Speaking of Lobster

I've been neglecting this blog like a visit to the dentist. It's not that I don't want to go, just that I'm not sure I'm committed to the work that needs to be done (buh dum dum - did I really just start off a post that way?! Yeah I think I did - must be all the Muppet Show reruns I'm watching - BTW check out this skit from Season1, Ep 1).

In any case, I have been wanting to write about our trip back east for a few weeks now. We had fun visiting and introducing miss M to D's family. She had a great time though a menacing Hurricane stood in the way.

Travel was good considering we were working with a ten month old who just learned the taste of sweet sweet freedom in the form of crawling and cruising. We wondered how we would make it through a 3.5 hour flight but were lucky enough to get a row to ourselves. Some nap time on the middle seat freed me up to watch a cheesy in-flight movie while D worked and all was good in the world (though we heard there was an earthquake in Manhattan and Colorado while we were up in the air). Upon arriving in B-town at 4:15, we busted it to get on the 5:30 Ferry to P-town and couldn't believe our luck when we made it to the Pier with plenty of time to spare. We were on our way to the Cape and couldn't be happier.

With the help of Alan and M, we carved out a few sunny days pre-Irene. It was so fun to experience Provincetown - the cute artistic shops, the tourists, and of course, the food. Alan and M were wonderful to share their space with us so we could enjoy it all. They took us around to their favorite haunts starting with a quick trip to catch the sunset Tuesday night after they retrieved us from the Pier.


The next day we got up and tried to find some proper Portuguese pastries. Then we went to a lighthouse (so east coast). Can you believe they moved this whole lighthouse due to coastal erosion? Can you believe the whole building was originally where that green patch of grass is now.


I have to add some texture...

Miss M got to play with cousin M to her hearts content; not that we had to twist M's arm or anything. They both took to each other like peas and carrots. M will be a great babysitter when she comes out here for college (fingers crossed).


I managed to squeeze in a tiny run to town; one of the best ways to "tour" a place. With my music playing, I had a few sweet moments catching sights I would otherwise never have seen. I peeked in on backyards that were so quaintly decorated with flowers and trees and Adirondack chairs. I imagined late afternoon happy hours and the bugs buzzing at night - what a beautiful life these people must have. I stopped to look at a little art display of pieces with a box below it for people to drop their cash in and then take the piece. I enjoyed the animals carved in to shutters and the texture of shingles covering most of the houses (quite possibly one of my favorite treatments the east coast offers).


I looped back to meet D, miss M, Alan, and M on the beach.


Maddie played in the sand and got in to the ocean for the first time. She loved it. All of it.

Playing in it.
How it felt.
How it tasted.
The water.
The seaweed. (eh not so much...)

One day Alan and M took us on a whale watching tour to the Stellwagon Bank National Sanctuary. It's something they usually do when they visit the Cape. I was excited to see the whales and took some Dramamine so the whole time I didn't feel green. It was a great day with sightings of tales, humpbacks, and birds, as well as a whale who swam next to the boat for a while - by far the best part of a fun morning. M took to the water like a champ. She clearly has stronger sea legs than me; everyday I wonder if she's more like her dad than me.



Each night we went to a new restaurant - all with their own great flair. D and I both choose seafood; delightfully fresh and getting our fill of memories for when we got back in Denver. The last night, Alan took us to Ciro and Sal's. It was a cute little cavernous spot. It was tight and felt aged and, like a lot of places in Boston. The setting sold me and they food followed suit. We walked around to some of the galleries after that and people watched some of the nightlife down. I cursed my short gams and ached for the legs of more than one of the hot drag queens (it kills me when a man has sexier legs than me...and in a more feminine way) - I only wish we took in a show.



The next morning we tried for more pastries and then took the ferry back to Boston.


Part II to come...

Peek-A-Zoo

We went to the Denver Zoo for the first time with Aunt Nancy and Cousin H a week ago. I wasn't sure if miss M would even be in to it but she had a stellar time.


H showed us his favorite spots.

I imagine some day we will be hard pressed to remember this kid smaller than a wagon wheel.

They traveled light, Radio Flyer-style, enjoying the commonality of being strapped in facing each other munching on treats as the crazy views passed by.


We stopped for lunch and watched the carousel spin round and round, the animals parading by us for a change.




And then we went for a ride on a polar bear. H chose the much swifter cheetah.

 

We topped it all off with a train ride (many firsts that day)!

I think we'll be headed back soon since we only saw about a quarter of the whole thing.

Step. Next Step.

Climbing a mountain or trying to climb a mountain is no small feat. There's boldness in trying to do something you're not sure you can achieve; there's outstanding perspective to be gained from new angles.

