Grouse Hollow Journal for September 27, 2012 by Greg Koelker

On Saturday morning, I went out to free our kenneled alarm clock and get the paper. It was COLD. Brrr! The ground was white, effectively ending the mowing season I think. Meanwhile, Ellen fixed a big breakfast of Burton ring sausage and pancakes with homemade raspberry jam and sorghum molasses (I know - to die for). Our young friend Eli Jackson brought Jax (short for Jackson) out for a lesson in retrieving under the gun. Jax is a German shorthair pup, some five months old. Scout and Jax spent the first half hour racing about the yard and garden playing tag, and rolling each other and nearly taking out the people who should've bought a ticket to the show. Sometimes the dogs would stop and look around with their ears flopped back over their heads in a comic sort of "Say what?" look before one or both would charge and then race away again.

When the pup was sufficiently worn down, I kenneled a very surprised and disappointed Scout, and grabbed my Russian made pellet rifle off the porch. Eli had a throwing dummy with pheasant wings duct taped to the body. The unloaded pellet rifle makes a repeat much like the crack of a .22 rifle when dry fired, so we tried that for a bit. Eli would get Jax's attention, toss the dummy and I would add a loud "bang!" with the rifle. The desired effect is that the dog learns to associate the bang with fun and not fear it. Jax was totally unfazed by the shot, which is a really good sign. We walked down through a brushy pasture and tried Jax in thicker stuff and then had him find a placed dummy a few times. Jax did a great job with the dummy and pellet gun. Back at the ranch, I set up a target and got out my .22 Remington rifle to sight it in. (I loaned the rifle to Jake Sikora to use at the Vernon County Sheriff's Youth Shooting Team last summer. He needed to use open sights, so I took the scope off.) After half-a-dozen shots, it was clear that Jackson is not bothered by gunfire - so far, at least. It was also clear that I needed to shoot a bunch more to get my rifle zeroed back in. Eli said that next week, he'd introduce a shotgun to the repertoire.

One of my favorite times in the fall is the first squirrel hunt. So after Eli and Jax left, and a trip to the dump - Scout's favorite ride, I put my .22 in the front seat of the Ranger, and drove up on the ridge to hunt my favorite squirrel spot, the Oak Stand. El had suggested I take a load of green pumpkins along for the food plot, so I bulldozed my truck into the middle of the field left for wildlife and tossed out the reject jack-o-lanterns. I put on my game vest and loaded the clip into my newly sighted in bolt action rifle. The wind was blowing pretty much out of the north, but would let up once in awhile. The leaves and grasses were moving a lot. When I quietly infiltrated the clearing that is dominated by three ancient oak trees, I found a tree to lean on and wait, listen, and watch.

I have many great and poignant memories of hunting at this particular spot. I got my first bow killed deer, a fork-horn in velvet in 1979 here. Brother-in-law Brian Hauk and a teenaged Paul Proksch helped me find it that night while El stayed home to care for a very unhappy two week old, Benjamin. Times have changed a bit, as I spent some time texting a 34-year old Ben out in Colorado, asking how his last weekend of archery elk was going. While I was texting, a red squirrel appeared and disappeared across the trail from me before I could get my weapon up. The leaves were falling here and there and the sun was doing its best to add some color and light the shaded glade with beams here and there. I noticed Dick Swantz and Tom Claflin's old deer stand, still standing next to a huge old oak. I snapped a shot of it with my smart phone and sent it to Dick. I have hunted in that boma many times, but I fear it may be a derelict now. Eventually, I hunted out to the point of the hill, finally returning to the field edge and relaxed a while longer. Another, or it could have been the same, red squirrel appeared on a tree limb some 20 yards away with that curled up tail, gnawing on a nut pose. I took aim, let my breath out, and squeezed the trigger; the squirrel ran up the tree and then back down and into the woods. There was no sign I had hit him. "Nuts!" The Squirrel Picnic is in a couple of weeks and I'd like to add something to the pot. I should have taken a rest aim I guess; it's back to the target range. Anyway, I enjoyed the time and quiet and the memories.

