Day 2 Post

sucked. Long winded and didn't really go far...

To save you the effort: We woke up drove around a lot. Found some food. Ate it. I almost cut my foot off. Went for a walk. Drove into town...

Sorry for the root canal. I will try to be more selective with what I post. Smiley face.

Day 2

After we let Maggs run a bit, Chad wanted to go to a small restaurant to get some chow. While he went in to put on some big-people pants, we hopped in his 4x4 and took off. We took the back way, winding up into the mountains. The sun was in full effect and the day was already in the 60s. "Snowboarding wasn't going to be on the menu this week." I thought. The higher we went, the ore tense I got. Chad is a very inattentive driver. He's totaled a few cars. Luckily he was the only one in the car each time, so no one got hurt. I was really hoping his perfect "no casualties" record was going to hold up.

We pulled down a dirt side-road and parked in front of a very humble building. The mountain man's version of a greasy spoon. As we walked in the door I took note that there were four tables. Luckily, Chad immediately noticed the big "no credit cards" sign over the register. Chad didn't even sit down before he turned heel and hopped in the Jeep to hit an ATM. He arrived pretty annoyed. The town's only ATM was kaput. The post office up the road didn't have one. You would think that if you owned a business miles away from civilisation that you would keep a close tab on the only source of cash. Or buck up and take credit cards. Oh, well. I apologised that my coffee would go unpaid for. The lady didn't seem bothered.

We hopped in the Jeep and took off toward Estes Park. I had never been there before and didn't know much about the place. We drove a good hour before we crested the hill before Estes Park. It was a very touristy town in a valley. The hotel from The Shining is there. Never knew that. We looked for an ATM (and found one). After we gassed up, took the main road toward where there might be a restaurant. "The Egg House"... looks like a place that might serve breakfasts. We pulled in, sat, ate, paid, and split. Eggs work every time.

Chad spent the majority of the drive and the meal bitching. He let me know how clueless his co-workers were trying to screw him. He let me know about a bunch of legal trouble a recently exed ex had gotten him into. Those two topics were going to be a theme this week.

We headed back to his place and arrived around 1 pm. I wanted to go on a hike and decompress from the stressful conversation. I crossed a small snow-frozen bridge across from the cabin and hit a trail. Did I mention it was sunny, beautiful and cloudless? It was. for the first time of the trip, I was glad I did.

With Maggie in tow, I took a left and hit the ascent. Chad had handed me a walking stick that he had adorned with carvings, leather straps and baubles. It was the type of thing you would expect a dread-locked white girl with political amounts of armpit hair would carry around at a drum circle. (I have seen this.) This squirelly stick was my only weapon against the roving packs of chipmunks that were known to stip a man to the bone in a matter of seconds. I digress. We climbed the mountain a few hundred vertical feet. Maggie and I got separated. I hope the chipmunks didn't get her. I took a minute to look around. There were a few deer tracks in the snow. took a deep breath of the fresh air and headed back down the trail. I called, but Maggie was nowhere. I passed some felled trees and spotted a decent log. I was going to need fuel for the stove if I wanted to sleep well. When I got to the house Maggie was waiting inside the front door. Maggie 1, chipmunks 0. I hollered at Chad for an axe to hack this log to usable pieces. He told me to grab the splitter with the red handle. A splitter is a combination axe and sledge hammer. I went outside and set up for a bit of muscle straining wood splitting. Bam. Solid hit dead center. I was going to really have to lay into this thing to do any damage. I hauled back and really let one swing. Put everything I had into it. except good aim. The splitter hit the log at an angle and glanced to the side, wizzing by my leg. It was a scare. I could have easily put a big vertical gash in my right ankle. We were so high up in the hills... it wouldn't have been pretty. Chad came out right when I was catching my breath. He pulled out a chainsaw and made quick work of my nemesis. All limbs were in tact. Time to go.

We stacked the wood and I grabbed the computer. we were heading into Boulder.

