At the end of the North 40 I stopped at the trail head and waited for The Wife to appear. "Wanna go again?" I asked in my best begging, but still sounding cool voice. I got the look of, well I got The Look. We were done. It was a short little double with a slight down hill all the way to the car. Coasting. What a way to top off a trip. One where I thought I would not get to ride my bike, turned out that I got in some pretty impressive riding. Got lucky, no all day in the saddle rides, but quality. Not quantity. This was the kind of trip that gets the juices flowing, but dose not drain the life out of you.
Of course standing in the parking lot of the Moab Brands trail head, we were over 1,000miles from home. Talk about a buzz kill. Back to the hotel, shower, pack, leave. Six hours in the car to Albuquerque. By my best guesstimate we will be in the hotel by 6-7pm. Fueled up and we were out. Miles and miles of road trip. The Wife is reading, and I am trying not to plow head first into the side of the road or into oncoming traffic.
I don't know what it is about New Mexico drivers and why they have a problem with me, but I always find some kook that wants to race me when I try and pass them. With the cruse control on. At least it keeps me entertained, and the anger like a little fire keeping me warm with colorful insults running through my head.
We found the hotel this time. First try. No google issues trying to get us killed. Plus, it was the one we stayed in just a few days previous. Do I trust google maps to find me a pint and food? I like to live dangerously, so I gave it a whirl. Marble Brewery. 3.5miles away. Ended up in a dark industrial part outside of the bright lights of down town ABQ. Thanks google. Wait, there it is. There are people outside under heat lamps. We are here. Yes I had their IPA, took a hard look at the double IPA and decided I want to drive home, not to the crash site.
I have to say that Marble's IPA was the best of the trip. I don't know if it is an actual winner or that it just came at the apex of the trip and the culminating experience just made it all the better. Which ever it might be it was one tasty IPA. If you find yourself in the greater ABQ area and are parched from the high desert air, I highly recommend Marble Brewery. They have a limited menu (food), but more than make up for it with the liquid brewed confections. We shared some nachos.
We hooked up with my sister for a short night cap, and then to the hotel, another long day tomorrow. New Years Eve. 10hrs in a car, driving wishing that you were still riding single track in Utah. This was not to be. We stopped briefly to eat lunch with my parents in Amarillo, and then kept rolling. We made it back to Tulsa in time to clean up and head over to a party. Normally I would be all-a-rage to party it up, but the drive must have taken the wind out of my sails.
Monday, January 23, 2012
Friday, January 20, 2012
Branded
I am going to get very controversial, but I feel this needs to be said. I do have loads of hesitation, but I would not be genuine if I did not tell it like it is. This is my opinion and I have an opinion just like everyone has an opinion like they have _____. Keep an open mind when proceeding, and allow me to explain myself. Please commit your opinion, if you are bold enough to do so.
I am not a fan of Slick Rock. Sorry if I just pissed on your Alamo, but I love flowy-buttery-bermed single track. Slick Rock is the antithesis of my style of riding. Before you get all ranty and ravey, and call your congressperson. Hear me out. The actual geography of SR is super cool, there is nothing else like it anywhere. I give it high marks for being original. The original. We did not ride a whole lot of SR because of the sheer other-worldly-ness of the place. To say that we were weirded out by the place is an understatement. I have to be honest and say that the exposure really jacked with my senses. I was scared, and rode scared. I felt like I was going to fall off, down, go over the bars, every little rise I crested.
It has been several weeks, and I still cannot come up with a better excuse than just plain old FEAR. I cannot bag on the place, because it is rad. I just don't have the round circular objects that bounce to ride a place like that. If I had a week to get used to it I might be able to rock it, but I don't feel that I would enjoy it as much as a loamy tree covered rail-able trail. The one face saving grace (my face) is that I totally dug being able to just go off "trail" and carve up what ever you could without falling to your death. It is a rolling sandstone paved skate park, with banks, drops, whoops, and plenty of places to get some surf inspired turns. This is the part that I love about SR, the ability to choose your own line. I will go back. I have unfinished business. Side note: The Wife hated it.