On Sunday morning, El had a tough choice - go to church or go fishing with me. A short while later, after coffee and some toast, we were on our way to Lake Onalaska. The sun was getting up in the sky by the time we got to the landing. As we were launching the queen, another guy was taking his flatbottom out - not usually a good sign; however, he had a cooler full of huge crappies. He lifted one out to show us. It had to be 14 or 15 inches long. He said, "Yeah, they are biting, but you have to hunt for them." Cool. The Queen's Mercury started on the third pull. We didn't have to go far to see a line of fishermen, so we found a spot in the line and anchored. After some hastily made tackle changes, we were fishing. I got schooled by my better half, 2 to 1 on huge bluegills. We fished small jigs with bits of night crawler on the bottom. Jig 'em and get ready to set the hook. It was fun watching El battle those 8 and 9-inch fighters with her new ultra-light St. Croix rod bent over to the water. I like walleye fishing, bass fishing can be fun, but for me - pound for pound and fight relative to their size, bluegills are the most fun. When we got there, it was plenty cold and the water was like glass, but after an hour or so, the wind came up making it even colder. We caught a few little ones, but I had a 12-inch perch and some of the gills were 9 inches in length. We had a live-well full of good eaters when we had to go. Back at the ranch, I counted 28 gills and 3 ring perch in the live-well. The filets almost filled an ice cream pail!

El had a Horses for Joy board meeting, so I spent some of the afternoon trying to get some little used machine or other to operate: brushcutter, tractor, chainsaw, etc. I listened to the Brewers on the radio - at least they won. I finally used some old chainsaw fuel to get a pile of brush still in our yard from the storms last year to burn. The blaze was amazing and very

satisfying. After it burned down a bit, I chopped up some tomatoes, basil, garlic, and brie cheese for our favorite summer supper of basil, brie, tomatoes over hot pasta with a glass of wine and some hot bread. After that, I sat in a tree stand for a couple of hours Sunday evening with my bow - until I couldn't stand it anymore. There were no squirrels running around, no birds, or any other animals that I perceived except maybe gnats and a few mosquitoes that didn't know we had a hard frost the night before. There will be better nights for that, soon enough.

Until next time, get out - we got an email on Saturday with a subject line that read, "Jambo." It was from our mountain girl Whitney. She and Mark are on safari in Tanzania for a couple of weeks with Intrepid Tours. I want to be them. Mountain man Ben, had his final bow hunt for elk on Saturday, so our kids are having adventures that allow us to live vicariously through them, just like little league I guess. Finally, the Wisconsin Department of Natural Resources is celebrating 40 years of protecting Wisconsin's natural resources this year. So far they have done pretty well, from my perspective anyway; however, I am not totally uninformed, and I realize that no government agency, especially one the regulates something so sensitive as hunting and fishing rules is ever perfect; I know the "d_mned DNR" has upset and angered and P.O.ed many people over the years, but in general, I think their hearts and science has been in the right place for the general good. There have never been more opportunities to hunt and fish and enjoy Wisconsin's outdoors as there are now. Water and air quality have never been better - in my 60 plus years, at least. Wardens and biologists and other DNR employees are generally pleasant and open to questions and discussion. Call their 24-hour help line sometime. The people on the other end are knowledgeable and friendly. They do listen and do work for the betterment and protection of the state. Thanks, to the many hard working Wisconsin DNR employees out there. Enjoy.

Grouse Hollow Journal for September 20, 2012 by Greg Koelker


Colorado 2012 continued:


On Friday morning August 24, El and I met Ben and Mark at the Route 6 Cafe in Avon, Colorado for breakfast.  El and I had said goodbye to our nice condo beforehand.  We all had hungry man breakfasts of coffee and eggs and taters and pancakes and bacon.  After we were stuffed, Mark showed us the nearby offices of his business, Zone Transportation; then he went to work.  El and I spent some time shopping with Ben, who was preparing to go into elk camp the next day; I got a one-day fishing license for $8 at Walmart, for the next day too.  We said our goodbyes at his condo and headed out.


