Colorado Mountain Living Outdoor Adventures Romance & Relationships The Rockies: Colorado Mountain Living Outdoor Adventures Romance & Relationships The Rockies
by maribeth
Comments Off on Rafting and Roughing It on the Black Canyon of the Gunnison: Part Four
Rafting and Roughing It on the Black Canyon of the Gunnison: Part Four
My Happy River Companions: Steve, Jen, Andrew, Ryan and Glenn
Only a handful of experiences in life—at least ones that occur over a forty-eight hour period—may be considered transformative. The below is part four of one of mine. My journey on the Gunnison River gripped me with so much passion and awe that I’ve chosen to share it with you in its unabbreviated version. I’ve posted this story in four parts. I hope you’ll be with me and enjoy it throughout. You can read all parts in (reverse) sequence in the category Outdoor Adventures.
From Smith Fork on, the waters flattened out some three miles to the take-out. The canyon opens wide to pink sandstone walls here, a gentle float that doesn’t require the wearing of life preservers or much attention paid toward the river’s movements. Now it was time for us all to just loll about on the raft. We looked back at Ryan in the gear boat, no longer worried that he’d make it through the turbulent waters without a hitch; he rowed along calmly just like us. By now we had all downshifted into supreme relax mode, the kind of lulling feeling you have after having gone through something fairly intense and completely stimulating.
The Dudes
Talk of showers was beginning by now although I believe it was Jen who initiated it first. I quietly scoffed at the idea of using a blow dryer. I had been transformed in less than forty-eight hours. My skin glowed with a golden, bronze-y tone and although I hadn’t bathed much, the river kept me feeling cool and fresh. I even forgot about my grey hairs and was actually beginning to enjoy “peeing in the woods.” But it was the canyon walls, the bobbing in the raft and the riverside meals I had enjoyed the most. I also had become very endeared to my fellow campers and guides and felt delighted that we had all shared such conviviality and affection toward each other in such an inspiring setting. Camping and rafting do bring you better in touch with nature and your fellow man. And certainly one of the best places to do it is in the Black Canyon of the Gunnison River.
Epilogue
I experienced the above adventure just over a year ago and wrote most of the story shortly thereafter. Steve, Glenn, Jen and I returned a month ago for a second time around. This time Jen’s slightly younger brother Andrew (who happens to work for Martha Stewart!), flew in from New York to join us. Ryan headed up the journey as lead guide. Rick had left Black Canyon Anglers during the year to start a new life in environmental work in the Pacific Northwest. Josh, another expert river runner and most affable guy, teamed up with Ryan as the second guide. Josh has been “riding rivers” for years in addition to working his day job as a realtor. We came to know Ryan better on this trip and enjoyed goofing around with him and Josh, both on the water and off: Although forever professional, both approached most of our doings with a more laid back attitude, setting the tone for a more relaxed trip overall. With the two of them, we even got into some kid-like shenanigans such as jumping off cliffs into the river, something that Rick surely would have discouraged.
Our Big Kid Ryan
Ryan and Josh
Josh Manning the Gear Boat, the Heavier Raft
Andrew complemented our cozy, already formed group very well. And in the end, it was he who furnished us with the best camping poop story of all. Indeed our fascination with the groover continued and this time around, we went so far as to ask the guys who’s job it was to take care of it upon return to the lodge. (Like all duties, they share that one with the same whoever-gets-to-it-first attitude that’s applied to the rest of the numerous river trip chores.)
So how was it for me second time around? Totally awesome, once again. I rarely do the same trip twice unless it’s to Paris or to ski in T-ride, but this one is truly super special. I didn’t feel the same sense of wonder I felt first time around since I was no longer a virgin rafter/camper on the Gunnison River. But it still felt extraordinary to me and this time I had the added sensation of “coming home.” It has definitely helped me to be less of a Parisian princess as well. This time I experienced less separation anxiety over my dry bag being tossed in the gear boat, but then again I got smart and brought a mini dry bag as a “purse.” (No one snickered about this either since most everyone asked me to hold something of theirs in my little ditty bag as we traveled along the river.) This time I had my hair colored shortly before the trip (hence, no need for mascara touch ups) but I did experience a big breakthrough in not looking at myself in a mirror at any time during the trip. I actually had forgotten my compact—but I’ll take kudos whenever possible.
Moi, au Naturel!
Jen asked me halfway through this last trip if I was coming back next year, an almost inconceivable thought since I rarely do any travels twice, let alone three times. I’m thinking about it though since experiencing this stunningly beautiful remote wilderness location with the expertise of two top-notch guides and a fun group of fellow campers makes for a most memorable getaway. Next time though I’ll be sure to outfit myself with a good pair of river shoes (first time around it was sneakers, then this time Teva flip flops—what am I thinking?) Progress has been made though since this last time I hardly thought twice about an eventual scorpion in my tent and actually didn’t ponder the pygmy rattlesnake once. And peeing outside beneath the stars appeared almost romantic. Wow, maybe I should go again. Am I becoming more Rocky Mountain girl than Parisian sophisticate? Whoah, whoah, not so fast, my dear.