I forgot what it felt like to climb a Fourteener for the first time: it's certainly challenging both mentally and physically. The path can be hard to locate, boulder fields can be intimidating, and then there's the vertigo that comes from being so high. Unless versed in mountaineering, there's really no way to know what lies ahead; and even if you have a great imagination, you never know what hand the weather will deal you. The first time I did it, I envisioned Castle Peak to be like any other hike I had taken over the course of my life, just somehow more... upward. I almost fell off a mountain that day (but that's a story for another time). This time around, I just wanted to remind myself that I could go out and climb a mountain.


We arrived at the trail head of Mt. Democrat in the dewy chill of the 6 am hour. I was militant about getting moving, more so than I needed to be. We were surrounded by 100s of others aiming to achieve the same goal and not in quite such a rush: a mountain top view for lunch. We set out on the trail, crossing a river rock by rock, passing a lake and approaching the task at hand. A staircase of rocks upward sent messages to our lungs. The sun was rising on the peaks surrounding us and, though were immersed in a trail of people, there was a certain silence to it all. Breathing was hard and loud and created more of a backdrop than the chatter of ants on a hill. Movement was slow; breaks to take in the view were often.


We came to a vantage point where Nancy and Deb decided it was a good place to turn around. First a photo for posterity. We headed upward from there. Our water full, our packs packed. Cairns marked the way, conversation marked the climate. The weather let us be. We passed others; others passed us. The saddle was in our sights.


It was a welcome reprieve and really only the halfway point. Now the elevation gained in a shorter amount of space. Movement grew slower; breath got even more shallow; thoughts got louder. 



A fake summit can be disheartening, especially when you aren't expecting it. There's no way you're going to stop when you reach it, but then again, you really feel like you have given it your all and there's no energy left. Still you push that last piece because you've come to far to turn around. And then you're there: on top of the world with a great view to greet you, a sense of accomplishment, and a sandwich that tastes pretty unbelievable (even if it's PB&J).

It would seem we are alone
but I would guess at least 30 of our closest "friends" were up there when we were.


I started hiking "later" in life and experienced a 14ner for the first time at 25. I can't imagine being 15 and climbing a mountain, which is what my awesome niece has done in this photo. She stuck to it and signed the log like the rest of us; leaving her mark on a mountain top.


This was the first time too for Chris as well, but she's a natural athlete (like me, lol). Given her great shape as of late, I think the reality of the climb surprised her but that's true for anyone. I also believe that's what makes the summit even more enjoyable. So much so, you almost forget you still have to get down the hill.


Downward: knees burn; feet ache; you really just want a beer. The pack is lighter but you're also probably almost out of water and could drink all of it with every rationed sip. The sun is closer than it's ever been before and it's breathing heavy on your neck. You stop and let those headed upward pass. You lend sage advice and throw out support to help lift them up to the top. You curse yourself for looking down. You stop at the saddle again to rest.


From there the slope doesn't seem as unforgiving. There's still a ways to go but you find yourself feeling like you're on a hike again and not in a battle with nature, loose shale, gravity, etc.


You pass things you remember from an earlier hour, which now feels like a lifetime ago. You look back to make sure your achievement is still there; to study what you now know so intimately.


And then you're home.

PF15

Debbie, Amy, Tricia, and Nancy
Summit of Grays Peak, July 2006

I realize this Photo Friday is technically a "three-in-one" but did I mention I'm going to try and climb a mountain this weekend? Well maybe two. The last time I bagged two 14ners was with three of my sisters five years ago. We all summited Grays Peak (14,270') and then Tricia and I went on to summit Torreys (14, 267'). There's nothing like climbing a mountain to make you feel accomplished (a desire I am craving these days). And there's nothing like doing it with your kin. 

Wish us luck tomorrow... I'm more focused on the possibility of a thunderstorm than the state of my lung capacity. Then again, as they say, "Thunder only happens when it's raining." (yes! fist pump)

Step. 
Next step.

I had to include this shot of Gingy because she's just too cute
all tired at the top with her booted foot sticking out like that...
I wish the old girl could come again this time.
The view from the top of Grays Peak.

The Other Side of the World

Snow seems unbelievable right now. It feels like a distant memory that won't be back anytime soon (though I realize it will be here before I know it). I appreciate the transition of seasons but prefer the summer. Still I miss the lightness; the cool, clean promise of a snowfall and the excitement of seeing flakes floating through the sky. It always warms my heart.

I also love this video reminder that while we are smack dab in the middle of summer, somewhere on this small planet of ours others are smack dab in the middle of winter. The too seem to respond with the same magical enthusiasm for the natural occurrence.