Category Archives: North America

Exploring New Mexico

IMG_5660 (1).jpg The northbound journey out of Santa Fe, along highway 84 towards Pojoaque, and Espanola could not possibly feel any more Southwestern. Rolling hills are covered with bushes and sagebrush. There are some trees here, but unlike in the East, their impact on the wide open landscape is minimal. They are but mere dots, small points in a panoramic image that shows off the entirety of the landscape of the region, stretching for miles and miles. As a consequence, mountain ranges can be seen in the distance in multiple directions.

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Artwork depicting the culture of the American Southwest can be seen quite frequently along this entire stretch of highway, on roadside decorations, bridges, and even buildings in the distance. There is something about sculptures and murals like these that invariantly make me think of the Southwest, even when I am in a completely different region. The use of colors in particular are reminiscent of this region, warm and dry but still American. The colors are warm, reds, oranges, browns. Even when they use “cool” colors, like green and blue, these murals somehow find a way to make these colors feel warmer than they typically do in other drawings and signage.

I wonder, as much of the artwork of the region originated with the Native tribes that thrived in the area roughly a millennium ago, if the styles that came to be predominant in this region are a mere reflection of the manner in which the landscape, and climate, impact the human psyche. And, is this an aspect of human nature that transcends culture? Did the Spanish, and White and Hispanic people who would later inhabit the region adopt similar artistic styles because they were responding to the same conditions around them and reflecting them in a similar manner?

The reason I was headed in this direction out of Santa Fe, other than just merely to explore, which I do believe is a reasonable pursuit in of itself, was the desire to see one of the most significant, but also confusing places in the United States; Los Alamos. Los Alamos is a place where some of the top scientists in the world came together during World War 2 in order to build the nuclear weapons that eventually ended the war.

Of course, at the time, it wasn’t the Japanese, but the Germans who were the main subject of concern. It was rumored that the Nazis were building this capability, which could have significantly altered the course of the war. The Manhattan Project was both highly secretive (Americans were largely unaware this was going on at the time), and quite controversial, as it still is today.

The entire area has a feel that continues to reflect how Los Alamos came about. Headed towards town, on highway 502 West from Pojoaque, road signs indicate that the stretch of highway is a “safety corridor”. What does that even mean? I have never seen this before. Anywhere else, this road would have a higher speed limit, less fines, and would likely not have three lanes in each direction. Something must be going on here. But, is it still going on? If so, what? And, how much of a secret is it?

The truth is, Los Alamos is a place like no other place on earth, and like the rest of New Mexico, cannot be placed in a specific category. It is, indeed, a place where discoveries are made. But, unlike many other towns with major labs, and I am particularly thinking of Boulder, Colorado, which is near my home, it does not appear laid back at all. After parking, I had an intense experience crossing the street to get to the Bradbury Science Museum. This crosswalk had a walk/ don’t walk voice command that spoke words with a level of urgency that appeared to highlight the National Security and wartime origins of this town. It felt as if 70 years later, the mindset had never really changed from its wartime heritage. Or, in the very least, the town had kept its infrastructure, which was built specifically for time of extremely heightened security.

The Bradbury Museum is quite well done, and for those traveling on a budget, is free.

I’d say slightly over half of the museums exhibits focus on the Manhattan Project, the A-Bomb and the original history of the laboratory. However, the laboratory is operational, and has been involved in some high caliber research over the last 70 years, in areas such as cancer detection, energy conservation, and wildfire prevention. It is amazing to think, the same place, the same people, the same lab, and the same knowledge base was used both to create the most destructive item on the face of the earth, nuclear weapons, but also to advance humanity and help countless people better their lives!

One of the reasons Los Alamos was selected as the location for this top secret lab, was that it had to attract top scientists, many of the young at the time, to a project that likely meant years in seclusion. While these young scientists would not have the benefits of urban nightlife, for Los Alamos, and the laboratory, they found an area with plenty of opportunity for outdoor activities. The volume of hiking trails throughout Los Alamos County (a relatively small county) reflects this history.

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Just West of town, and the lab, is a large area known as the Santa Fe National Forest. This National Forest, in many ways resembles the National Forests that can be found throughout Colorado. In fact, I can picture many of the same activities, backpacking, camping, and with the Jemez River, water activities such as fishing and boating.