We made our way to the nearest Mexican food joint and filled the tank. Bummer no imports, just domestic beers, which means Mexican Beers (which I love, but I want local), I'll have a water. The Boss had a fish-bowl margarita, it was tasty. We did a little souvenir shopping and then stopped in at Poison Spider Bikes. This is one of the premier shops in the country. $$$$$$$. Super cool and totally small shop feel. Guys were actually cool and not a-hole shop types. I chatted with him for a while and then dropped the "where do you ride?" question. Told him what I was looking for and like a good dealer who uses, he pointed us in the direction of the Moab Brands trails. Sounds good.
We went back to Moab Brewing after Smiths to get The Julie some root beer. Travis said that I had to have a Derailleur Amber, I had two. I tip my cap to Travis' discerning taste in the brewed beverage department. Good show mate. Back to the hotel, clean up, pack up, early wake up, tomorrow is going to be a long day.
At the Moab Brands trail head I checked the map one more time to get my mental picture, and we were off. It was freaking cold, the sun was still fighting for elevation to make it over the La Sals in the East. Hands and feet were starting to protest, but the blood was pumping trying to do its job. First up, the EZ trail. Flowy single track with some rocks and a little elevation change, but no climbing. Heaven. We hooked with the Bar-M to get to the Rocking A, this was just a double with some elevation change. We arrived at the Rocking A, which was Navajo Slick Rock. Cool. Not so Cool Navajo SR is just like the sandstone, except it is rough with pock marks that make it ride rough. Not a fan.
1.5miles of rough SR and we were done. Circle O was out of the question, it was more of the same. Scratch that. Back to the Bar-M, and we headed back to the end of the EZ and we hit up the Lazy. The Lazy is the sister trail of the EZ. Super fun twisty single track with some elevation gain, but no climbing. Up and down and up and down again. We rounded a corner and the trail dropped down into a shallow slope that was twisty and BERMED. I railed! I was off-the-hook-out-of-control. This produced a permigrin. I might have let out a "Wheeeeeee" once or five times.
At the end of the Lazy we were back to the start, and the North 40 trail head was begging for me to come explore. I asked The Boss? She said OK. We headed out and it started off a little tech, but it has promise, I kept asking if we should continue? Yes. YES! Next little up put us into an awesome contour carve into some twisty down hills. Sweet. I'm sure my legs were a little tired, but I felt nothing but the pull of the trail begging for me to keep turning over the pedals. I no longer felt the bike, I had melted into the man-machine. A oneness that happens, and is unexplainable unless you have been there for yourself. Stoke. I was starting to become this trail, a trail that I had never ridden. I couldn't stop, couldn't slow, just had to go. This was Christmas morning and I just opened a present that I didn't ask for, but it was one that I have always wanted.
I am not a fan of Slick Rock. Sorry if I just pissed on your Alamo, but I love flowy-buttery-bermed single track. Slick Rock is the antithesis of my style of riding. Before you get all ranty and ravey, and call your congressperson. Hear me out. The actual geography of SR is super cool, there is nothing else like it anywhere. I give it high marks for being original. The original. We did not ride a whole lot of SR because of the sheer other-worldly-ness of the place. To say that we were weirded out by the place is an understatement. I have to be honest and say that the exposure really jacked with my senses. I was scared, and rode scared. I felt like I was going to fall off, down, go over the bars, every little rise I crested.
It has been several weeks, and I still cannot come up with a better excuse than just plain old FEAR. I cannot bag on the place, because it is rad. I just don't have the round circular objects that bounce to ride a place like that. If I had a week to get used to it I might be able to rock it, but I don't feel that I would enjoy it as much as a loamy tree covered rail-able trail. The one face saving grace (my face) is that I totally dug being able to just go off "trail" and carve up what ever you could without falling to your death. It is a rolling sandstone paved skate park, with banks, drops, whoops, and plenty of places to get some surf inspired turns. This is the part that I love about SR, the ability to choose your own line. I will go back. I have unfinished business. Side note: The Wife hated it.
We made our way to the nearest Mexican food joint and filled the tank. Bummer no imports, just domestic beers, which means Mexican Beers (which I love, but I want local), I'll have a water. The Boss had a fish-bowl margarita, it was tasty. We did a little souvenir shopping and then stopped in at Poison Spider Bikes. This is one of the premier shops in the country. $$$$$$$. Super cool and totally small shop feel. Guys were actually cool and not a-hole shop types. I chatted with him for a while and then dropped the "where do you ride?" question. Told him what I was looking for and like a good dealer who uses, he pointed us in the direction of the Moab Brands trails. Sounds good.