Black Canyon Anglers, 970-835-5050, BlackCanyonAnglers.com
River trips are typically conducted May through early October; float trips tend to be best from July on. Day trips are also possible.
Black Canyon of the Gunnison National Park, 970-641-2337
Black Canyon of the Gunnison National Park
This part of the Black Canyon, just outside of Montrose is the widest, tallest and perhaps the most awe-inspiring. (Experienced riders and rafters run the lower canyon in the Gunnison Gorge National Conservation Area as we did.) Open year-round, the Visitor Center here is an excellent place to begin your visit to this relatively little-known National Park. Then drive the South Rim Road to various lookout points where you’ll find great places to hike and picnic. I’ll be writing more about the Black Canyon of the Gunnison National Park in the not-too-distant future.
“Our surroundings were of the wildest possible description. The roar of the water…was constantly in our ears, and the walls of the canyon, towering half mile in height above us, were seemingly vertical. Occasionally a rock would fall from one side or the other, with a roar and crash, exploding like a ton of dynamite when it struck bottom, making us think our last day had come.”
Abraham Lincoln Fellow, 1901
In 1901 Abraham Lincoln Fellows and William Torrence floated the Gunnison River (named in honor of Captain John W. Gunnison who lead an expedition here in 1873-74, but bypassed the gorge in search of a river crossing). They traveled thirty-three miles on a rubber mattress in nine days and determined that construction of an irrigation tunnel was feasible. Despite a handful of installations, the Black Canyon of the Gunnison has remained amazingly unspoiled today. A true gem of southwestern Colorado, a wonder of the United States.
Latest dispatch from Josh ten days after our last trip:
There was a tremendous storm that hit the Gunnison Gorge last Thursday. Several of the washes turned into torrents of water and boulders. Caddis Camp, where we stayed the night, is no longer a camping spot. Alll the sand was washed away and it is now a pile of debris and rocks. You have to respect mother nature!
Thank you to the Black Canyon of the Gunnison National Park for the above image.
Colorado Mountain Living Outdoor Adventures Romance & Relationships The Rockies: Colorado Mountain Living Outdoor Adventures Romance & Relationships The Rockies
by maribeth
Comments Off on Rafting and Roughing It on the Black Canyon of the Gunnison: Part Three
Rafting and Roughing It on the Black Canyon of the Gunnison: Part Three
Day Two: The Bigger Rapids Day
Only a handful of experiences in life—at least ones that occur over a forty-eight hour period—may be considered transformative. The below is part three of one of mine. My journey on the Gunnison River gripped me with so much passion and awe that I’ve chosen to share it with you in its unabbreviated version. I’m posting this story in four parts. I hope you’ll be with me and enjoy it throughout. You can read all parts in (reverse) sequence in the category Outdoor Adventures.
The cowboy coffee tasted all the more delicious the next morning, grounds and all. I relished this in my tin cup along with a plate of blueberry pancakes and ham as well as a slice of chocolate cake from the night before while gazing out onto the shimmering Gunnison.
This being morning, talk of “the groover” increased tenfold. I had already been cautioned that use of the groover was technically mostly reserved for Number Two. (Just like everything else, the groover was also pack in/pack out. Wow.) “Why do you call it the groover?” I ventured.
Colorado Mountain Living Outdoor Adventures Romance & Relationships The Rockies: Colorado Mountain Living Outdoor Adventures Romance & Relationships The Rockies
by maribeth
Comments Off on Rafting and Roughing It on the Black Canyon of the Gunnison: Part Two
Rafting and Roughing It on the Black Canyon of the Gunnison: Part Two
The Blackened Walls of the Black Canyon
Only a handful of experiences in life—at least ones that occur over a forty-eight hour period—may be considered transformative. The below is part two of one of mine. My journey on the Gunnison River gripped me with so much passion and awe that I’ve chosen to share it with you in its unabbreviated version. I’m posting this story in four parts. I hope you’ll be with me and enjoy it throughout. You can read all parts in (reverse) sequence in the category Outdoor Adventures.
The steep walls of the canyon towered over us. Rick explained that the Black Canyon of the Gunnison got its name from the blackness of the canyon walls, a darkness that’s largely attributed to the depth and narrowness of the canyon. Indeed the shadows cast on the steep canyon walls at times appear foreboding. Yet the crystal-clear waters that splice through this impressive channel were already providing ample sunny moments for me, especially from my vantage point perched high up on the edge of the raft. We felt instantly in awe of the raw beauty and remoteness of this site, one of the jewels of the BLM’s (Bureau of Land Management) system. Rick talked about how the canyon is managed for wildlife; the preservation of the solitude and wilderness of the Black Canyon of the Gunnison is well guarded. Only twenty-four people are allowed to enter the canyon on commercial boats per day and only twenty-three camping sites are provided for hikers and boaters. And many of those sites go unclaimed since it requires such an effort to hike down into the canyon. (Imagine schlepping all your gear down yourself!)