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The main difference I felt, between here and many of the forested areas of Colorado I regularly frequent for hikes and such, is that this area seemed significantly less crowded- emptier.

Along highway 4, the main road through the forest, there is one area hot spot, a unique natural feature known as the Soda Dam, a waterfall the flows between a rock along the Jemez River.

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Not only does this area feature a waterfall unlike any other place on earth, but there are geothermal features that make this river a popular pseudo hot spring. I say pseudo- hot spring, as the water is not really hot, as it is in some areas where water temperatures resemble that of a hot tub. It is just simply warmer than you would expect it to be given its high altitude origins. It was warm enough that people were able to comfortably swim in it.

It is an area that is just simply peaceful and panoramic, the kind of place where one can simply turn off the wheels that churn in their heads as a result of everyday life, and just sit, swim, float, or fish, gazing in the distance at the majesty of the region. Two weeks later, I still gaze at this very photograph and feel as if I am entering a much more peaceful state of mind. I almost need to place it in front of my desk, as a stress reliever.

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The entire west is full of areas like this, where, due to unique geological history, the rocks take on a reddish color. This is the color that many associated with the American Southwest. Although most of Central New Mexico is much browner, especially in April, a section of bright red suddenly appears at the South end of Santa Fe National Forest, along highway 4, at the border of Jemez Pueblo, yet another Native American village.

The day ended with a final drive down highway 550 towards Albuquerque, where the Sandia Mountains, largely to the City’s Northeast, drew gradually closer as the drive progressed.

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Thinking about all of the beautiful places I saw over the course of the day, my main regret is spending too much of the day in the car, and not being able to stop, hike, float, walk around, and just get immerced in area. As a travel enthusiast who unfortunately has responsibilities at home, it is all too easy to get into the trap of planning too many activities for too short of a period of time. This often makes travel feel rushed, like there is too little time to experience some of the places we see. Luckily, I live in Colorado, and therefore can get similar experiences, National Forest recreation areas and such, closer to home. But, there are some subtle differences, and things that make this area unique. I would very much like to come back here at a much more relaxed pace, and experience another side of New Mexico life.

An Old World Town in a New World Region

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In the U.S.A., we are quite accustomed to the seeing certain kinds of towns in certain parts of the country. Since cities were built earlier on the East Coast, we expect to see towns laid out like Boston, Annapolis, or Charleston. These cities tend to be a bit more challenging to navigate, as is particularly the case with Boston.

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By contrast, in the Western part of the country, we expect to see towns built more around automobile (or the automobile’s predecessor in the late 19^th Century, the horse drawn carriage). Cities like Phoenix, designed with driving in mind, have mostly straight-line roads, with suburban areas having windy subdivisions.

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This is what we have come to expect from towns in this part of the country. So, when I first looked at Santa Fe’s road network, I was quite surprised to see a city full of windy roads that resembled something I would expect to see along the East Coast, or in Europe.

Oddly enough, New Mexico is one of the oldest regions in the U.S., at least when it comes to architecture. The historical lineage is just different. New Mexico is home to over a hundred Native American Pueblos that date back to long before anyone associated with the United States of America would arrive. Many of them are still inhabited, with some having been inhabited for over 1000 years! This is quite a long time for this part of the world.

Santa Fe, New Mexico’s capitol city was founded originally as a Spanish colony in 1610, ten years before the Mayflower would come ashore in Massachusetts, and still retains much of its original Spanish style. In some ways, driving into New Mexico feels like entering a whole different region, fairly instantaneously. I first noticed this storm chasing in college. It was my first time in New Mexico, or Arizona. I was previously unaware of the prevalence of adobe style buildings in these two states, and was somewhat surprised to see how abruptly the styles of the building around me changed once I crossed the border from Texas into New Mexico.

Santa Fe appears to have retained much of its cultural heritage. Aware that New Mexico has a substantial Spanish history, I decided that it might be a good idea to check out a Spanish restaurant downtown.

Taberna came highly recommended by the staff at the hotel, and certainly did not disappoint. The food was excellent, and, on this particular evening, a performer named Jesus Bas performed for the customers. I sincerely, if only for a moment while sipping a glass of wine, tasting enchiladas, and hearing Spanish music, felt like I was in Spain. Well, at the very least, it made me want to go to Spain.

