vendors were set up, and cyclists were gathering. There is a cycling event in the Rocky Mountains called the Triple Bypass, where participants cycle over three mountain passes over the course of the day. Shorter events held by the same folks are the Double Bypass and the Single Bypass. Copper Mountain was the starting line for the Single Bypass, but cyclists from the longer routes were still passing through; all of the routes finished at the same place, Nottingham Park in Avon. We followed the bike trail up and over Vail Pass. The grade wasn't as steep as Loveland, and the climb wasn't as high, but the pace was still slow, what with our weight and knees. The other cyclists were so nice, asking us about our journey; how far and from whence we've come, whither we were headed, how much weight we were carrying. They were super encouraging, too, us being touring cyclists laden with gear amongst thousands of lightweight efficiency aficionados. I got So Many Remarks on how rugged I was for hauling the extra weight of a kickstand on my bike, hahaha. The bike path over Vail Pass was beautiful, and the incline was manageable, and the descent was easier as well. However, instead of an entire road lane to myself, I had a bike lane on a bike path with patches of gravel here and there with other cyclists passing me; so I was still a little uneasy descending, but I wouldn't say I was terrified. As we approached the town of Avon, we decided to follow the rest of the cyclists to the finish line, even though our westward route split off somewhat sooner. Leaving the bike path behind, we all took to the streets. Volunteers waved flags marking the route, and police managed traffic for us. As we entered and departed one roundabout, a volunteer cried, "Great lane control!" Empowering. We crossed the finish line. Our journey had come to an end... We Were Triumphant! Hahaha, if only we had actually registered for the event! We sat down for a lunch in the park packed full of other cyclists. Spirits were high. I had shared in something new and unique. I had Nutella, dried pineapple, and pistachios. The playground in this park had a zip line of sorts. The children were gracious enough to let me try it.

We left the park and tried to find our route again. We ended up in some weird country club or something, climbing a big hill lined with flags, and Jam could tell there was an easier route along the main road. But I had already started this hill, and with two literal mountain passes behind me, I felt like I could manage this knoll. We came across the trail again that led us under a spooky bridge. There were spider webs between every board and in every corner. We took the main road out of town for a while, keeping an eye out for landscape with campsite potential. There were campgrounds later by the river, that had a huge boulder in the center, but the grounds were full, and we kept on going. We passed a town on the map that we realized was entirely defined by a post office that we barely noticed. The further we went, the fewer trees there were, which was problematic cos Jam only had her hammock. We took our bikes off-roading a bit near a bridge and rail tracks in search of a site, but the scrublands and sand wastes offered no options to us, so we ended up booking a hotel again for the night, whoops. The hotel had a hot tub, and we certainly took advantage of it. I had salami and cheese, an apple, juice, and milk.

At nearly 67 miles, I again broke my record for the longest distance cycled in a day!

The path away out from Frisco, CO

Jam with Bike

A selfie by a pond.

Meeko and I

 Sunday, July 15
   Distance: 34 miles
   Average Speed: 12.3 mph
   Max Speed: ~ 30 mph
   Time in Saddle: 2:45

This was the final stretch of the route, and at 34 miles mostly down hills. We left the hotel and hit the road, riding the shoulder of Route 6 a ways. Jam has had her stuffed sloth named Raindrop with her cargo this whole ride, and I realized I didn't have cycling mascot for myself. A late realization, to be sure, but I looked around the landscape in search of one. There... wasn't much diversity in the way of mascots. Potential candidates were rocks and sticks. Maybe I'll have a mascot by the time my next cycle trip rolls around.