We went back to Moab Brewing after Smiths to get The Julie some root beer. Travis said that I had to have a Derailleur Amber, I had two. I tip my cap to Travis' discerning taste in the brewed beverage department. Good show mate. Back to the hotel, clean up, pack up, early wake up, tomorrow is going to be a long day.
At the Moab Brands trail head I checked the map one more time to get my mental picture, and we were off. It was freaking cold, the sun was still fighting for elevation to make it over the La Sals in the East. Hands and feet were starting to protest, but the blood was pumping trying to do its job. First up, the EZ trail. Flowy single track with some rocks and a little elevation change, but no climbing. Heaven. We hooked with the Bar-M to get to the Rocking A, this was just a double with some elevation change. We arrived at the Rocking A, which was Navajo Slick Rock. Cool. Not so Cool Navajo SR is just like the sandstone, except it is rough with pock marks that make it ride rough. Not a fan.
1.5miles of rough SR and we were done. Circle O was out of the question, it was more of the same. Scratch that. Back to the Bar-M, and we headed back to the end of the EZ and we hit up the Lazy. The Lazy is the sister trail of the EZ. Super fun twisty single track with some elevation gain, but no climbing. Up and down and up and down again. We rounded a corner and the trail dropped down into a shallow slope that was twisty and BERMED. I railed! I was off-the-hook-out-of-control. This produced a permigrin. I might have let out a "Wheeeeeee" once or five times.
At the end of the Lazy we were back to the start, and the North 40 trail head was begging for me to come explore. I asked The Boss? She said OK. We headed out and it started off a little tech, but it has promise, I kept asking if we should continue? Yes. YES! Next little up put us into an awesome contour carve into some twisty down hills. Sweet. I'm sure my legs were a little tired, but I felt nothing but the pull of the trail begging for me to keep turning over the pedals. I no longer felt the bike, I had melted into the man-machine. A oneness that happens, and is unexplainable unless you have been there for yourself. Stoke. I was starting to become this trail, a trail that I had never ridden. I couldn't stop, couldn't slow, just had to go. This was Christmas morning and I just opened a present that I didn't ask for, but it was one that I have always wanted.
Wednesday, January 18, 2012
M to the OAB
This is like when you get all into a series on TV and they get to the end of the season, you have to wait until it comes back on and they have new shows. Yeah, kinda like that, except not as entertaining. I really think the two or three of you that actually read this are just waiting for a break down or for me to go verbally insane and just write horrible things about people you know. I'm not to that point....Yet. But if it got more people to read......
So when we left our wayward travelers they were about to embark on a single track daytime assault mission at Dead Horse Point, UT. It was cold, the air was crisp with the morning sun warming the red rocks. The view, spectacular. The man and his wife donned the frocks of mountain biking. Words were spoken, helmets fastened, chains were aligned into the proper gear ratio. A small wheelie of joy was held for the slightest of time dropping from pavement to high desert dirt.
Time to rail some sick turns.
DHP is a trail system with two conjoined loops with an inner short/easy loop and a longer/easy loop. Distance worked out to be a mile or so less than what was posted. It was a very well thought out trail, and it did have a few intermediate sections, but all in all it was super fun. All single track with flowing turns a few ups and down, but no climbs. Fast, fast, and more fast. There was quite a bit of snow on the trail in the shaded zones, but no mud to speak of. The snow on the tires mixed with the powdery clay dirt an made some crazy sugar cookie tires that shed like fragmentation grenades. This was a little annoying at times and fun at other times. Perspective. Remember this is the first time I had been on a bike in a few hundred hours, so I had it pinned. The wife was not too amused with my childlike enthusiasm for speed, to her credit she was riding a broken bike. Front fork seized, and rear brake was spongy as Mr. Squarepants. She soldiered on like a trooper not wanting to rent a $45 bike.
At the end I was ready for another lap, but there was a pint and a burger waiting at Moab Brewery. My wife asked for a sample of their Stout, and the waiter with limited English comprehension skills brought a pint. She did not like this one. I had an IPA, was elbow deep into my burger and then tried to finish off her Stout. Yes, and we were still going to go to Slick Rock to check out the world famous trail. I am ashamed to report that I could not finish the job and left beer on the table. It was a sad sad day, I felt shame walking out with a half empty beer on the table. -Optimist.