We felt like kids floating along the river, laughing and shrieking as the whitewater splashed and tossed us about. We drifted a little farther and stopped to have lunch beneath a perfectly-shaped shade tree where Ryan had rowed ahead and set up a camp table and chairs. This is how it would be for the next two days: We’d paddle along and then stop at some idyllic place to for lunch, dinner and an overnight and breakfast and then lunch again until finally the trip would come to a close. The guys rowed and navigated the river with the utmost of expertise. They knew every rock, every dip, every rapid, every possible quirk of the river for every season. (This all changed greatly, of course, from early spring to late fall depending on the flow of the mighty Gunnison.)
Thank Goodness for the Oarsmen!
We were called upon to paddle throughout much of the trip, a welcome assignment that prevented us from feeling like bobbing blobs in a rubber raft. “One forward, and then another forward, now back one,” Rick yelled, as we helped him to propel the boat along, especially through the tight spots that bore names such as Upper Pucker, Lower Pucker, Buckaroo and Zig Zag. Our seemingly indestructible boat—an extraordinary invention born out of World War II combat—bounded and bounced its way along the churned up river, squeezing through sections no bigger than the boat’s width, only to plunge safely into calm water where we all laughed and breathed great sighs of relief. I received a big splash on Buttermilk, screamed and heard Rick say “that was your baptism.” Rafting season was officially on for all of us landlubbers aboard.
A whole other adventure began when we pulled up to the shore of our designated campsite, Ute 2 in Ute Park, the widest and most shallow part of the Gunnison where the Ute Indians supposedly crossed the river back in the day. Here we settled in for the remainder of our day and night. Rick and Ryan teamed up to unload every last cooler and dry bag from the boats. Steve grabbed our bags, claimed a site and proceeded to set up our tent. Meanwhile the guys installed a full kitchen at the heart of camp, complete with prep table, dishwashing station and gas stove (no campfires allowed in the canyon since little wood is available for scavenging). In front of this chuck wagon tableau, our ever-so efficient guides installed another camp table for dining and dressed it with a blue-and-white checked tablecloth. Later on we’d use a jumble of blue-and-white enamel painted tin cups and plates as our table settings. Martha Stewart eat your heart out. Few people in the world have experienced such a homey table in such a dramatic setting.
I smoothed down our sleeping bags and emptied the last of my belongings from my bottomless dry bag and felt delightfully settled into our new digs. “It seems like you spend a lot of time moving stuff around when camping,” I exclaimed to Steve.
“Yeah, that’s what it’s all about,” he responded. “I guess that’s why they call it camping. Nothing’s permanent.”
By now Jen was calling to see if we wanted to venture out onto a hike, an expedition that would take us way up to the canyon rim where we were guaranteed even more spectacular views. (How much striking scenery could one take in in two days?) Glenn decided to stay back to read as did Ryan since he had some cooking to do. Steve, Jen, Rick and I bounded off with all the enthusiasm of scouts hitting the trail. It was close to four by now, but still I swayed beneath the sweltering, summer sun.
Vision Quest Vision: Perhaps a Totem?
After nearly an hour of hiking I gave up and told the others to go on without me. I had the choice of heading back to camp or sitting at the top of a rise and waiting for them until they headed back down. I chose the latter, a personal experiment of sorts since I had absolutely nothing to do but sit on the rocks and take in the glorious nature that surrounded me. I didn’t read or write or even pay much attention to the thoughts that, of course, occasionally swirled in my head. It was as though I had decided to conduct my own Vision Quest, a personal challenge to myself to see how well I’d fare out in the middle of a rugged land with no sign of civilization anywhere to be seen. Thoughts of the pygmy rattlers popped into my mind a few times, then I chased them away. And of course I felt startled from time to time by a crackling noise behind me but still, I brushed it off, imagining that it was just a harmless little mouse scurrying about in this arid land. The others returned soon enough although I learned that more than an hour had actually passed. We all felt content with our accomplishments and trekked back down to camp, hungry and thirsty but beaming with contentment about having communed with nature in such an exceptional setting.
I sponged myself off with a moist towelette (how French!), changed into warmer, dryer clothes and padded off to the “kitchen area” where I marveled once again at the set up. Ryan seemed to have everything in control at the cook’s station where he had placed a huge pot of water to boil on the portable stove next to a heavy cast iron skillet. Not wanting to bother the master at work, I filled my water bottle with fresh river water that had passed through the gravity water filter hanging from the tree and joined the others at the camp table facing the river. We swilled beers and munched on shrimp quesadillas as the sun slowly slipped behind the high canyon walls.
Cook’s Prep Area: BCA Style
Ryan, a real cutie that had it not been for his quiet charm and boy-next-door good looks, would have been over-shadowed by Rick’s presence as lead guide, served up a dinner worthy of three-star glamping (glamour + camping). His guiding experience in Alaska bequeathed him with numerous talents, most notably (at least to us that evening) how to cook salmon. He served up the most exquisite piece of fish, perfectly moist, delicately flavored with hints of lemon and orange and dressed with juicy, ripe mango. Pesto pasta and green beans accompanied this fine dish that we all savored as the sky turned battleship grey and the light drained out of the canyon.
In perhaps an effort not to be outdone, Rick whipped up a cake, poured it into a dutch oven, placed coals on top of it and left it to bake as we finished off the last morsels of our meal. Just as night had completely fallen, Rick proclaimed that the cake was done and then turned it out onto a large tin plate with great fanfare. He had succeeded at capturing our attention since we all marveled at his German chocolate upside down cake, topped with carmelized pears and walnuts, a true sensation, especially since it had emerged from the campfire.