I decided to somewhat follow in the footsteps of one of the people who inspired me to start writing about my travels, Anthony Bourdaine. For those not familiar, he is a chef who eventually became the host of a series of food related travel shows. I watched a lot of his previous Travel Channel show No Reservations, where he did not just simply describe the food he was eating, he would also reflect upon the experience, what certain places made him feel like, and what historical context they can be placed in and such. His current show, which is actually a bit less food focused and more focused on the travel is called Parts Unknown. So, I was actually quite excited to see a souvenir shop actually called Parts Unknown. Additionally, the shop is located only a few doors down from one of the places Anthony Bourdaine visited on the Season 2 episode where he travels around New Mexico; the Five and Dime, a shop where he gets a Frito Chili Pie, a commonly served dish in New Mexico.

I did not end up getting the Frito Chili Pie, as there were a limited number of meals I could have here in Santa Fe. I mostly just looked around at the souvenirs available in this shop, which featured Santa Fe’s connection to one of my favorite aspects of American History, route 66 (although the route bypassed Santa Fe starting in 1937).

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I ended up going to a place called Horesman’s Haven, a small restaurant on the edge of Santa Fe famous for authentic New Mexican style food where Anthony Bourdaine was caught off guard by the level of spice in their green chili.

My chili was not quite as spicy, but still packed quite a punch. I am glad it did! Many people try to avoid spicy food while on vacation, to avoid experiencing an upset stomach while far from home. In this case, the level of spice was an important part of the experience. Life is meant to be experienced. Some people spend their entire lives trying to avoid bad outcomes. In my view this is a sure fire way to miss out on countless rewarding experiences. Bad outcomes are going to happen. We just need to manage them in our own way. Missing out on a whole bunch of experiences, and I am talking about things much more significant than one high quality meal, bears a much greater cost than the occasional unfavorable outcome.

I am guessing this is the attitude taken by the unexpectedly high number of people who make a living as an artist in this town. In the downtown part of Santa Fe, it seemed like half of all buildings house art galleries. Santa Fe is known for art galleries, but there seemed to be way more than is necessary to support a town of roughly 70,000 people, even if all of those people are wealthy and have dozens and dozens of pieces of artwork hanging from all of their walls.

Like New Mexico as a whole, Santa Fe appears to have an interesting set of values that does not fit neatly into one of the categories we have become familiar with. It is western, but also European. It is cowboy, but also quite diverse.

It is a state capital, but has a state capital building that looks nothing like any of the other ones I have seen across the country.

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It is the kind of place that erects historical markers dedicated to fiscal responsibility, an important, even if not flashy, achievement, and one that reflects the western values of personal responsibility.

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It is also a place that erects building dedicated to the memory horrible death marches in Europe.

It is both “old world”, and “new world”. It does what we all need to do, both in our own cities, and more importantly, individually. It combines old ideas with new ideas in a way that uniquely represents its individual identity.

Road Trip to Santa Fe

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I spent about half a decade working in the Insurance Industry, an industry with a significant presence in Bermuda. At workshops, conferences, and in meetings, I would regularly interact with people who lived there. The place certainly has its draw, and with the right opportunity, a person with experience in the industry could make a really good life there, despite the high cost of living.

I often imagine what it would be like to have a totally different life, in a totally different place, particularly when traveling, or when I meet someone from somewhere far away. While working in the insurance industry, although I never seriously considered up and moving to Bermuda, I did imagine what it would be like a couple of dozen times. Each time I imagined it, I would always end up dwelling on the lack of room to roam around there. The island is only 20.6 square miles, and getting anywhere else requires a flight. I pictured myself moving there, getting my swimming trunks out, snorkeling, attending a few parties and such, but then, eventually, just getting restless, and missing something I love to do here in mainland U.S.A.; taking a road trip.

There is something I really love about road trips. When I refer to road trips, I am not talking about simply driving somewhere. A lot of people drive to work every day, or to a relative’s house every other weekend, and those drives don’t feel like “road trips”. I’m talking about driving somewhere a significant distance away that is not a routine trip; somewhere that is somewhat unknown. On road trips, we have somewhat of an idea as to what to expect, based on what we have heard, read, or researched, but we do not know it intimately. We have not experienced the towns we will pass along the way, which exits have the best deals on gas, and where the best restaurants are. In other words, there are still some surprises, and we are still going to encounter something unexpected.