Hold on folks this is the part of the show they call the cliff-hanger. They build up the action right at the 0:55:00 mark and then put up the to be continued... We headed from Moab Brewery to Slick Rock and geared up for some more MTB action. The parking lot was full of intimidation, it was the view, the feel, everything about rolling out of the lot onto the trail felt ominous. We headed to the Practice Loop, and the first up section was a gear grinding 4mph short climb right into a roll-over screaming downhill turn into some snow and ice. It gets better???
So when we left our wayward travelers they were about to embark on a single track daytime assault mission at Dead Horse Point, UT. It was cold, the air was crisp with the morning sun warming the red rocks. The view, spectacular. The man and his wife donned the frocks of mountain biking. Words were spoken, helmets fastened, chains were aligned into the proper gear ratio. A small wheelie of joy was held for the slightest of time dropping from pavement to high desert dirt.
Time to rail some sick turns.
DHP is a trail system with two conjoined loops with an inner short/easy loop and a longer/easy loop. Distance worked out to be a mile or so less than what was posted. It was a very well thought out trail, and it did have a few intermediate sections, but all in all it was super fun. All single track with flowing turns a few ups and down, but no climbs. Fast, fast, and more fast. There was quite a bit of snow on the trail in the shaded zones, but no mud to speak of. The snow on the tires mixed with the powdery clay dirt an made some crazy sugar cookie tires that shed like fragmentation grenades. This was a little annoying at times and fun at other times. Perspective. Remember this is the first time I had been on a bike in a few hundred hours, so I had it pinned. The wife was not too amused with my childlike enthusiasm for speed, to her credit she was riding a broken bike. Front fork seized, and rear brake was spongy as Mr. Squarepants. She soldiered on like a trooper not wanting to rent a $45 bike.
At the end I was ready for another lap, but there was a pint and a burger waiting at Moab Brewery. My wife asked for a sample of their Stout, and the waiter with limited English comprehension skills brought a pint. She did not like this one. I had an IPA, was elbow deep into my burger and then tried to finish off her Stout. Yes, and we were still going to go to Slick Rock to check out the world famous trail. I am ashamed to report that I could not finish the job and left beer on the table. It was a sad sad day, I felt shame walking out with a half empty beer on the table. -Optimist.
Hold on folks this is the part of the show they call the cliff-hanger. They build up the action right at the 0:55:00 mark and then put up the to be continued... We headed from Moab Brewery to Slick Rock and geared up for some more MTB action. The parking lot was full of intimidation, it was the view, the feel, everything about rolling out of the lot onto the trail felt ominous. We headed to the Practice Loop, and the first up section was a gear grinding 4mph short climb right into a roll-over screaming downhill turn into some snow and ice. It gets better???
Saturday, January 14, 2012
bloggages
I have to admit, that this was not completely and totally my idea. That being said, I don't have to take complete and total responsibility if this does not work out as planned. You know who you are, thank you for the inspiration to write more. Right now it seems like a great idea, I might curse you later. Follow me on the Twitter already! That's right, you know who you are.
Anyway, I am going to try and blog about my new life as a bike shop employee. This is a dream job for me. Don't question it, I have always wanted to be in an outdoor sports "shop". When I was younger I skied, so I wanted to work in a ski shop. When I started skateboarding I wanted to work in a skate shop. Snowboard -board shop. Now that I've been riding bikes my sights have been set on working in a bike shop. There you have it in 200 words or less.
If you are the slight bit curious, great. You probably would not be reading this if you were not just a little curious. Who am I kidding there is like, what is it now three of you who read this. Really this is not Fight Club, you can talk about my blog, and now blogs. That's right people plural. Blogs.
wrench-ed is the title of my new blog. More to come on the title, the meaning, and where I came up with the idea behind the title. For now you can find it in the My Blog List on the right of this page. ----->
Or, if you have to have the tech-no-whiz-bang: wrench-ed.blogspot.com
Anyway, I am going to try and blog about my new life as a bike shop employee. This is a dream job for me. Don't question it, I have always wanted to be in an outdoor sports "shop". When I was younger I skied, so I wanted to work in a ski shop. When I started skateboarding I wanted to work in a skate shop. Snowboard -board shop. Now that I've been riding bikes my sights have been set on working in a bike shop. There you have it in 200 words or less.