Completely satiated from the day and such an outstanding meal, we kicked back and took in the shadowy sights and incessant rushing water sounds of the Black Canyon of the Gunnison. I found it somewhat odd that a lantern or some other sort of camp light was not illuminated by now, but I didn’t ask why. The reasons seemed fairly obvious: I was in the midst of “a real camping trip” and “real campers” don’t use wimpy lights. Just like the ancients, they were guided by the light of the stars.
By now Rick and Ryan had cleaned up the camp kitchen and lead us to the river’s edge to better take in the glistening glow of the night’s sky. Rick, an expert river guide with BCA for over sixteen years, began to point out the constellations, offering up a little dissertation on each one. Far from city lights or even from the visual interference cast from a small town, we all marveled at the luminosity and wonder of the stars and how little we knew about these celestial points of reference. How greatly our lives had changed from those of our ancestors. Still though, we were adapting nicely: No one seemed to miss their cell phone or their remote. Hey, after a week out here, we’d surely find ourselves looking up at the sky more than ever before.
Yawns set in, Ryan and Rick ambled off to claim their private sleeping spots beneath the stars while the rest of us headed to our tents. I took two Tylenol PM along with another special pain reliever, all with the hope that I wouldn’t have to wake up during the night to pee.
Steve and I slept in until nine, a seemingly ungodly hour for campers but the wee hours of the morning had been restless. (The near-numbing sounds of raging water, crickets and other unidentified odd noises created a soundtrack to nature that proved to be unsettling to neophytes like me.) And yes, I still stepped out of the tent countless times to pee, scared to death during each and every squat.
Thank you to Ryan Gluek and Rigs Fly Shop & Guide Service (another company that specializes in river trips on the Gunnison) for the above images.
Art & Culture Colorado Four Corners Hotels & Lodging Podcasts The Rockies: Art & Culture Colorado Four Corners Hotels & Lodging Podcasts The Rockies
by maribeth
Comments Off on Durango, the San Juan Skyway and the Western Movie Culture of the Four Corners Region According to Fred Wildfang
Durango, the San Juan Skyway and the Western Movie Culture of the Four Corners Region According to Fred Wildfang
The Marquee-Lined Hallway of The Rochester Hotel, the Hollywood of the Rockies
Writer and historian Frederic B. Wildfang has made Durango and the outlying area his passion for nearly two decades. Author of a handful of books about this colorful corner of southwestern Colorado, Fred clearly loves the San Juans, the most striking mountain range of the Rockies. “It’s an interesting area historically and scenically,” Fred says in a recent Travel Fun interview. And certainly its geological richness has left an indelible mark on the region from mining and ranching to tourism and western-movie making and much more.
Preserving Durango's Heritage: Fred Wildfang and Family
As for Durango, a dynamic town where Fred lives and works, Fred feels it’s a very friendly place filled with a great mix of the old and the new from weather-worn cowboys to fresh-faced outdoor enthusiasts from the nearby college. He hikes everyday in the Weminuche Wilderness, the largest road-less area in Colorado, which lies just outside his door. Fred also loves to use Durango as a base for visiting other great western destinations such as Creede, Colorado and Lake Powell, Utah. In his most recent book, “Images of America: The San Juan Skyway,” Fred features this unbelievably scenic 236-mile loop that wends through glacial valleys and over high ice-sculpted peaks, traversing the old mining towns of Silverton, Ouray, Telluride and Durango. It’s one of the most renowned drives in America and one that you’ll want to take with Fred’s book in hand.
With such spectacular scenery and a wealth of remnants from the Old West, it’s no wonder so many western movies were filmed in the Four Corners area. Fred’s wife, Diane, and her son, Kirk, took over The Rochester Hotel, an historic hotel in Durango a number of years ago and renovated it to a heartwarming place to stay, one of my favorites in this fun-loving western town. A must-see tribute to the history of western movie making in the region, the rooms and hallways of this cozy enclave showcase western movie memorabilia from Fred’s collection. Each of the rooms is named after the movies filmed in and around the San Juans, beginning with “A Ticket to Tomahawk,” a western classic made in 1949 starring Marilyn Monroe. Fred talks about this movie and others in our interview. You’ll discover that most of the westerns were filmed in the fifties and many boast a connection with the Durango & Silverton Narrow Gauge Railway, a national treasure that provides reason enough to travel to Durango.
Click on the play button below to hear my interview with Frederic Wildfang.
The Rochester Hotel, 721 East Second Avenue, 970-385-1920 or 800-664-1920, RochesterHotel.com
The Rochester Courtyard with an Old Rail Car
Book Picks
In addition to “Images of America: The San Juan Skyway,” mentioned above, if you’re going to Durango, you’ll also enjoy “Images of America: Durango,” authored by Frederic B. Wildfang as well. Go to ArcadiaPublishing.com to find out about these books and more.