That afternoon El and I drove up the mountains to the highest incorporated city in the United States: Leadville, Colorado.  On the way up the pass, we curled around the ghost town of Gilman, left behind in the 50's.  You can see 1950's cars and small homes left in decay and disrepair with ignored toys and rusting 50's appliances when the mine closed down.  You can only enter by permit, but we saw a photographic display at Leadville a few years ago.  After we found our hotel in Leadville, we drove around town a bit.  The old mining town is a tad run down in places, with small and rustic looking buildings and homes, but that adds to the authenticity I think.   The downtown is rustic old west for sure, with false fronts but with lots of antique shops and touristy restaurants as well as a saloon or two.  One can even go to college at Leadville. At the Colorado Mountain College, students can earn degrees in Outdoor Education and Outdoor Recreation Leadership among other things.  We have visited the National Mining Hall of Fame Museum in Leadville.  It is well worth the few bucks it cost to go through it.  There is so much history there that includes a lot of famous people.   After sight seeing, we stopped at the Safeway for supplies before checking into the Silver King Hotel that afternoon.  Mark and Whitney called on us shortly after we got settled in, and we followed their lead to the White Star campground near the Twin Lakes Reservoir 22 miles away.  The camp was to be the base for a mountain climbing, fundraising expedition the next morning.  We all helped put up a tarp and get the campground ready for all of the crew that would camp and then climb the next day.  Did you ever use folded up duct tape as tent rope?  It works!  The weather was cool and dry, but threatened a shower at times.  Our friend Danielle McNair showed up with her son, four and a half year-old Champ.  He loves Mark - Uncle Mark, that is.  Champ helped Mark make the fire for the evening.  He and I got along okay too.  (Good thing too, since I wasn't climbing, I was "volunteered" to spend the next day with Champ while the others were gone mountain climbing.)  Anyway, the pine tree lined campsite was surrounded by mountain peaks - the perfect setting for the start of an assault on a mountain peak.  That night, we sat around a pine campfire and relaxed, before El and I retreated to our hotel room.  (Keep in mind that my idea of roughing it is a Holiday Inn without a lounge.)


That night, El wasn't feeling well and didn't sleep well and then woke up with a head ache.  I feared she had somehow contracted the Lyme's Disease I had just sort of gotten over.   She took a hot, hot shower, and some sinus pills and we headed out to the camp site.  It was cold.  The car thermometer said 36, and continually flashed ice warnings in the message center.  When we rolled in, there were quite a few more campers than when we left the night before, as well as a number of dogs.  After some coffee and organization, Mark took Ellen and the rest of the gang motored off to the jumping off spot on Mt. La Plata, the fifth highest mountain in Colorado at 14,336 feet.  El has been training all summer to get in shape for the climb.  Good luck, Darlin'.


After most of the crew had left, I settled in with a cup of coffee and a book and prepared to relax until Champ woke up.  That didn't take long.  He came out in his pajamas to answer the call of nature before all of the climbers were off.  Danielle had showed me his cooler full of food and his extra clothes and his books and his games and his fishing pole.  He is a wonderful little guy with a shock of wavy hair with an irresistible smile and eyes any girl would die for.  He has a ready smile and didn't seem shy at all to me, although I had heard that he could be.  I told him to get his sweats and boots back on and to bring his coat.  He came and sat with me for a bit.  Danielle had made him some oatmeal and he ate some of that.  He told me he wanted to build up the fire and have some more S'mores.  "Later," I said.  I read to him a while and we hiked around the camp ground.  We drove down to one of the landings on Twin Lakes Reservoir to check things out.  The water is very low, with a nearly 40-yard bath tub ring around it.  The lakes are usually only separated by two islands, but right now they are land locked apart.  I showed Champ how to skip flat rocks on the water, and he did okay, but lake rocks are rounded and don't make for very good skipping.  We walked along the lake, him asking questions about everything he saw or thought of and me answering the best I could - scary, huh?  The lake water was crystal clear and icy cold.  Champ found a piece of wood with a round hole through it that he surmised was part of a sunken pirate ship.  He said that grape shot had made that hole. (Grape shot?  What the heck are they reading or seeing in preschool?)  Before we were done, we - okay I - was dragging along pieces of the ship left behind by a battle or storm.  After putting the parts of the ship in the car, I showed him how to pick up real trash and we filled my jacket pockets with glass, fishline, bait containers, bottle caps, and bits of plastic.  Man, we both hate litter. 