If you are the slight bit curious, great. You probably would not be reading this if you were not just a little curious. Who am I kidding there is like, what is it now three of you who read this. Really this is not Fight Club, you can talk about my blog, and now blogs. That's right people plural. Blogs.
wrench-ed is the title of my new blog. More to come on the title, the meaning, and where I came up with the idea behind the title. For now you can find it in the My Blog List on the right of this page. ----->
Or, if you have to have the tech-no-whiz-bang: wrench-ed.blogspot.com
Friday, January 13, 2012
Setting Course for Moab
The four of us ended up eating at a Mexican food joint on Main, and then back to our respective rooms at the same hotel. The next morning found us headed off to some squiggly line on a map that the snowshoe rental guy pointed us. He put off the attitude that he was less than helpful, yet very helpful. Even through the fog of a few pints I had "a feeling". The Forest Service Road was clean and dry up to the point that we are rim deep in snow. We unanimously decide to turn back, back to the safety of pavement and road signs. FiL and wife tell us of a trail that their Realtor showed them yesterday, and we point in that direction.
We pulled up to the trail head and it was, get this, just a few hundred feet from where we XC skied the day before. How's that for you? We did a nice little hike down into the valley below where the river and the Durango Narrow Gage RR tracks are nestled. It was a beautiful hike and then we had tohike climb back out. Luckily we had not strayed too far.
Packed up and ready to make some time to the promised land of Utah. I have not been to Utah in over ten years. The drive back reminded me of moving. It was a flood of emotions, old scars were suddenly new and pink. Wounds fresh from battle. My mind raced with images, and clips from the movie of my past. Mostly good but like they say "you take the good, you take the bad", and there were a few bad apples in the basket. There were memories that I have not thought upon that came to the surface like it were yesterday. I really feel that geography can also attach itself into your subconscious and once back in a region or specific place it becomes a trigger. I'm not talking about seeing, I'm talking about being. Fragments of yourself that are left behind to be retrieved later, or never.
I never lived in Moab, and I only traveled through when going home or for vacations, but it had the feeling of familiarity. I felt I knew the place and like I had belonged or do belong. It was good to be here. We drove straight through town and right to Arches. This place is huge. I cannot describe it any better than that. I like the word enormity. Giant. One, Arches is spread out and there is some drive involved in seeing the sights; two, everything is just so big. We tried to do the express lane drive through and it was still too much. The sun was leaving for the day, my passenger was becoming bored, I was feeling pressure to entertain my passenger. Needless to say we left a great deal to see for next time. I pray there is a next time.
Dead Horse Point is___________. I can write cliches all night and they would all be true, but never show you what it is to see. It made my knees weak and my stomach turn. The void was massive, a negative space that seemed to want to drag me into it, if I stared too long or stood too close. It had gravity an attractiveness that tugged at my soul and at my flesh. I couldn't stop. Looking. I was an indiscriminate landscape voyeur. Every vantage point a different pleasure yet it all was of the same. All of this is too much to take in. Good thing there is a MTB trail at the visitor center. Time for some single track.
We pulled up to the trail head and it was, get this, just a few hundred feet from where we XC skied the day before. How's that for you? We did a nice little hike down into the valley below where the river and the Durango Narrow Gage RR tracks are nestled. It was a beautiful hike and then we had to
Packed up and ready to make some time to the promised land of Utah. I have not been to Utah in over ten years. The drive back reminded me of moving. It was a flood of emotions, old scars were suddenly new and pink. Wounds fresh from battle. My mind raced with images, and clips from the movie of my past. Mostly good but like they say "you take the good, you take the bad", and there were a few bad apples in the basket. There were memories that I have not thought upon that came to the surface like it were yesterday. I really feel that geography can also attach itself into your subconscious and once back in a region or specific place it becomes a trigger. I'm not talking about seeing, I'm talking about being. Fragments of yourself that are left behind to be retrieved later, or never.
I never lived in Moab, and I only traveled through when going home or for vacations, but it had the feeling of familiarity. I felt I knew the place and like I had belonged or do belong. It was good to be here. We drove straight through town and right to Arches. This place is huge. I cannot describe it any better than that. I like the word enormity. Giant. One, Arches is spread out and there is some drive involved in seeing the sights; two, everything is just so big. We tried to do the express lane drive through and it was still too much. The sun was leaving for the day, my passenger was becoming bored, I was feeling pressure to entertain my passenger. Needless to say we left a great deal to see for next time. I pray there is a next time.