Driving south along I-25, the first indication that one is reaching the Southernmost portion of Colorado is the Spanish Peaks. While visible farther north, they take prominence south of Pueblo. The Spanish Peaks are nowhere near the tallest features in Southern Colorado. In fact, within 30 miles or so, there are 5 mountains taller than 14,000 feet (14ers)! But, since they are relatively isolated from other natural features, and can be seen quite some distance, they are a prominent landmark toady (an entire region is named Spanish Peaks country, as well as the names of countless business in the region), and were a prominent landmark on the old Santa Fe Trail.

Approaching Trinidad, CO, the last town before the New Mexico border, the Spanish Peaks disappear from the horizon as the highway enters a much hillier region approaching Raton Pass. It is here that the path of Interstate 25 joins with the old Santa Fe Trail, which it will more or less follow for the remainder of the trip to Santa Fe. This trail was first pioneered by the Spanish and later played a pivotal role in American history including westward expansion, and the eventual conquest of the Southwest from Mexico.

I had mixed expectations of Raton Pass. Many years back, I was on a ten-day storm chase. Our group was situated in Clovis, New Mexico, which is quite close to the Texas-New Mexico border. We were discussing the possibility of chasing upslope storms roughly an hour northeast of Denver the following day. Some of us brought up the possibility of driving west to Raton so we can take the Interstate to our target destination, but the group leader balked at the idea, instead suggesting driving up 385, as he felt it might be risky to take a large convoy of chase vehicles over Raton Pass. We ended up deciding not to drive up to Northeastern Colorado, as, in the morning, the storm outlook had weakened, and we no longer felt it worth the drive. By the way, this is common on storm chases, you really never know where you will end up going. However, ever since then, I had kind of wondered what it was like to drive over this pass.

As the photos indicate, the road gets windy as motorists climb from Trinidad, at roughly 6000′ in elevation, over Raton Pass, which tops out at 7834′. It’s definitely not nearly as rough as heading over the Rocky Mountains along I-70 or I-80, but definitely is a much more major incline than anything a group of people that drives largely in the Great Plains from Texas up to South Dakota would typically experience.

Oh, and in one of the strangest of coincidences, the top of the pass is right at the border of Colorado and New Mexico. This is odd as, first of all, the Colorado-New Mexico border is defined as the 37th parallel, and has nothing to do with where any mountain pass is located, and roads through mountain passes are built to take the safest and most effective route. The fact that the place where this road crosses the 37th parallel most effectively happens to also be the high point seems to me as a pure coincidence. Maybe someday I will read into this, the story behind the road and such, but I have yet to do so.

After a descent into Raton, the road reaches a segment that is long, flat, open, and rather empty.

I switched the music on the radio to classic rock, The Clash, Ozzy, Queensryche and such. For some reason, there is something about the sound of guitar rock that makes more sense while driving through scenery like this than many other forms of music. As the afternoon passed along this landscape, cloudy skies gave way to peaks from the sun only every once in a while. A few periods of gentile, chilly rain fell from the skies. In some ways it reminded me of a storm chase gone horribly wrong, the day slowly but surely slipping away with no prospects of favorable storm conditions developing. However, in other ways, the drive was relaxing, allowing me to think without any distractions.

After passing through a town called Las Vegas, NM (which I assure you is nothing like the Las Vegas in Nevada), the highway turns West. It kind of loops the last 60 or so miles into Santa Fe, even heading back northward for the last ten miles, following the route of the old Santa Fe trail. However, unlike the previous 100 or so miles, this part of the trail, and the drive, is far from flat.

To the right, is the southernmost part of the Sangre de Cristo mountain range, and an area now part of the Santa Fe National Forest. It is these mountains that the trail routed 19th century pioneers around. To the left are a series of bluffs which, luckily, the trail did not have to also bypass, as it would have added many more miles to the journey. The road itself slowly climbs over Glorietta Pass, descending only slightly into New Mexico’s Capitol City- Santa Fe.

The Colorado Model Railroad Museum

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The later half of March is a confusing time to be in Colorado. The range of possible weather events makes it a tough time period to plan for. In the mountains, there are plenty of times snow continues to fall, and provides more high quality snow days for skiers and snowboarders. But, the snow does not always continue to fall, and if it doesn’t, conditions on the mountain can deteriorate fast, as warmer temperatures are likely to eat away at the snow pack.