Back at camp, after a snack, I said I needed a nap and that the most comfortable chair was in our Chevy Malibu rental car.  He agreed to let me relax a while - if he could be in the driver's seat.  He talked quietly and sang and played with the steering wheel while I tried to catch some much needed shut eye - remember I was recovering from Lyme's.  I did sleep too, a bit at least.  I think Champ did as well as he curled up against me for awhile and sat quietly.  I remember being awakened when I felt something on my face.  I was wearing my dark trooper style sun glasses and the something was Champ's finger pushing them slowly up my face.  He explained that he wanted to see if I was really sleeping.  It was time for lunch.  We had to borrow a lighter from a nearby camper, but Champ and I got a happy little fire going by rolling up some cardboard and piling kindling on it.  Champ gathered lots of pine cones and sticks, motivated by the prospect of S'mores for lunch.  He told me I was a much better fire maker than Uncle Mark, who built the fire the day before.  He did a great job of getting his marshmallows just right for smashing in between the graham crackers.   I burned a cheddarwurst, and we had a merry old time while I continued to answer questions about everything.  He called me "grandpa" a couple times as his Uncle Mark said he should.  By the end of the day, he was saying "Uffda" and "Boomshakalaka," two of my favorite expletives.  After lunch we drove back to the lake with fishing gear, and Champ practiced casting and reeling in a jig.  I advised and stay on alert for flying hooks.  We had his cooler with us, and we shared a sandwich and a juice drink on the beach.  Back at camp, we had a fruit snack and played a ladder toss game for a while.  He sat with me while I read some of the Lord of the Rings to him.  He was full of questions and wide-eyed about dragons and orcs and hobbits.  He wanted more S'mores, but I thought he had had enough sugar.  He tossed the ball for one of the dogs that was left behind for a bit.  We went for another walk (to find the runaway dog) and Champ rode his bike for awhile.  He was getting a bit cranky by mid afternoon, but I couldn't get him to just relax a bit with his head down.  Anyway, I do know that when the mountain climbers started pulling back into camp, I was at least as tired as the climbers were. 


Late in the afternoon, Nicole and Logan Timmerman showed up with supper: Moe's Famous Bar-B-Que.  Spicy pulled pork, pork and beans, cole slaw, and more - it don't git no better.  Nicole's little guy, Logan is the happiest little baby I think I have ever seen, giggling and smiling and laughing at any attention.  Nicole's husband, Matt was making the climb.  Matt and Nicole are good friends of Mark and Whitney's and Ben's and came to Cancun for Mark and Whitney's wedding in 2010.  A little while later, when Ellen and Mark rolled in, El was all smiles (and exhaustion) after making the summit.  She said it was really hard at first but Mark encouraged her and waited for her and helped her along.  They had some pictures of the Horses for Joy banner with all of them on the rocky summit.  It was really cold up there I guess.  El said the hike back down was harder than going up.  I am very proud of her, and all of the mountain climbers.  The climb and fundraiser were for a very good cause - helping people with disabilities using horse therapy. I am very proud of all of them, especially my girl and our kids.


Later, we feasted on Moe's sandwiches, beans, coleslaw, plus desserts brought by some of the campers, all washed down with some local brew or lemonade.  As the stars began to make an appearance, El and I said our goodbyes as we had to leave early in the morning to beat the traffic on I-70 in to Denver to catch our flight back to the Twin Cities - we were also both exhausted.  Mark, a professional driver who makes the trip to Denver Airport regularly, feared that all of the tourists that were in the mountains to see the US Cup Pro-Challenge Bike race all week would all be heading for the Denver airport too and there would be long delays.  The signs along the interstate stated as much.  It was hard to go as we won't see our kids until who knows when again. 


The next morning, the kitchen room at the hotel had a crew of very thin athlete types that turned out to be a college cross country team that was training at high altitude - nice bunch of kids.  Our trip to the airport was without incident.  We had to fill up before we returned our car.  Gas AT THE AIRPORT was $3.29 a gallon.  (It was $3.85 here the next day.)  I don't get that.


