The Last Fixer-Upper

No, this is not our new house. . .





This is the "workshop", one of four outbuildings on our place; our compound, ranch, spread, or "bikey commune" (See Team Velveeta 17 April 2007). This building was chosen because of the combination of 7.5' ceilings, electric, concrete floor, and heat. The other buildings either have sloping ceilings that challenge my 6' clearance requirement, flammable wood floors (can't be too careful), or most importantly: no source of heat. Having spent the end of last winter in an unheated small garage with an extension cord sawing, sanding and staining an entire one-story dwelling's worth of trim, this is the height of luxury. And from that point, "luxury" becomes a flexible term. From the "luxurious" light pink walls, with delightful salmon/lavender window trim. To the short plank I nailed up which is holding up a section of acoustic tile,which had been sagging from a leak in the roof and rodent romping. And the small number of outlets that measure only 5 volts, instead of something closer to say, 110? Why is this "Luxury"? Because over the years my wife and I have moved into actual houses in similar condition, while we fixed them up. Because 100' away is a house in live-in condition, with covers on all the light switches, and trim around all the doors. Actual flooring, not painted plywood. Now maybe none of this has been updated in 30 years, and maybe my wife finds that era's colors of brown and orange less soothing, but we only have to work on it if we want to! I'm not saying we don't need a new roof in a year or two, or that the hot water heater doesn't bang away like a bowling ball in a cement mixer, but at this single point in time, nothing is broken! And a lot of the house is quite nice, and amazingly well insulated. No chance of replacing a section of flooring, and finding rot all the way through the floor joists. Not here. I have informally dubbed this compound "The Last Fixer-Upper". I now formally retire from living in a house while I'm working on it, always managing to get most of it fixed up just before moving to another house, or another state entirely. From dragging over friends and family to share in the fun, and opportunity to put more miles on their reciprocating saws and wallboard equipment. Why do they do it? Because they're good people. And, of course, it's so much nicer to help out when it's someone else's house. But my oft-repeated bit of Asian wisdom "when a man finishes his house, he dies" comes to mind. That could be a metaphor, but I'm not taking any chances (Of course, with respect to that proverb, Sisyphus must of been around for quite a while. You can't be too careful). In the meantime there are plans for expanding porches, re-building the woodshed, taking out carpet and putting a wood floor in the living room. But for now, I'll throw some more wood in the stove, watch the thermometer creep up to 60 F (while it's 25 outside) and saw, stand, and stain to my heart's content.

Don't duck the rope in a snowstorm.

With all the snow the rockies have been getting this week, skiers and snowboarders (including me) have been psyched. Conditions at the local areas have been excellent. I've been using all that powder to hone my tele skills for future backcountry days. I look forward to it, but I'm in no hurry to rush it. Neither is Katie, she and Matt wisely chose Monarch over the backcountry the other day when high winds and abundant snow loaded up the mountain ridges here with hair trigger slabs. I myself have only had an informal class in avalanche safety, and have read some of the literature, but it has been enough to give me a very, very conservative attitude towards snow travel. Especially when the C.A.I.C. map is flashing red over 90% of the state.
Sadly, a skier in Vail didn't live to learn that lesson. He and his two friends were properly equipped, but just as in rock climbing, your gear should be your last line of defense. The first line is caution, knowledge, and careful decision making. Of course, it's easy to second guess someone else's decisions from afar, and after the fact. I just hope that the two surviving friends do not give up their passion for snowsports. They will be wiser after this harsh lesson.
When wearing their winter countenance, Mother Nature and The Old Man Mountain do not allow much forbearance for the ill-prepared or impetuous. Two snowboarders are still missing at Wolf Creek after they went out of bounds on Saturday. We can hope, but it's been five days...

Now, all this is quite the buzzkill, especially since I just posted a video commemorating a really great weekend at Monarch. But the motivation for this post is a notice I just received through the myspace grapevine. A couple of snowboarders, Rachael Fehl and Adam Putnam were rescued by helicopter on Tuesday after being lost in a storm for four days near Ski Sante Fe. That's good news for sure, but I'm especially happy to hear it; Rachael graduated with me from Seneca Valley. I was pretty introverted in high school, and I didn't have too many friends, but she and I were acquaintances, and I recall a climbing trip to McConnell's Mill that was pretty fun. One of those friends from school that you wonder what has become of. I'm very relieved to hear that her and Adam's story is "To be Continued..."

Powder Mission, The Movie

Wave after wave of winter storms have been rolling in across Colorado, breaking on the rocky shore of the Continental Divide. Monarch has been outstanding, getting about a foot of fresh each day for the last four days. It's dumping up there again, but after sending Ed and Jeny home with big frozen grins on their faces my legs need a break from the skis, so I spent today compiling our footage. Thanks to Ed for lending some video and stills to the effort!

Plastic Fantastic

This container leaches 100% pure, unadulterated Radness into my drinking water. Illegal to transport across state lines, frowned upon by the Orthodox Church of Health Hypochondriacs, and known to the State of California to induce in lab rats an irrepressible urge to shred singletrack when given in concentrations greater than one million parts per million.