At lower elevations there is quite a bit of variance as well. March can easily bring Denver, Fort Collins, and even Colorado Springs long strings of 70 degree days. It can also bring heavy snowfall, as was the case this past Wednesday.

There’s no guarantee that the weather will cooperate for any outdoor activities. There is always the chance that skiing conditions will continue to deteriorate without conditions for cycling or hiking at lower elevations improving. For people like me, this time of year has the potential to be quite underwhelming. Due to this uncertainty, I would not personally recommend people travel any great distance to visit Colorado in the later half of March or April.

With leftover snow on the ground, covering the trails and such, this weekend ended up being a good time to visit one of Colorado’s indoor attractions. I often lament that Colorado does have some quality museums, an indoor activity, but that I rarely actually visit them as I am planning outdoor adventures. A weekend like this, with less than inspiring weather conditions is the perfect time visit the Colorado Model Railroad Museum in Greeley.

As should be expected from a museum dedicated to model railroads, there is quite a bit on display here. Following the suggested self-guided tour route through the museum, I started out by going upstairs, where I viewed the model rail display in its entirety.

Although it is neat to see these trains go by, each one carrying a different type of freight across the landscape, model railroads are about so much more than just the trains. They depicts towns, industry, and scenery. Some of the mountains depicted on this display even contain small components of real rock.

The upper floor of this museum is like a trip back in time. Plastered on the wall is a map of regional railways, which were once the primary way in which we traveled around the area. After viewing the photos of historic rail depots, posters from the middle of the 20th Century promoting passenger rail service, and old train schedules on display, I imagined myself in the setting of some quasi-ambiguous time in the middle part of last century, bags packed, ready to hop aboard one of these trains to embark on an adventure. I gaze at these maps, and think about how much I enjoy not only the adventures I have at various travel destinations, but the process of getting there, the journey. The railways, and these models, are all about the journey!

The second half of the self guided tour takes visitors downstairs, to see the components of this elaborate model train display individually. Each segment of model trains tell a story, but not a straightforward story. They show a snapshot of life in different places along this train’s route. Looking at all of these individual displays, it is quite easy to imagine oneself there, as part of the story, or as an omnipresent type of observer. The details and creativity allow visitors to develop a story based on what they see.

In this thriving town along the rail route, I imagine myself getting a dollar out to purchase a soda from a vending machine on a hot day. I imagine what this family is doing. Did they just have a fight? The Man’s arms are folded and the daughter is turned away from her parents, clinging to a stuffed bear.

They got creative too. The scene here is a wildfire being put out by firefighters. This is one of many places throughout this gigantic exhibit where specific events are depicted. Not only do we see where stores are, where houses are and such, imagining the day-to-day life in fictitious towns along the route, periodic occurrences are displayed before us as well.

In a few areas, the builders of this display got even more creative. My favorite one here depicts a kayaking trip gone wrong. This kayak now inhabited by a black bear, with two people having been thrown into the water, only one still holding on to their paddle.

A ton of work went into the displays at this particular museum. It’s been a long time since I have been to a museum like this one, but I picture most model railway museums being similar in nature. It is impossible to overstate how important attention to detail is when creating an exhibit like this, or even when people create model train sets for their own homes and gardens. I do not consider myself detail-oriented enough to put something like this together. I am also probably way too extroverted to want to spend the time putting together a display like this.

Seeing this display, first in its entirety, and then by its individual components, gave me a newfound appreciation for the attention to detail payed when creating this exhibit. None of it would have been nearly as good had anyone involved in building this exhibit taken the attitude I often take that details matter less than the big picture. The story of this exhibit would not be presented properly had one little item, one tiny piece of brick at 1:87 scale been slightly off. Maybe details need not be dismissed. Maybe those of us that are frustrated with dealing with details we deem insignificant need to just understand how they fit into the big picture.

A Fancier Ski Experience

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There are plenty of things that make skiing at Beaver Creek Resort different from pretty much anywhere I have ever skied. As soon as I walk into the ski village, I am greeted by the resort’s staff in an extremely friendly manner. The friendliness of the staff reminds me of the few times I had visited high priced golf resorts, and was greeted by staff offering to wipe down my clubs after a round of golf. In a away, right from the get-go I feel like I am not at a typical ski resort, but somewhat of a country club of ski resorts.

After this, as is the case with most other resorts, I walk through a ski village to get to the lifts. However, at Beaver Creek, this walk involves getting on a series of elevators, something I have yet to see anywhere else I have ever skied.