Until next time, get out -   Congratulations to our old friends and neighbors, Sandy and Wilbert Proksch.  They hit their 50th anniversary this last week.  We have known them since the late 1970's when we bought our Proksch Coulee home.  We deer hunted with them, employed their wonderful daughters as baby sitters, their son helped me find my first bow kill, and farms part of our place today, and they saved our bacon more than once when we had plugged chimneys or needed help that only a farm machine could complete.  Sandy even convinced me to go ahead with my knee replacement surgery a few years ago, by asking, "You are in pain now.  So what are you waiting for?"  I am so glad I did it.  Anyway, best of luck Sandy and Wilbert on the next 50.  Finally, our biggest news (of the decade maybe) is that my better-half retired this last week after 36 years in Chemistry and Automated Testing at Gundersen Lutheran.  She plans to spend more time with her horse and helping out at the Flying Horse and Horses for Joy, as well as more time in her garden, with her flowers, and clearing trails here on the farm, among other activities.  I know she plans to spend more time taking me fishing.  Anyway, Scout and I are very happy for her - and us - as she will be free when we are free to spend a little more time in the boat, ice shack, deer blind, Colorado and Canada and maybe Arizona - or for that matter who knows where, doing who knows what?  I am very happy for you, Darlin'.   Enjoy.

I am building and managing this blog as part of teaching a creative writing class that requires my students to have a blog, so it is modeling.  I think I like it so far.  I will still be sending out a reminder to check out the web address for the blog each time I add to it.  Thanks for following my blog all these years.

Greg

The following journals are from our recent trip to Colorado to visit our kids.

Grouse Hollow Journal for August 30, 2012 by Greg Koelker

(I begin this journal at 33,000 feet somewhere over Nebraska in a Delta jet headed east.)
After two days of fever and sweats and feeling like I had the worst flu ever coupled up with the two worst hangovers of my life with a three flip car rollover tossed in, I finally asked Ellen to take me to the walk-in. Lyme's Disease – for the fourth time. Thank goodness for Doxicycline (sic?). Anyway, two days later we were headed west.
We got our first glimpse of the Rockies just before we touched down in Denver on Monday afternoon. The skies are hazy due to all of the forest fires still burning in the west. We rode the airport train and then the rental car shuttle to the huge Hertz rent-a-car plaza, and after Alberto finished trying to sell us insurance and upsell us to a bigger car for “more power in the mountains,” we were headed west on I-70 in our nearly new Chevrolet Malibu.
The drive west out of Denver is fast and furious at times, but the views are spectacular, high peaks with the interstate slicing through deep canyons and passes with lakes and rushing whitewater in evidence down in the canyons. The rocky walls – thus the name maybe? - reflect sunlight differently at different times of the day, making the drive different all the time. We drove passed little towns like Idaho Springs, Silverthorne, Dillon, Copper, and slightly larger touristy places like Frisco (they are all touristy I guess) where Lake Dillon once again has a huge bathtub ring because of less winter snow and excessive hot weather evaporation. We flew up over Berthoud Pass and we rocketed through the Eisenhower-Johnson Tunnel and soon we were up over Vail Pass headed into the Vail valley and our mountain kids' home.