We switched from 6 to a frontage road, and followed the Colorado River until we made it to a trailhead, where we met a cyclist visiting from Australia. The path from the trailhead eventually led us into Glenwood Canyon. The canyon walls loomed high above us, their blocky geology overshadowing us. We passed the trailhead to Hanging Lake (we'll have drive back to visit this place in particular), a spooky power plant, and some rest stops along the highway. Tables and benches peppered the path -- the route to Hanging Lake from Glenwood Springs is heavily traveled. We stopped for lunch under the highway where the path crossed underneath. There was so much silt under there; it must have been brought up by the river when it would flood. We saw a deer, and a passenger train across the river. Surely that's the same one we would take back to Denver. Toward the end of the trail, we crossed over the highway. All that was keeping us from falling into the street was a tunnel of chain-link fence. It was pretty old and somewhat terrifying, the thought of falling into the fence over the interstate and having it collapse under its age and my weight. That didn't happen, so everything is okay. Suddenly the trail ended in a parking lot, which opened onto a street. There was a public pool house just over there, and a spa down there.... Had we...? Yes, we had made it! Our 210 mile cycle trip through the mountains had finally seen us to our destination, Glenwood Springs. The hotel we booked a room at before the trip, the Silver Spruce Inn (which, by the way, was the only modern sleeping accommodation we had originally planned on using the entire trip) wasn't too far. The buildings were built like old world alpine cottages, white exterior walls with brown wooden beams. The room was nice. Had a fridge and comfy beds and a nice shower with gorgeous agate tiles (I don't think it was real agate, but they still looked super pretty). We checked in a little early, dropped our cargo in the room, and left for the grocers. We bought ice cream to reward ourselves for our incredible journey. My flavor of the trip was Talenti's almond butter and honey gelato. It was phenomenal! We stopped at a liquor store for celebratory ciders, and started back to the room, when... I must have hit a pothole! The rear of my bike launched me over the handlebars, and nimble like a feline I landed upright and caught my bike before it fell further, before I even knew what had happened. Jam insists there was no pothole, that I had squeezed my front brake way too hard, not accustomed to how light Meeko was now that the cargo was removed. I think I believe her, although my landing was no exaggeration. On our way back, we passed several little tourist shops that we stopped in. I bought a particular scent of incense that is somewhat difficult to find, and a Glenwood Springs sticker to put on Meeko to commemorate the trip. I also picked up a couple of postcards that I sent out the following morning. At the inn, we changed into swim gear, grabbed our towels, and walked the other direction through town to the Iron Mountain Hot Springs. On the way, we passed the entrance to some sort of amusement park with gondolas. We should visit this on the next trip out here, we thought. The hot springs were something else. They had 16 pools of various temperatures on the premises, all of which were perfectly fine with me after four days of cycling. I wasn't picky. My joints were in such bliss and my muscles were so relaxed. We stayed until closing time, and watched the sun set behind the hills across the river.

A cliff wall in Glenwood Canyon

Shaded stone stairs near the ascent to Hanging Lake.

Monday, July 16
  Distance: 10 miles


Early in the morning, we checked out of the inn and moseyed around town taking pictures. We stopped in another tourist shop, and sent out postcards we had written the night before, then took the foot bridge across the highway to the train station. I was pretty excited, having never taken a train before. We waited in the lobby of the station for a bit. The furniture and decor of its interior was very elegant and picturesque. We stripped our bikes of the packs and had them stowed separately in the cargo, and we entered the passenger car. We had cracked open our delicious ciders, toasted, and started to drink, when the Train Narrator crackled his introduction over the intercom, and mentioned that alcoholic drinks where only permissible in the bar car. Whoops. He sounded like Jenkins from The Adventure Zone podcast! I took photos out the window, gorgeous canyon views and landscaped vistas, and the Train Narrator told of the history of the scenery. As we wound out of the hills, we could see Denver off in the distance, and as we approached and entered the city, I got a glimpse of the rough, industrial trainyards along the interstate. I'd pass them all the time, but I never got a good look at them from the road. We pulled into Union Station and dismounted to the platform, ran down the length of it to retrieve our bikes. I walked into the station to use the WC, and inside it looked gorgeous as the Glenwood Springs station, but on a grander scale. It was packed, though! Far too many people in there. We cycled the little stretch of 15th to get us to the Cherry Creek Trail, and at long last we were cycling on familiar ground, the last 10 miles of our journey. We stopped at the Kings behind Colorado and picked up ice cream and a light snack and took them to a picnic table along the trail. Storm clouds rolled overhead, and the sun made its descent to the horizon as we cycled up to North Bridge where we parted ways and rode the last few miles to home.

The bicycle trip was exhausting and exhilarating, and the most fun I've had in a very long time.

total trip stats:

   219.41 total miles

Jam and I at the Silver Spruce Inn in Glenwood Springs

We posed with an elk...

...right before skipping town.

The train station in Glenwood Springs

The canyon as seen from the train headed back to Denver.

A Wedding and Family Reunion

Last weekend I flew home once again to Pennsylvania to attend my brother Kyle’s wedding. I met with my brothers the morning after I landed there, and we went to Panera Bread and Dunkin Donuts for breakfast. I ran into Peter E., a fellow youth group goer from back in the day, in the Panera Bread, which was rather neat. He’s doing well, taking some classes at a college the next town over.