Colorado Mountain Living Outdoor Adventures Romance & Relationships The Rockies: Colorado Mountain Living Outdoor Adventures Romance & Relationships The Rockies
by maribeth
Comments Off on Rafting and Roughing It on the Black Canyon of the Gunnison: Part One
Rafting and Roughing It on the Black Canyon of the Gunnison: Part One
Black Canyon of the Gunnison River
Only a handful of experiences in life—at least ones that occur over a forty-eight hour period—may be considered transformative. The below is one of mine. My journey on the Gunnison River gripped me with so much passion and awe that I’ve chosen to share it with you in its unabbreviated version. I’m posting this story in four parts. I hope you’ll be with me and enjoy it throughout.
I looked in the mirror and dabbed mascara onto my remaining lashes. I peered at myself and sighed about how much grey belied my younger-than-my-years appearance. Oh, what the heck, I thought. I carefully pulled the mascara wand through the patches of grey at my temples and along my hairline right at my part. I knew this was chance-y. Tomorrow I’d be on the river and I’d surely look ghastly with streaks of brownish-black running down the side of my face. Too bad I didn’t have waterproof mascara. Too bad I hadn’t had time to have my hair colored before it got this bad. Too bad I had to pack vanity along with me on a wilderness adventure.
Beauty Colorado Fashion & Style Girl Talk Mountain Living Shopping Telluride The Rockies: Beauty Colorado Fashion & Style Girl Talk Mountain Living Shopping Telluride The Rockies
by maribeth
Comments Off on Mountain Glam
Mountain Glam
Rita Styling a Queen B
We’re in the throes of monsoon season right now and this year the rains seem to be bigger than ever. The sun shines brightly most mornings but the clouds move in in the afternoon and when that happens, you better be back from your hike by then. Or else, ka boom!
Yes, most do hike or bike here in Colorado, visitors included. And in the winter we ski. It really is all about the great outdoors. Don’t you know that Coloradans are the fittest people in the country?
But don’t let all this outdoor life fool you. Many of the women here—especially in our smart mountain towns—are incredibly sophisticated and know how to pull off casual chic with (seemingly) the utmost of ease. Like in France, the look here is totally au naturel. The trick, however, is that it takes just the right approach to achieve a fresh-faced natural look, especially when the air is so dry that crevices as big as a mountain ravine can easily form on your face. As for hair, you need to find a cut that accommodates limp and lifeless because without much humidity, you can bet your coif isn’t going to boast much bounce.
And how do you feel about hat hair? Now, that’s clearly a place French women don’t want to go. No matter how cold it is outside, most French women (actually men, too) don’t dare mess up their hairstyles by wearing a hat, especially a snug-fitting knit one, pretty much the only type that will truly keep you warm. Stylish chapeaux are still quite acceptable yet few of them provide any real warmth. Here in Colorado we suffer from hat hair practically year-round. (It’s not unusual to wear a down jacket and a knit hat on a summer’s night. Few sundresses and sandals after sundown unless you pile on a plush fleece.)
We could easily look like a bunch of tired, flat-haired mountain women if we didn’t learn how to combat the elements with our best defense: a good hair cut and color and dewy makeup. Like everyone else, I sometimes get stuck in a rut and find myself doing my hair and makeup pretty much the same way I’ve done it for decades. This is why I occasionally mix it up, try a different stylist and then even have my makeup professionally applied, all out of necessity and fun.
I was carried through the winter by a color and cut I received from Kat at The Peaks Resort & Spa Salon here in Telluride. She deftly cut my short to mid-length hair in cascading layers so that it would fluff around my face, hat on or off. We went dark with the color since my hair gets so bleached out on the slopes in the winter. (You want to be sure to have nice tufts of hair sticking out of your hat to frame your face, but boy do they get damaged.)
We completed my re-do with a makeup application that as Kat said, “Looked as though we had made unnoticeable efforts toward beauty.” Truly I glowed and I was not surprised to learn that the Jane Iredale makeup she used is entirely mineral based since it made my skin feel silky smooth. It also rendered my face nearly flawless! This makeup redefines the expression “keep it simple” since it’s a foundation, concealer, powder and sunscreen all in one. Quench and sunscreen? That’s pretty hard to find, particularly in a palette of such natural colors. What a great high altitude brand.
Jane Iredale's Earthy Tones
Almost unbelievably, that cut and color carried me through until the end of ski season when I finally paid a visit to Queen B Salon in Aspen. With the motto “Every Woman a Queen,” I felt right at home. Rita, the owner, an attractive woman of un certain age, has undoubtedly seen a few queen bees in the forty-five years she’s been doing hair. But why not indulge us? And here, amongst an extraordinary collection of tiaras, beauteous baubles and other fun girly goods, that’s exactly what Rita does. Plus she knows how to do hair. She gave me a color and cut that got rid of my chewed up ends from ski season and transformed me into a more style-y babe. She decided to go with an edgy look, flat ironed my hair and smoothed out the ends with oil. (Now that’s a woman who knows the challenges of a dry climate.) I bought my first flat iron here and chuckled to myself that I can get this effect by donning a ski cap for an hour although unfortunately that doesn’t guarantee even flat distribution from end to end.
“Any particular look right now in Aspen?” I asked Rita.
“Most women have long hair,” she responded. “Blond. It gets really boring.”