Instead of getting a hotel or crash on our space poor kids, El rented a condo just off of Highway 6 very near where Ben lives. Interestingly enough our Sunridge condo had the exact same floor plan as Ben's Liftview condo. With a little investigation one can rent a condo for less than a hotel and have a suite-like apartment (we had two bedrooms and baths, complete with thick white robes) with a wood fire place, a nice kitchen and laundry that just adds to the feeling of “home” and home base while staying in another place we think. We were right in the middle of “all the action” in Avon and Beaver Creek anyway.
After seeing all three of our kids that afternoon, Mark and Whitney joined us for dinner that evening at Blue Moose Pizza up in Beaver Creek Village. (Their friend Ben McNair is the manager.) I highly recommend their Winter Pizza! We stopped over at the Dusty Boot where Ben was at work for the evening and had an adult beverage or two with lots of the kids' friends. When we headed down the mountain, it was cold; you could see your breath cold.
On Tuesday morning, after a breakfast of eggs over easy and crunchy hashbrowns with the boys at the Cafe Milano, Ben took us four wheeling up above East Vail. He wanted to show us some places that he hunts in the fall sometimes and where the boys ski and snowboard often. He said that because it had been so dry much of the summer, the wild flowers were less spectacular than in other years; however, the mountainsides were green due to recent rains at least. We bounced and bumped up over some rough stuff, loose shale and boulders and tree roots and puddles and ruts, to get high above the Vail valley. We stopped at a glen like cascade of mountain springwater (the snow melt has been over for a month or more Ben says) surrounded by tall pines and aspen where Ben and Ellen took some photos including a couple time exposures blurring the action falls (You can see them at benkoelkerphoto.com). The altitude (and after effects of Lyme's was doing me in) but the views from the top were outstanding. Ben showed us some cliffs where our boys regularly jump off and/or over from whatever in the deep powder times of winter. It is so comforting to know that when they fly off into that open air, there is “usually” many feet of powder to land in – sarcasm intended. Regardless, the area and views were spectacular with mountains from the Gore Range all around us. On the way back down, Ellen spotted a bear up the hill from us. We scrambled for cameras and Ben got some good shots of what he called a cinnamon black bear. He figured it to be well over 200 pounds. It was a colorful brute that finally wandered off into the alders. We rewarded ourselves with some Moe's Alabama Style BBQ for lunch. “Bama Style” includes pulled pork and sauce on a bun with coleslaw and pickles piled on the top. Anyway, I needed a nap and Ben needed to go shoot his bow as his archery elk season is this weekend. More on our Colorado trip next time.

Until next time – get out: I got my Fall Turkey permit in the mail this week; Eli emailed me some trail cam pictures from Wisconsin this week; I am motivated to get out and shoot my bow this next week now for sure. Enjoy. Grouse Hollow for September 6, 2012 by Greg Koelker


On Wednesday morning we ate breakfast at the Westside with the boys.  Mark recommended the Captain Crunch French toast - which is Texas style French toast that is soaked in a concoction that includes orange juice and buttermilk and then rolled in crushed Captain Crunch.  I should have had half an order, but it was melt in your mouth delicious.


After breakfast the four of us decided to take a drive up to Piney Lake.  Ben predicted we would see something good as he had forgotten to bring his camera.  Out in the boondocks, the guys chose to take Muddy Pass Road - I thought the name was ominous; however, it turned out to be a pretty well-maintained logging road, as there are crews up in the mountains removing the beetle-killed pine logs.  (The guys told us that the loggers do truck the logs to a huge freezer warehouse space and store them at subzero temps for a few weeks, effectively killing the pine beetles, so the logs can be used for lumber.)  We passed piles and piles of logs.  We even saw - in action - one of those machines that grabs the tree, cuts it off, tips it over and strips the branches and then piles the log with others.  Wow, talk about the fur flying!  It was a tad nerve wracking to be so close to so much destructive action. 


Ben stopped us at an opening in the trees high up on a shelf that he said he is promoting as the perfect wedding site for a morning wedding.  The sun rises up over the mountain range in the distance.  We all agreed that the setting would be magical for the right couple for sure.  We took some photos and wandered about a bit and then moved on.  I believe Mark spotted it first - a huge bull moose.  The wide racked critter was feeding on some sort of grass just up the hill from the road, maybe 35 yards away.  Did I say it was huge?  Our first view was from the rear deck so to speak.  I am guessing that the hind quarters were close to 6 feet up.  The antlers were wide and thick with maybe ten or eleven points.  The bull acted as if we weren't there.  Moose hunting permits are rare in Colorado so moose hunters are rare so the moose aren't necessarily fearful.  I suppose this one was used to the loggers going by too.  We watched and marveled on the size of this trophy-sized bearded deer as its work horse sized head bobbed up and down and side to side, until it gracefully slipped away into some brush.  Ben got lots of shots with my smart phone camera - not quite the same as his Canon.  As the pass wound round and round and then down, the vistas from the high points were spectacular with occasional lakes and streams and large meadows.  We startled some cows and calves that the boys said weren't supposed to be this high; however not long after, we crossed a cattle grate on the road that was open to the upper range.  There were plenty of cattle down the mountain as we got closer to Piney Ranch. 