After breakfast, we drove the whole day to meet Grandma, and then Grandpa. I rode in Andrew’s car with him and Carys and Lennon. His license plate says IMAGINE and he reupholstered his ceiling with a yin-yang tapestry, and it looks really cool. Grandma seemed healthy and good. She was happy to see Julia, Melony, and Carys and Lennon. They made her day. She made us lunch, consisting of that salad I had always hated, dandelion salad. This time, she made it with spinach, but it was still bitter. Despite how much I always hated it growing up, I found a liking for it, now that my pallet has become accustomed to bitterness. After saying our goodbyes, we drove off toward Grandpa’s house. We stayed at Grandma's longer than anticipated, so at the last minute, instead of dropping by his house, he had us meet him for dinner at a local buffet. The food there was very good, especially considering it was a buffet. It was good to see Grandpa again; it has been a very long while. He and Barb are still together, which is a good thing. She is considerably younger than him, and it’s good that he has somebody like her to help him keep tabs on his health as he ages. After dinner, we played around the restaurant a while, the girls running around, and I held Julia for the first time as Aaron and Sharon excused themselves to the bathrooms. I sang “Tom’s Diner” to her as I bounced her up and down to keep her occupied. We said our goodbyes and drove home.

The following day, Saturday, we had breakfast, and I borrowed Aaron’s rental car to go visit Shawn S. I stopped at a florist to pick up some flowers. From there I had a difficult time finding the cemetery. It has been a long time since I drove the Pennsylvania roads, and I forgot how to get there, as well as its name. It wasn’t even marked on Google Maps, but I eventually found it by studying the streets on my phone and finding the familiar turn-off. I left the flowers on his grave, and mused a bit, and left two pennies on his stone. Then I headed home. We headed out in the afternoon to Moraine State Park, where we had lunch and met with the family and the wedding party. It was good to see my brothers and sisters again. It was strange to see all the kids they had in my absence. They had started their own families; the next generation was already growing up, and I felt old. There were pontoon boat rides over the lake, but I opted to stay ashore. Cori, Keith, and I went to the liquor store to pick up Gin and Rum, then we headed over to the Lodge where the wedding party was staying. We played some card games, like Monty Python Fluxx, and drank, and had dinner. The kids decorated the wedding cake, and it looked amazing, with decorations and colored sugar all over the place. Link and Zelda figurines stood atop the cake. Aaron and Sharon and Julia and I headed home.

Sunday was the day of the wedding, at the lake. It was a short but memorable ceremony, followed by a lunch at the pavilion. Keith and Bailey made remarkable speeches; Keith’s, serious, Bailey’s, humorous. We headed back to lodge, where we played a round of Dominion that I nearly won. I had set up my hand so that I would have access to 6 coin automatically, nearly every turn of mine, even before drawing any coin cards. I lost because we rushed the ending. There was drinking, and dancing. I made several gin & tonics for Cori and Vicki, who appreciated the quality of the gin very much. Hairspray, my tail. :P We went outside later into the night to watch the lunar eclipse; it was mostly obscured by clouds, but the whole group of us, sitting in the field, talking and laughing, made me feel at home. I wish I could experience more like this, where I feel surrounded by family and good company. I played a round of Poker with Kyle, Jill, and a few of their friends. I was extremely rusty, and eventually went bankrupt, but it was all good fun. Andrew drove us home, but on the way, we stopped at a haunted graveyard in the backwoods by a less-traveled trail on the far side of the lake. It was kinda creepy, but beautiful at the same time.

It’s always at these family weddings where I am inevitably faced with the lack of romantic relationships in my experience. I am reminded of my need for therapy to overcome the association of gay sex (any sex, really) and SIN, the dread afterwards, the anxiety beforehand. I don’t really know why I have been putting off getting started on this.

Monday morning came, and all the siblings came together for breakfast at Dad’s house. Aaron and Sharon, Andrew, Pam, and myself. We had eggs and bagels and coffee. Towards the early afternoon, we said our goodbyes as Andrew and his kids took off, but not before taking a picture with the 4 of us Schiffer “kids”. Aaron and Sharon and I then left for the airport, a little bit later.

On the flight in, I finished reading “All Quite on the Western Front” by Erich Maria Remarque. It is a story about death and the loss of innocence through war and violence. It was a very somber story, and not quite the best way to start off the vacation. However, it got me thinking… When people ask me what my greatest fear is, I usually respond, spiders. But I can manage spiders. I can squash them or move them outdoors. My greatest fear is death; specifically, a long, painful, drawn-out death. I smoked cigarettes with Andrew and Cori this weekend, but after reviewing this, I quit right after returning to Denver. I greatly fear suffering through cancer.