I looked around the room and spotted a supply of hair extensions, hair pieces and clips. Rita explained that all the add-ons were made of natural hair of the finest quality. Mostly blond of course. I’m an anomaly here in the Rockies, I suppose.
“The problem with American men is that they’re so attached to long hair. They want all their women to look like cheerleaders,” Rita continued.
Clearly I had become Europeanized with my brunette bob.
I doubt her complaints were heartfelt though since this so-called ingenue look surely keeps her business churning. I began to think of all the highlights and hair extensions required to achieve that natural, outdoorsy look so prized in the mountains. Add to that the already excessive need for conditioning treatments and a variety of other potions and formulas, and you begin to understand that it takes beaucoup bucks to become naturally beautiful in the Rockies.
Next stop: The Cos Bar, the place to shop for makeup and beauty products in Aspen. It’s perhaps the best place in Colorado. Located in some thirteen chichi destinations across the U.S., Cos Bar actually originated in Aspen in 1976. Indeed this glam emporium reminds me of the many high-styled parfumeries you find throughout France where you can pick up everything from a bottle of Chanel No. 5 to a tube of Dior lipstick.
I settled in for a full makeup application. (Typically the girls here only make you up partially, let’s say to try out a particular look on your eyes. But I asked for the works. Hey, it was almost off season.) I walked out with a luscious, lightly made up look. For best results, pick up a Laura Mercier tinted moisturizer, one of Cos Bar’s bestsellers, Aspenites’ secret weapon that comes in eight shades. If you’re looking for a more striking look for evening, you’ll also find it here since the ladies in this town get pretty dolled up once the sun goes down.
So here I am now, back in my living room, sitting on my couch with my MacAir on my lap, writing. I still don’t understand why my skin and hair don’t feel softer with all these monsoonal rains. The humidity is at 40%, but I suspect that pales to what saturates the rest of the country these days. My tan is fading so fast that soon I’ll look like a mountain dumpling. I’m contemplating a trip to The Peaks for a spray tan. Like a good mountain spa, they know how to give you a natural summer radiance. I’m also thinking the sales should be pretty good in their Spa Boutique right now. They always have sales actually—on the best of products.
I’ve just realized that I’ve lived good chunks of my life in two lands fairly obsessed with beauty: France and the Rocky Mountains. You wouldn’t guess that of the latter but believe me, looking good is pretty important here. Being tanned and fit is part of the way of life in Colorado. And it’s no secret you must have the right hair and make up to go with this look. If you don’t, you look like a tourist. And no one wants to look like that, even if you are one. Don’t you agree?
The Peaks Resort & Spa, 136 Country Club Drive, Telluride, 800-772-5482, ThePeaksResort.com/spa
Queen B Salon, 112 South Mill Street, Aspen, 970-920-4300, QueenBSalon.com
The Cos Bar, 309 South Galena Street, Aspen, 970-925-6249, CosBar.com
The Peaks Spa Boutique
My number #1 make up tip: Do not wear make up when you’re skiing, hiking, biking or doing anything else in the great Rocky Mountains. If you do, you’ll look completely out-of-place. Tinted moisturizer (and sunscreen) as well as lip gloss on these athletic occasions are more than O.K. If you’re like me, you may want to cheat by leaving your mascara and liner on from the night before. A little smudged eye enhancement not only looks natural, but oh-so sexy, too. We are after all resourceful here in the mountains.
Colorado Mountain Living New York Pot Pourri Skiing & Snowboarding Telluride The Rockies Travel: Mountain Living New York Rockies Skiing & Snowboarding Telluride Travel
by maribeth
Comments Off on March Madness Runs Into April
March Madness Runs Into April
KOTO Street Dance in Telluride: One of Many Mountain Celebrations to Mark the End-of-the-Season
Wow, what a month it has been. It’s been at least that long since I posted a story on this blog. So what have I been doing? Skiing, of course. Mostly teaching skiing actually, nearly every day up until our closing here in Telluride which took place this past Easter Sunday, April 4th. I’m just now beginning to feel alive again. I say almost since I’m still consuming above-average amounts of caffeine but I know more energetic days lie ahead.
I’m much better than I was earlier in the week when I logged endless hours on my couch, too tired to read but content to watch copious amounts of T.V. in between long stretches of sleep. (I think my cats registered more awake time than I these past days.) And dare I take inventory of all my eating? I’ve been devouring the scalloped potatoes and chocolate left over from Easter, and by Tuesday afternoon I found myself whipping up a vanilla milkshake and sucking it down from the indented cushions of my couch faster than Oprah could say “We’ll be right back.” When I began to compulsively channel surf between Dancing with the Stars, CNN and Bravo, I worried that I might never feel normal again. But miraculously my cravings for sugar and fat diminished by Wednesday along with my desire to escape profoundly into the boob tube. Last night I even cracked a book, “Abundance: A Novel of Marie Antoinette,” that I can’t wait to get back to tonight. (I find it impossible to read during ski season when evenings mean either falling asleep by 9 or partying until 11.)
I don’t know how so many people pack it up as soon as the mountain closes. They head to Moab, Mexico and the Islands or embark upon adventures such as a rafting trip on the Salt River. These people must be largely motivated by the thrill of switching out ski boots for flip flops. I guess I’m just a softy. I need to recharge.