That evening we made dinner together at Mark and Whitney's place.  Whitney and Ellen chopped and seasoned and we had salads, artichoke hors d'oeuvres, and more, while Mark grilled pork tenderloins. 


Thursday was a different sort of day.  The USA Pro Cycling challenge was to finish Stage 4 up in Beaver Creek Village.  El and I picked up Mark in the morning, and after a breakfast of huge scrambled egg burritos at the Eastside restaurant, we visited with the boys' friend Joel.  Joel, a wiry fellow, is a mountain climber.  He told us about a feat that he and a couple other guys were going to attempt in September.  They were going to try to summit 30 - count 'em - 30 Colorado Fourteeners (that's mountains that are 14,000 feet high) in TWO DAYS.  He said their plan was to stash camping gear and supplies in the middle before they started.  When I know more, I'll report on their adventure.  A few minutes later, El, Mark, and I were off to ride the shuttle up to Beaver Creek. 


Up in the village, the kids' friends, Ben and Danielle McNair had set up a Blue Moose Pizza tent on one of the foot-ski bridges that crosses over the road to that the cyclists would pedal under later that day.  The McNairs had bean bag ramps for something to do.  Someone set up a laptop so we had music and could follow the race on NBC TV Sports, and we had lots of good food.  We visited with enthusiasts from England and Japan and even Dallas, Texas.  One guy remarked on my Packer shirt that he had been born in Appleton, but lived most of his life in Dallas and was a Cowboy fan, but his grandson, also a Texan, was a Packer fan -he mumbled something about being dropped on his head as a baby.  Anyway, grandpa and grandson are coming to the December 2 Packer/Viking game at Lambeau.  I told him to watch for us - we're going to celebrate El's sister Lori's birthday with a Burton Packer Bus trip -  I said I'd be the guy in the blaze orange coat with the fur hat. 


The bikers, many Tour de France participants, left from Aspen at 11:30 in the morning with what was described as a "monster climb" and rode over 97 miles up and down over Independence Pass, (most of this stage is above 9,000 feet, so altitude is a huge factor) through Leadville, the highest incorporated city in the US, over the Continental Divide at Tennessee Pass (10, 424 feet), and past the ghost town of Gilman and then down through Minturn into the Vail Valley (7,430 feet) before they begin their final ascent of the day to a nearly 3-mile climb of over a 1,000 vertical feet  into Beaver Creek Village around 3:30.  It was made more exciting in that our kids were with us.  Whitney walked up from the bottom of the mountain to join us for the race.  Ben was with us, but he was taking pictures for a news paper.  There was a carnival atmosphere at the base of the chairlifts in Beaver Creek and we walked through the many bike and food venues, visiting with some of the kids' friends and others.  We tried some free food and looked over the wares of several shirt and equipment merchants.  At one bike shop tent, they had a pile of bike parts under a tarp and were going to hold a bike building contest where the contestants would be allowed to start with the flip of the tarp.  The first one done got to keep the bike.  It started to rain a bit, so we didn't see this unfortunately.  The first rider, Tom Danielson, came through over three minutes ahead of the rest.  (Now consider this, he was not the leader.  The overall time leader, Christian Van De Velde won the race in Denver on Sunday.)


El and I walked back down the mountain afterwards to our condo.  The walk down is beautiful and literally took my breath away - no way I could have walked up.  That evening we were meeting the kids at Bob's Place to watch the Packers and Bengals pre-season game; however, the bartender and waitress apologized because they couldn't get this game - the one almost everyone in the place wanted to watch - on any of their many monitors.  Ellen and I went back to the condo and Whitney joined us for a light supper and whatever other preseason game was on the cable.  (We saw the highlights later when Rogers ran for two TD's.) 


On Friday, we moved to our hotel at Leadville to get ready for the Group Summit Challenge on Saturday.  More on that next time.

Until next time, get out - El and I had fresh bluegill filets with tomatoes and creamed cucumbers for supper Sunday evening.  Nephew Jason and I got a nice mess of bluegills up on Lake Onalaska on Saturday morning, but when the sun got high, the fish disappeared.  We had eggs benedict and bloody marys at the Lakeview afterwards.  Good morning.  Enjoy.