I also realized how much I miss my family. In Denver, I tried constructing a pride many times, but people and friendships are always in flux. My plan was to move to Seattle, or thereabouts; however, I am considering moving back to the east coast to be nearer to my brothers. It’s like Baz Luhrmann said in Everybody’s Free (To Wear Sunscreen): “Be nice to your siblings; they are the best link to your past, and the people most likely to stick with you in the future… Work hard to bridge the gaps in geography and lifestyle, because the older you get, the more you need the people you knew when you were young.” There is no better fit to a pride than my actual family, I realize. I did try to reconcile with my sister. She seemed willing to go along with it, actually. I still feel the need to keep up my guard around her; I’ve been burned a few times too many times by her application of her beliefs. I hope she understands that now. I want to be her brother again, but I don’t want to open myself up to more grief.

Overall, my weekend was wonderful. I was able to see my wonderful family again, and, now that I have my credit cards paid off, I can start saving toward travel funds again. I was given much to think about, too: therapy, mortality, family and my relationship with my siblings… There was no better way to spend the weekend, I think.

Home Feels Distant

I moved into a house with a few friends. It's been a few weeks already, and yet it doesn't feel like home. I'm not sure what it is about this place; maybe it's because there are still boxes everywhere, or maybe because so little of the furniture is mine, or because my pictures aren't hung up. I'll give it more time. It's just difficult coming home after stressful days at work and long commutes, and not feeling comfortable. Haven't felt like myself in a while. Well, my brothers are visiting the state over Christmas holiday. I think being around them will help me feel like myself again. Chin up, eyes to the sky.

Dreams

Lately, I've been under a lot of stress from my job. But at my core there is a little nugget of peace that I try to keep a hold of. These dreams I have been having lately...dreams of being a lion again. I just try to hold on to them.

Pride

Pride (Full Metal Alchemist: Brotherhood)

I look in the mirror. Fix my hair. Trim my sideburns. Apply a little lotion. 

I look in the mirror, fixing my hair again. I sure use the mirror a lot.

Sometimes I just can't, though. I can't meet my own eyes.

The glass reflects neither who I am,

nor who I should be,

nor who I want to be.

What kind of lion turns on his own pride?

Inexperience. Out of my element. Afraid.

But those are poor excuses.

There is shame in the mirror. 

And every time I look there to fix up my gorgeous mane,

or to rinse my eyes, or check my mouth,

I see it in me, in place of me.

It is ironic that the cardinal sin of a lion is pride.

But, fuck if I will let guilt consume me.
Onward I walk, once again,
to find a pride again.
Hopefully I will learn from my repeat mistakes,
that consequences will leave a lasting impression,
not of shame, but of experience and wisdom.
That my pride will not have have to fear me, but to trust me.
That I can trust myself to protect and honor them.

Cabin Camping in Cripple Creek

Wolf, Led, and I decided to go camping this weekend, so we looked online at campgrounds. No close tent sites had open reservations, so we started checking out cabins at KOAs. We found one campground near Cripple Creek, about an hour west of the Springs. It's the highest campground in the world!*

We shoved all our things into the car and drive south. We were going to meet Jam in Manitou Springs, hang out with her for the night at the site, but she called it off, as she was feeling mega sick. So, on we drove through the night, along the bendy, narrow roads, until we saw among the darkness, a small grove of lights on the hillside in the distance. It was our site. We arrived plenty late, and our cabin was the most secluded of them all. It was fenced off the rest of the site and was next to the storage containers that the campground used for lawnmowers and such, but it was good. We began to unpack our things from the car.

Wolf brought his mega-noculars and set it up on its tripod.  He adjusted the lenses and focus until he could see the moon, its craters and maria, clear and neat. Earth's moon is quite beautiful, truth. Led and I went up to the forest edge and peered into the darkness. We made our beds got comfy, and told toast stories. Led is mega easy to scare, and I kinda feel bad at how much we scared him. But it was amusing! My story of the Sempiternal Silhouette was kinda weird, but I like the antagonist enough to want to draw concept sketches of him. Wolf had a timer set on his phone to play some creepy demonic chanting childish hell-voice in the middle of the night. That was freaky, for sure. I kinda wonder how things would have played out if he set it to the young children who say, "Mommy? I'm scared. I'm scared, Daddy." just out of the blue, in the middle of the night. We talked a lot about Wolf's idea for a new LARP, and I'm excited for this much. I am stoked about setting up an in-game, country-wide postal system, for sure, and I think it will be great to play around in one of Wolf's worlds. At something like 4: in the morning, I heard Led and Wolf talking and getting out of bed, heard something about stars, and so I got out of bed, donned my pants and hoody, and went outside. The sky was amazing and bright. Not so bright that the Milky Way was just a cloud of light in the sky, illuminating the otherwise pitch black of the world. Not that bright, but still plenty breathtaking. The celestial sphere had turned from where I had learned a good chunk of the constellations, so I was a little bit lost. Vega was no longer above me. Everythings were sideways. Shooting stars streaked across the sky. Eventually, clouds rolled across the ceiling, and we went inside and crashed again.