Anyone that works in the hospitality industry can tell you that March can be insane in the mountains. As a ski instructor, you have to be ON all the time throughout the sunniest and stormiest days of spring break (which this year lasted most of March right up until Easter). It doesn’t matter if your knees are killing you, your quads burn beyond belief or if you don’t have an ounce of gas left in your tank, it’s our job to spread rainbows and sunshine and to make sure that everyone has the best experience ever.
And what a great end-of-season it was here in T-ride. The snow fell generously and often, right up until the end, interspersed with glorious days of warmth and sun. I taught mostly private ski lessons to a terrific array of clients, some of whom promise to be future guests on Travel Fun. I delighted in teaching Josie, a sweetheart of a thirteen-year old, a first-timer that I worked into almost a complete parallel by the end of two days. Her parents, Kevin and Corinna, own Antlers & Anglers, an exclusive service that arranges hunting and fishing trips to alluring destinations around the world. I’m looking forward to having her dad on the program to talk about big game hunting and more. Perhaps an unusual sort of topic for my show, but certainly very interesting nonetheless. I had a blast with twin six-year olds, Max and Carrie, for a week and through this family, I met novelist Martha McPhee. (I also skied with her son Jasper.) Martha has a new book, “Dear Money,” coming out in June. This work showcases the financial world of New York where Martha lives, so it might be a hoot to have her on Travel Fun to talk about the ins and outs of the Big Apple’s high rolling landscape. I’m sure she can provide a few good restaurant recommendations as well. Martha is the daughter of the prolific nonfiction writer John McPhee and the sister of novelist Jenny McPhee. She’s married to poet Mark Svenvold who, along with Martha and the rest of the crew, enjoyed doing a bunch of nice turns in Telluride during one of our best weeks of March. (In case you’re wondering, Martha and I talked more about skiing than writing.)
My friend Kate Betts, renowned fashion and style editor, was also vacationing in T-ride during this time. We managed to work in a Travel Fun interview together which I’ll soon post here as a podcast. Kate is still a contributing writer for TIME Magazine but we mostly chatted about her recent project, a book about Michelle Obama, entitled “Everyday Icon: Michelle Obama and The Power of Style.” “It’s really about why style matters,” Kate says.
In the midst of all this activity, I was asked to participate in a photo shoot for SKI Magazine, an undertaking that occupied nearly two day’s of my time both on the snow and in Bootdoctors, the Telluride sport specialist that is the focal point of this piece. Bootdoctors has gained great recognition for fixing people’s alignments (and their skiing!) by adjusting their equipment—mainly ski boots—to compensate for their own physiological imperfections. I was selected certainly not for my skiing prowess or on-camera presence but as a prime example of a knock-kneed woman. I shared the shoot with Don Hannah, longtime Telluride resident, fellow KOTO DJ, all around nice guy and brother to Daryl. Don was chosen to represent your average bow-legged man. This was no glamour shoot, especially since I was so caught up with my work that I hadn’t even thought about having a pedicure for the shots (and Internet footage!), many of which focused on an extensive custom boot-fitting for my feet. To think that my gnarly ski instructor feet are to appear rough-hewn and unpolished in a national magazine by next ski season— quel horreur! Don and I were also documented skiing our worst knock-kneed/bow-legged form on Telluride’s fine slopes. Don nailed my sentiments exactly when he said, “I’ve been reading SKI Magazine since I was a kid and now that I finally get to appear in it, I come across looking like a dork.” Oh well, Lindsey Vonn I am not.
So now it’s time to organize my personal space and to pick up my writer’s life. I’m on my tenth load of laundry this week and am chipping away at my e-mails. Fortunately it will be a slow transition since I have a couple of trips planned to Vail and Aspen before the month is out. You can read about some of my post- season adventures from last year at Skiing and Spa-Going: Part One in Vail, Colorado and at Aspen Highlights. I’m looking forward to free skiing and not having to instruct or look out for anyone’s well-being but my own. I bet I’ll miss the silly chairlift games and heartwarming connections though.
This is indeed a funny life, trading off between ski instructing and writing. But as much as it’s a juggling act, I can’t imagine giving it up. There’s nothing like balancing out the mental with the physical, especially when you live inthe Rocky Mountains. I wonder what Marie Antoinette would think.
Note that April is full of end-of-the-season activities at Colorado’s top resorts. Aspen Mountain closes this Sunday, April 11 but will reopen the weekends of April 17-18 and 24-25. Beaver Creek closes this Sunday as well, however Vail’s spring fling kicks into high gear April 12 with their Spring Back to Vail. Search the Internet for lots more great skiing and fun in Colorado through early May. You’ll find some terrific bargains, too. Be sure to pack your costumes and most colorful spring attire!