In addition to the elevators, Starbucks coffee and other amenities in the village, every day at 3:00 P.M., cookies are brought out to guests at the main village — for free! In fact, on days that are less busy, staff will come out with trays of cookies and often hand guests two cookies at a time! Last time I visited this resort, I ended up eating 4 cookies!

It’s easy to build up an appetite for those cookies here. In addition to the standard type of ski runs that one finds at many of the other mountains in the area, the resort has some interesting areas that are both unique and challenging.

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First off, some of the steepest terrain can be found here, particularly for “groomed” trails. I use the term “groomed” loosely here, as when most people think of a groomed ski trail, they think of one that had been groomed recently, often with marks from the recent grooming.

(Note: This particular image was taken at Keystone Resort)

This is some of the easiest terrain to ski on, a there are no small obstacles to take a skier off course, and the snow has been churned up by the groomers to make stopping relatively easier. However, once the snow is pushed away, either by numerous skiers making turns on the trail, or by strong winds, the conditions become much more challenging, as they can get icy, making stopping more difficult. This seems to be the case every time I go to the steepest part of Beaver Creek ski resort; areas called Grouse Mountain and Birds of Prey.

Birds of Prey is where the 2015 World Championships were held. I had heard that this was the fastest ski trail in the State of Colorado, and that they actually purposely make the trail icier for competition. I knew it would be scary to ski here, but I wanted to have the experience of actually skiing on a trail that professional skiers compete on.

The trail certainly was icy (or “race surfaced”)! I actually fell three times trying to get down this course, and apparently, although I could hardly imagine skiing on a surface any icier than this one, it wasn’t even as icy as it is during an actual competition. I would later be reminded, by the friendly staff at one of the ski lifts that of the 36 contestants that entered the World Championships here, only 15 finished, the other 21 fell in some sort of way!

Due to it’s relatively lower base, at 7400′, Beaver Creek Resort is home to a significant amount of aspen glades. By this I mean skiing through the trees, as can be done at pretty much any major ski resort worldwide, but rather than skiing through the pine and evergreen trees that are common at elevations from 9,000 to 12,000 feet (which is where a lot of the skiing at the other Central Colorado resorts is done), skiing through Aspen trees, which are more common at elevations closer to 8,000 feet. Skiing in the Aspens offers a somewhat different tree skiing experience, primarily due to Aspen trees having significantly less branches.

Discussion of Beaver Creek can be somewhat polarizing (although there is something polarizing about every resort in Central Colorado). Beaver Creek is slightly farther away from Denver than Breckenridge, Copper Mountain, and Vail. This means that the resort can often be slightly less crowded, but also means that most people who decide to visit this resort must consciously decide to drive past those other resorts. Some people find the interesting experience, the unique amenities, cookies and special treatment worth the extra travel (and extra money). Others don’t.

As an EPIC Season Pass holder, the money does not factor into the equation. It is pretty much only the travel and opportunity cost. Every time I come to Beaver Creek, I process the experience hoping to come to some kind of major interesting revelation about what makes some people chose the activities they do when they do. In the end, all I actually end up thinking about is how much different the experience is than the experience I get at other resorts in the area, even Vail which is known to be a pretty fancy place in it’s own respect.

When I think about the people I ski with on a regular basis, I see a spectrum of attitudes, related to skiing, as there is with any activity. On one side, there are the people who like to find something they like and stick to it. These are the people who would be content to buy a pass to one resort, find their one favorite neighborhood bar, or have a standard order at a specific restaurant that they order every time. These are the people who just want to enjoy the activity, and, know something they already enjoy, so feel no need to keep searching for something else. On the other side are people who are always looking for variety, and always looking to mix things up. People on this side of the spectrum can get bored going to the same places repeatedly even if they are incredible experiences. In reality, almost everyone fits somewhere between these two extremes I describe. I wonder, though, if for some people, particularly those who live in the area and ski somewhere in Central Colorado almost every weekend, if visiting Beaver Creek is a way to mix things up, doing something different, and ensuring that we get that variety in our experiences. That may be what motivates many people to drive by Keystone, drive by Copper Mountain, and finally drive by Vail and come here to Beaver Creek.

