Rebecca and I went on vacation a few weeks ago. I can't outline the exact dates of this vacation, because when we left Denver it was late September, and when we arrived in Crested Butte four hours later, it was late November. It turns out that packing properly for a time traveling vacation is not easy, unless you are Calvin and Hobbes, in which case your time traveling vacation checklist looks like this:
This is the best picture I could get of the trail we'd planned to ride. The 401 is legendary, and it's called the 401 because that's how long in minutes it snows on that trail every night. The trail begins just above where the mountain disappears into the cloud and then climbs from there.
This picture of Mt. Crested Butte makes it look warmer than it was.
This lurching walk to the hotel in the dark is brought to you by Macho Man Randy Savage and the letter Zzzzz. Oooooh yeeeah!
At times the clouds parted to reveal a lighter layer of clouds above, and we were able to squeeze in a couple of rides. Though we rode none of Crested Butte's more famous trails, the short ones we rode were more than we could've hoped for. Only the knowledge that I was wearing a chamois kept me from peeing myself in delight.
"This makes me puke."
After we left Crested Butte, we traveled from late November back to 14,000 B.C. in the few hours it took us to drive to Ridgeway. I hesitate to describe what we saw there, but briefly imagine a bunch of naked, stooped, bearded old guys, more simeon than men, sitting in a pool of hot water seeping from the Earth's crust and occasionally climbing out of the pools to forage for berries. There is no documentation of this portion of the trip because I refused to take photographs. You're welcome. It was the kind of place where, when you caught sight of a crinkly hair floating toward you on the pool's surface, you began telling yourself it was merely back hair.
Check back later for Vacation Time Travel Part IV, followed by Part II.