Skiing Bunnies, Mary Dawn and Michael, Hop on the Quad in T-ride on Easter Sunday
The Crowd Gathers at Gorronno's in Telluride for a Closing Day Concert by Drew Emmitt
Colorado Skiing & Snowboarding Telluride: Colorado Ski School Skiing & Snowboarding Telluride
by maribeth
Comments Off on Ski Instructors in Training: Precision Skiing 201
Ski Instructors in Training: Precision Skiing 201
C.T. in Action
Precision Skiing 201. Wow, even that title is intimidating. This is the name of a PSIA (Professional Ski Instructors of America) Clinic I took this winter. The numbers 201 indicate that it’s part of the training for Level 2 Certification, a distinction of excellence largely achieved by being able to ski and teach perfect parallel turns on a variety of terrain. As for the precision skiing part, nobody is more precise about technique than the ski geeks at PSIA. And since I’m a member of PSIA, I try hard to be as geeky about skiing as the best of them. (It’s rare that a ski instructor has the luxury of mindlessly cruising down the mountain. Instead we’re plagued with contemplating every aspect of our skiing from angulation vs. inclination to whether we’re fore or aft; well, you get the idea.)
Sometimes I shake my head and I still can’t believe I’m a ski instructor. Whenever I sense fear in a student I like to share that it wasn’t until I became a ski instructor that I stopped having butterflies in my belly the first couple of runs of the day. The best way to conquer fear is to face it head on. So now here I was feeling like a kid in school—butterflies and all—in my first PSIA clinic of the season.
I admitted to C. T. (Chris Thomsen), a PSIA examiner, a Telluride ski instructor and our clinician, that I felt somewhat jittery (about what I’m not sure, perhaps the scrutiny of it all). His reassuring smile and warm, friendly approach helped to put me at ease. Already I was grateful ten times over that I was able to take this clinic in Telluride, my home mountain. (For all the others, I had to travel to other destinations within the Rockies.) C.T. took charge of our group of ten ski instructors much like we strive to do in our regular lessons.
After a couple of warm up runs, we launched into a few drills, just the kind of thing we might introduce to our students, depending on what they needed to work on. We began with shuffling through our parallel turns on a blue run. Not only did I feel goofy doing this (and I’m sure I looked just as silly), but it also proved to be a bit of a challenge, especially on the steep pitches. I soon learned that you could only properly do this maneuver when in perfect balance, the holy grail of good skiing.
I was counting on this exuberant burst of energy (as if doing a perfect turn isn’t difficult enough, imagine shuffling through many of them) to warm me up. This brutally cold and snowy day became even harder to endure with every frequent stop. Explanation, instruction and demonstration is typically a huge part of any lesson, particularly a program like today’s. Still, I reminded myself that I was a Professional Ski Instructor of America, part of the hearty core of American society that can endure harsh outdoor elements, all for the betterment of mankind, or at least to improve my skiing and to help others gain the skills that would make a difference in their own on-snow performance.
C.T., a wiry guy of slight build, exuded tremendous enthusiasm and boundless energy. I wondered why he wasn’t getting cold. I felt chilled to the bone and I’m padded with at least five times the amount of body fat as him. But then I admitted to myself that he was more of a professional than me, fully realizing that his task at hand was far more important than frozen toes. Careful to critique everyone’s skiing and demos as they passed, he possessed a remarkable skill for zeroing in on the component that needed to be corrected in order to make a difference in our skiing. Indeed he was blessed with the keen eye of an examiner.
“Tip before you turn,” he called out to me as I completed my own series of dynamic parallel demos. “In modern skiing, you tip your skis on edge and then input rotary,” he explained. “That will give your skis support rather than sliding down the hill.” I found myself thinking “tip and turn” the whole rest of the day.
Just like in a group lesson, C.T. was sure to give us attention both as individuals and as a group, and in turn we supported each other in a similar fashion. Everyone had the same goal: to work on our skiing and to learn how to impart this knowledge to others. The geek factor grew throughout each drill which also included balancing our poles on our wrists as though we were carrying a large tippy tray down the slope and dragging the poles on the snow. The goal was the same for all: establishing a perfectly balanced stance that would enable us to be most efficient in our skiing. As with our students, we found that different things resonated with different people.
At lunch we talked about the PSIA Teaching Model which includes the following format: introduction, determine goals, create lesson plan, present and demonstrate information, check for understanding, practice and review. For kids, it’s play, drill, adventure. There was much talk about the CAP Model which is an acronym for cognitive, affective and physical, stages of development that one must especially keep in mind when teaching children.
Our afternoon consisted of practice on the bumps and an endless array of wedge christie demos, something I found to be onerous on blue terrain. (Skis—especially today’s shaped ones—automatically want to glide into a parallel rather than push into a wedge. If only novice skiers could get this feeling right off, they’d save themselves a lot of effort and soreness.)
C.T. chatted about DIRT which stands for duration, intensity, rate and timing. By now I was feeling like how my students must feel at the end of a full-day lesson: weary and somewhat on overload yet quite satisfied. My skiing had been tweaked. I was now thinking more about “short leg, long leg” on my dynamic parallel turns and thanks to C.T., I had stuffed a bunch more drills and teaching aids into my bag of tricks.
He cheerfully thanked all of us for our attention at the base of the mountain. His exuberance had never waned. For a geek, he’s one heck of an outgoing guy. I would do well to emulate his approach. I think PSIA is on to something.
Thank you to fellow ski instructor, Todd Brown, for the above photo.