When We Get Stuck

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Here we are, on the verge of something great! It is right in front of us, in plain sight, a brand new endeavor, a great idea, something that’s going to either change the world, change our lives, or just be one heck of a great time! The path in front of us is clear, exciting, invigorating. Never have we felt so alive! With excitement, enthusiasm, and passion, we enter this new endeavor without hesitation. We do our due diligence, of course, but the excitement of what lies ahead by far overwhelms any concerns about what could possibly go wrong.

But then it happens. Shortly into this new endeavor, due to something we either overlooked, poorly estimated, or never even considered in the first place, we find ourselves stuck, much like I was in Vail’s Orient Bowl. That morning, I got off the ski lift, and saw the 15″ of fresh powder that Vail had recently received. Instead of following tracks already made by those who skied in this area earlier in the day, I wanted to make my own tracks. I expected a wild ride through this fresh powder! On the contrary, I suddenly found myself slowing down, and sinking. The realization that I would find myself at a standstill, and need to work to dig my way back on track, is much akin to the realization many of us have when we realize that some aspect of our plan is not going to materialize the way we had anticipated.

What is strange is that this experience, of suddenly finding myself stuck occurred at Vail Resort. Vail Resort is not only home to one of the largest and highest rated ski resorts in the world, but it is also home to a ski museum, which has artifacts of the history of both skiing and the resort itself.

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Vail ski mountain was founded by a man named Pete Siebert, who fought in World War 2 as part of the U.S. Army’s 10th Mountain Division. This group of soldiers trained in the mountains of Colorado, mainly on skis, and were subsequently deployed to Northern Italy to lead an attack, on skis, in the heart of one of the Nazi strongholds in the region. Many of the soldiers from the 10th Mountain Division, despite being from many different places all over the country, found their way back to Colorado, and alongside Siebert, helped develop the skiing industry into what it is today.

The story of skiing, and the story of Vail is summarized quite nicely at the Colorado Ski Museum. In fact, the museum has other exhibits, including one on snowboarding, a bunch of facts about the origin of downhill skiing, which pre-dates Vail and even the 10th Mountain Division’s World War II efforts, and one that shows the history of the U.S. participation in skiing and snowboarding events in the Olympic Games.

Yes, I had to get my picture taken with one of my favorite athletes, even if it is only a cardboard cutout. I was not sure if I would get kicked out for taking this photo, so I made it quick.

The abridged version of the story of Vail is that it opened on December 15, 1962, struggled for a couple of years (the second year they had a snow drought and brought in the Southern Ute Indian Tribe to perform a snow dance for them), and then the resort took off in the later half of the 1960s. After that, the resort periodically expanded, eventually combined with Beaver Creek and became what it is today. For more details, I would seriously recommend visiting the museum. With only a $3 suggested donation, it is a great activity for kind of day where skiers and snowboarders need to take an hour or two off due to weather or exhaustion.

The aspect of Vail’s history that is largely not covered by the Museum is the one that pertained to my own experience earlier that day- getting stuck. The museum has an exhibit, and a video describing the 10th Mountain Division, how they trained, and what they accomplished. They also describe the history of Vail as a ski resort in detail. But, the 10th Mountain Division disbanded at the end of 1945, when the war ended. Vail resort opened in 1962. The only discussion of this roughly 17 year time period between these two events, was that Mr. Siebert was looking for the perfect place to open a ski resort.

In detail, what did Pete Siebert do from 1946 through roughly 1960 (when he started laying the groundwork for Vail)? Nobody knows, but it is definitely possible that he got stuck, much in the same way I was earlier that day. Maybe, like many who returned from World War II, he came back and did not know what to do during Peacetime. Or maybe, he looked at places for years and could not find the right one. It is possible that he could have had a few “false starts”.

Those of us that have ever been, or currently are, stuck, can take solace in the fact that Mr. Siebert eventually, despite what is likely close to a decade of being stuck, put together a world class ski resort. Additionally, many of his fellow 10th Mountain Division soldiers contributed to what Vail eventually became (the shops, restaurants, and even clubs that popped up in Vail Village).

After being stuck in the snow, I eventually made it down the mountain. In fact, after only a short delay, I was able to climb my way out of the deep snow into a set of tracks just to my left. Despite the fact that I did not get what I wanted out of that particular experience, I had a great experience with the remainder of that particular run, finding areas of deep powder farther down, where the terrain is a bit steeper, and then shooting through some glades.