Dead Horse Point is___________. I can write cliches all night and they would all be true, but never show you what it is to see. It made my knees weak and my stomach turn. The void was massive, a negative space that seemed to want to drag me into it, if I stared too long or stood too close. It had gravity an attractiveness that tugged at my soul and at my flesh. I couldn't stop. Looking. I was an indiscriminate landscape voyeur. Every vantage point a different pleasure yet it all was of the same. All of this is too much to take in. Good thing there is a MTB trail at the visitor center. Time for some single track.
Thursday, January 12, 2012
Last Tango in Durango
XC skiing is hard work, I don't like hard work, but I do like this. If I lived in a snow-covered geographical location I could see myself getting all into to this. That is just what I need another gear intensive sport that requires mountains of time to get good at, like I don't already have a garage full of toys. Jack of All, Master of None.
With the sun directly overhead and my stomach sending my brain text messages, it is time to eat. I do the whole man thing and go ask the rental guy where to get a good pint. And some food. The Old Schoolhouse just up the road. Pizzas and beer. Tons of atmosphere. Closed. Now what? We are about 20some odd miles from Durango and starving. Guess we are headed back to Durango, I am not going to fight the crowd atPurgatory Durango Mnt Resort. Thirteen-ish miles and I spy a tiny Restaurant sign sandwiched between Gas and Groceries.
First impressions would have most people running for the hills or back to civilization, but the smell said "Stay". Oh, heck yeah, pizza-by-the-slice -to order nonetheless. Well worth the stop and I highly recommend. Fuel level says F, time to humble oneself with some more XC. Sun was warm, no wind and it was perfect. The boss and I did another small loop, crashed some more, got tired and hung it up. One more notch in the belt of life, XC skiing -check.
On the drive back to Durango it was decided by majority rule that we need to check out and quality control a local brewer. Durango Brewery a few miles up and on the left. I made a quick scan of the cars parked in the parking lot and determined we were headed into Locals Territory. Other than stepping out of an Oklahoma platted Rav, we were pseudo-local. Never look at a beer menu when wanting to present yourself as a local, just ask for the IPA. No, really I just look to make sure they have an IPA, but what kind of brewery would you be if you did not have an IPA. Come on.
The Boss texted the FiL to come out and have a pint. I quickly made sure to get some samples for the FiL and wife. They are not accustomed to craft beer. Not to fear, we were able to get them into a Golden Ale for the FiL and a Hefeweizen for FiL's wife. There was a slight mix up in the order and we had a Golden Ale that was orphaned. Not to fear again, for I am a beer disposal unit and I adopted and promptly drank. After a few pints time to hit the town to rent some snowshoes for the in-laws for an outing in the morning.
So I was about 0.0005secs from wetting my pants. Don't judge, I had a few pints and then a cup of coffee. It was the coffee that put me over the edge. Thank goodness for the restroom in the back office of the snowshoe rental place, otherwise I would be facing indecent exposure charges or an embarrassing pant wetting story. So it is time to get something to eat again and we head to another Durango brewery named Steamworks. It was loaded, packed. It was like an hour wait or something crazy bad like that. It was packed full of tourists. Not my cup of tea. Time for a walk.
With the sun directly overhead and my stomach sending my brain text messages, it is time to eat. I do the whole man thing and go ask the rental guy where to get a good pint. And some food. The Old Schoolhouse just up the road. Pizzas and beer. Tons of atmosphere. Closed. Now what? We are about 20some odd miles from Durango and starving. Guess we are headed back to Durango, I am not going to fight the crowd at
First impressions would have most people running for the hills or back to civilization, but the smell said "Stay". Oh, heck yeah, pizza-by-the-slice -to order nonetheless. Well worth the stop and I highly recommend. Fuel level says F, time to humble oneself with some more XC. Sun was warm, no wind and it was perfect. The boss and I did another small loop, crashed some more, got tired and hung it up. One more notch in the belt of life, XC skiing -check.