Day 1.5

I woke up the next morning feeling a bit ragged. The cabin Chad lives in gets pretty cold at night. Cold enough that he sleeps in a small loft above the kitchen with a small heater and his dog, Maggie, for a bit of extra warmth. I, on the other hand, was in the center of the room, on a futon under two sleeping bags. And a layer of frost. The pot-belly stove that would normally keep the room warm and one's breath invisible wasn't lit. First thing I am going to do when we get in tonight was light that bad-boy up. Me likey fire. 

After I awoke, I found Chad was up and about. He was on his computer concluding some business and calling in sick. At the time, I thought it a bit of hooky, but later Chad disclosed that he was under the weather. Seems my timing was ill timed.

Sun was up. BEAUTIFUL weather outside. Cold and sunny. 8 a.m.

This was the firsttime I have seen Chad in a good few years. We worked together years ago at TWANG magazine. I worked at a startup and we were dipping our toes into the publishing business. I was the only person in the office that could spell well-enough to pass muster, so we needed a designer to pick up the slack. Chad was brought in by our publisher, Paco Koehn, to be that designer. They went to high school together and it was a good fit. Another rowdy guy among rowdy guys. We hit it off. I was well impressed with is sensibility. He was a much better designer that I. I also liked that he distrusted Paco as much as I did. Eventually Chad was looking for a room mate and I was looking for a room. Soon after I moved in TWANG folded. We went job-hunting and Chad landed a job I was really pining for. I moved out, bitter, and we lost touch. Later down the road, Chad and I made amends, and were hanging out regularly. 

A few facts about Chad:

Fact One: He is a 41-year-old cheerleader for the Denver Nuggets. Not "cheerleader" like Brittney-Spears-backup-dancer cheerleader. He's a cheerleader-that-throws-tiny-women-ten- feet-in-the-air-and-catches-them-by-the-feet "cheerleader." He hold two national titles for "stunting." Impressive for a 25-year-old. Really impressive for a 41-year-old.

Fact Two: Chad is a BIG renaissance fair nerd. He travels all over to dress up like a silly girl and talk in a poorly affected English accent. If you were to see Chad as a stranger you might expect him to be into something like that. He has the look of a bad '80s fantasy movie barbarian. Think Beast Master. Yep.

Fact Three: Chad is a sincerely nice guy. He has gone through a lot of trouble since I have known him. He once refurbished a 1970 Sting Ray Corvette Convertible and totaled it on it's maiden voyage (he was cut off and hit a retaining wall. Chad could have easily died.). The car wasn't insured yet and was a total loss, save the new top and the rear wheels. Chad laughed it off.

Fact Four: Chad does exactly what Chad wants to do. He moved to Colorado to live in the Mountains "because I want to live in the mountains." I admire that. Chad is into Ren Fairs "because it's fun." He couldn't care less what other folks think.

I got up and shook off the frost. Chad was on the phone in the kitchen. He was on the phone with his girlfriend. She was in when I showed up, but split before I woke up. I felt bad for a second. She was sick with what Chad had just gotten over and didn't feel sociable. After Chad gave her a courtesy call we went outside to let Maggs stretch her legs a bit.

Chad is a stocky guy. I think he once told me that Notre Dame was pegging him for their Offensive line out of high school. Chad passed on their offers "because I didn't want to be jock." Chad is the definition of a jock, by appearance anyway. The dude is as stocky as a person could be without ending up in front of a Senate panel investigating steroids. To add to the picture, Chad has been growing out his hair since he moved up to Boulder five years ago. His hair was clear down to the middle of his back. Chad is also sporting a weird Abe Lincoln come Backstreet boys beard. And somewhere in the last five years, Chad's neck disappeared. To say that Chad is very much an "individual" is stating the obvious. Put a kilt on him and it's hilarious. Chad. Heh heh heh.

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The ground had a nice three-inch layer of snow. This was a fact I missed since I came in via moonlight. The air bit as well. The light cloud cover was already burning off.