The next day, we drove looking for breakfast in Cripple Creek, but there was a huge bike rally in town for the weekend, and the streets were packed. Instead, we found our way to another, smaller town, and had lunch there. At a small dollar store, we picked up water guns. We went back to the campground and showered. The facilities were nice, to be sure. Led and I loaded up the water guns and went again to the forest's edge, this time intent on finding a trail. We were armed and ready for anything. We sprayed a giant anthill at the edge of the forest, then went back to camp to drop off the empty guns, then back to the forest to hike. We went up the slope toward Trachyte Knob for quite a ways, getting maybe two-thirds of the way up before heading back before the sun set. The view from almost-the-top was very pretty. We saw the ugly mountains to the southwest that were stripped for mining, and the gorgeous valley below us with the lake and stream, and the tiny campground we were staying at, and the mountains off to the northwest.

We arrived back at camp, and Wolf was still there. He started a fire, and it was the best perfect fire. The coals were hot and the logs burning just fine, and the steaks he cooked up over them were tremendously delicious. Wolf and I were using our own pocket knives, and Led was using a plastic flatware knife. He was so adamant on finishing his steak with his own flimsy knife. I brought out the peach/ Disaronno/ raspberry honey jars I had mixed up. I poured some cups for Wolf and I, and we mixed it with cranberry juice. Quite tasty. We broke out the smores ingredients and roasted some desert. The outside of the mallow peels off and the inside is like pudding. Maybe it was that the marshmallows were so big, but, mmmm, I forgot how good they are. Later, as we sat around the campfire, Wolf led us through a sort of ritual. Three slices of paper, various things listed on each. The slice on which we listed things we disliked about ourselves, we burned in the campfire, to destroy. On the piece we listed areas we want to improve, we buried in the ground, to grow. On the last piece, we listed things we never want to forget, memories that would bring comfort in the hardest of times; that piece we each hid in our wallets.

Afterwards, we cleaned up the site and head inside the cabin to crash. We talked more about the game, then crashed. The next morning, we hit the showers, and I discovered that the KOA office sold coffee. Ah, delicious, rich coffee. It was delightful. I bought a postcard for Kail, and returned to the camp. It was time to pack up the site. We all cleared off our beds, put our clothes in our bags, returned food to the coolers, packed up the camp supplies, put all of it into the car, and swept the floors. Soon we were on the road again. We decided to drive the long way home, in favor of the beautiful scenery in the mountains. We stopped for lunch at a small-town coffee shop, called Costello Street Coffee House. The prices were really steep; half a sandwich (a small half, at that) was 5-6 bucks. Whole sandwich was 10 or 11. But the sammies were so fantastically delicious. They were completely worth the price. And the chai tea was good, too. It would be nice if they were closer to home. We left as it started to rain. Led was quiet in the back of the car for a while, but he started to poke my elbow from the back seat. After I bit, I tried smacking his hand as he tried to poke and dodge. It was fun. He drew a knotted cock on my arm. That rising artist, that Led. We drove from the mountains onto a large, open plateau, then down through a valley, following a creek downstream. We stopped to get jerky at a roadside stand. I bought cajun-spiced alligator jerky; it was expensive, but delicious. We also ate rice crispy treats in the car.

On the way back, close to almost out of the mountains, we passed by a Christian summer camp that I attended for a few years. With quite a bit of resentment welling up, I flipped it off. That's one thing on the paper I burnt this weekend; it's going to be hard to burn it out of me, for all the damage it's caused me. But I'm starting. For another post, maybe.

Back in town, we unpacked at Wolf's, hung around a bit, then went our separate ways. Oh, you know what we forgot to do? We didn't play Never Have I Ever!

Every Iteration of Myself

Sincerity
Serenity
   Once past the mold pressed around you
   to see clearly who you are and
   why you're not.
Betray all you are pretending to be;
to find no truth greater than your own pride
look no farther than those you've failed to protect
(but with averted eyes)
        to walk the Roaming Plains alone
find solace or lacking in all you have learned
                                    Reminded
                                     as you carry the
                                         weight of broken shield
but sun will always rise                ahead
and                band of hatch and stud will
hold close your solace and your    greatest
                                                                truth again.