On the drive back to Durango it was decided by majority rule that we need to check out and quality control a local brewer. Durango Brewery a few miles up and on the left. I made a quick scan of the cars parked in the parking lot and determined we were headed into Locals Territory. Other than stepping out of an Oklahoma platted Rav, we were pseudo-local. Never look at a beer menu when wanting to present yourself as a local, just ask for the IPA. No, really I just look to make sure they have an IPA, but what kind of brewery would you be if you did not have an IPA. Come on.
The Boss texted the FiL to come out and have a pint. I quickly made sure to get some samples for the FiL and wife. They are not accustomed to craft beer. Not to fear, we were able to get them into a Golden Ale for the FiL and a Hefeweizen for FiL's wife. There was a slight mix up in the order and we had a Golden Ale that was orphaned. Not to fear again, for I am a beer disposal unit and I adopted and promptly drank. After a few pints time to hit the town to rent some snowshoes for the in-laws for an outing in the morning.
So I was about 0.0005secs from wetting my pants. Don't judge, I had a few pints and then a cup of coffee. It was the coffee that put me over the edge. Thank goodness for the restroom in the back office of the snowshoe rental place, otherwise I would be facing indecent exposure charges or an embarrassing pant wetting story. So it is time to get something to eat again and we head to another Durango brewery named Steamworks. It was loaded, packed. It was like an hour wait or something crazy bad like that. It was packed full of tourists. Not my cup of tea. Time for a walk.
Wednesday, January 11, 2012
Falling or Failing
Dear Adoring Fan, and Mike,
Sorry I have not updated the blog with more of the Trip out West saga. More to come on that. Seriously, it's coming. Just bare with me and stay tuned. I've been sick, traveled to Texas to celebrate my Dad's 70th Birthday. Now I'm back in town trying to get into the routine, which it to not have a routine. Anyway I know this all sounds like excuses, well good because that is exactly what it is. Excuses. No, really it should sound more like and apology for my extreme amount of lameness. I will try and crank out some more of thelies story to entertain you for the two and a half mins of your day.
I did have a good time at the folks house. Got to see some cousins and family that I have not seen in ages. There were a few missing, and that is just a part of this life thing. People getting older, and at this late in the game it is either birthdays or funerals. I hope to see more birthdays than the latter. My parents look good and are doing good. So good to spend time with them. Don't want to forget my sister. She came over from the Land of Enchantment and we had a good time drinking my homebrew. My sister is the coolest, was when we were growing up and still is to this day. Too bad we didn't have the Def Leopard lps so we could rock out to some Pyromania. Just like old times.
Oh memory lane, the road that would be fun to travel, but only in our minds. You can go home, just not to the past. Time such a funny concept, or is it a funny construct. Sorry I'm not supposed to swim out of the shallow end, these floaties aren't rated for my weight. As those crazy kids say "Good Times". Well, you and Mike, I've got to get some things done around the house and run some errands for the boss so that I can continue to live my fabulous lifestyle.
See you in the funny pages.
Glenn Duh!
Sorry I have not updated the blog with more of the Trip out West saga. More to come on that. Seriously, it's coming. Just bare with me and stay tuned. I've been sick, traveled to Texas to celebrate my Dad's 70th Birthday. Now I'm back in town trying to get into the routine, which it to not have a routine. Anyway I know this all sounds like excuses, well good because that is exactly what it is. Excuses. No, really it should sound more like and apology for my extreme amount of lameness. I will try and crank out some more of the
I did have a good time at the folks house. Got to see some cousins and family that I have not seen in ages. There were a few missing, and that is just a part of this life thing. People getting older, and at this late in the game it is either birthdays or funerals. I hope to see more birthdays than the latter. My parents look good and are doing good. So good to spend time with them. Don't want to forget my sister. She came over from the Land of Enchantment and we had a good time drinking my homebrew. My sister is the coolest, was when we were growing up and still is to this day. Too bad we didn't have the Def Leopard lps so we could rock out to some Pyromania. Just like old times.
Oh memory lane, the road that would be fun to travel, but only in our minds. You can go home, just not to the past. Time such a funny concept, or is it a funny construct. Sorry I'm not supposed to swim out of the shallow end, these floaties aren't rated for my weight. As those crazy kids say "Good Times". Well, you and Mike, I've got to get some things done around the house and run some errands for the boss so that I can continue to live my fabulous lifestyle.
See you in the funny pages.
Glenn Duh!
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