In this particular case, I had no choice but to try to climb my way out of this section of deep powder. In may other situations in life, we do have the option to give up. Unfortunately, we often do prematurely, sometimes simply knowing that there is an easier path. But, the easier path is rarely the more rewarding one. The experience of getting stuck in the snow only to eventually have a great remainder of the run, followed by seeing a parallel experience with the founding of the very resort I was skiing at reminded me that it is often worthwhile to get “unstuck”, but also that it is less of a catastrophe to be stuck in the first place than we often imagine.

We live in a culture that reprimands people for being stuck only for a couple of months. Two months with nothing to show for it- you’re on thin ice …. or out of a job! Sometimes I even reprimand myself for “wasting” a single day! Pete Siebert may have been stuck for over a decade! Yet, he eventually founded Vail, and the experience of living in, or visiting, Colorado would not be the same if it weren’t for this important contribution. So, maybe we need to be less hard on each other, and be less hard on ourselves.

NYC- Sort of Home

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Few places have as high of a profile as New York City. Few places inspire as much thought and discussion, and, in North America, there are few places that are portrayed as frequently in popular culture. New York is one of those places that everybody has a reaction to. Some are in awe of it, see it as some kind of magical place where excitement looms around every corner and dreams come true every day. Some see it as intimidating. Others resent the influence it has on our culture.

At 8.5 Million, New York is by far the largest City in the United States of America. This is less than 3 percent of the National Population, but it’s influence expands far beyond its borders. Every day, millions of Americans living nowhere near New York read two major New York publications, The New York Times and The Wall Street Journal. Across the country people look to New York for the latest in business, music, fashion trends, musicals, and more. And, one would be hard pressed to find anyone in North America that does not recognize Time Square at first glance.

Countless shows and movies are set in New York. At Washington Square Park, it is easy to imagine running into Billy on The Street, the cast of Impractical Jokers, or one of the many other shows that often uses this park as a backdrop for crazy antics.

At Rockefeller Plaza, I imagine being in the cast of 30 Rock, or one of the shows that is actually filmed here.

Yet, what I actually encounter here at Rockefeller Plaza is people in suits waiting in line for a salad, and tourists paying far too much money to skate on an ice rink that is far smaller than one would expect.

Day to day life here appears to be some kind of a tradeoff. There are tons of fun places to go, and things to do! I was only in New York for several days, and this was two weeks ago (I am behind on blogs- life gets in the way sometimes), but I am still thinking of all of the great food I had while here.

It must be amazing to have access to the best of pretty much everything the world has to offer right outside your door.

What intimidates me most about the idea of living in New York City (I say idea because I have no specific plans to move) is the work culture. While the experience one has in any job is more related to the particular industry and particular organization in which they chose to work, geographic location does seem to play a part, and, from what I hear, employers in New York expect a lot from their employees. I actually imagine working at a major corporation in New York City as all of the things I hate about the standard working environment; strict hierarchy, lack of caring, people stepping all over each other, feeling disconnected and like just a cog in a machine, dialed up to 11.

Yet, as I walked around New York City, I realized the first thing I would miss is the friendliness. I do not live in the Midwest or the South, the parts of the country known as being the friendliest of all. But, in Colorado, I feel as if I can smile at strangers, and even strike up conversations with random people as I walk around my neighborhood, go to the store, or go about my life in any other normal way. Here, not so much.

What would the average American feel if they were to move to New York City? What would I feel? Would I fall in love with the cultural institutions, concerts, shows, restaurants, and bars open until 6? Or would I see a City full of people who appear to have had the life sucked out of them by their professions, hurrying from meeting to meeting, yet accomplishing nothing.

New York, despite being like no other palce on this continent, is a city of contrasts. Here, in this City, at any given time, there are people having their lives made, and people having their lives ruined! The City is congested. Yet, one can get around the city quite quickly via subway.

It makes every other system of public transit I have ever ridden (with the possible exception of Washington D.C.) seem slow and frustrating.

I walk down 14th Street. The sidewalks are just as crowded as I remember them. People are as eager to shove those who dare to walk slowly out of the way. It is the fast paced, driven New York of every stereotype.

For blocks, the only vegetation one can see is roped off to avoid overuse and destruction. Yet, a few blocks away, one can find a quiet street, and almost find tranquility.

In summary, in New York I feel both at home and in a foreign country at the same time. With how similar it is to the rest of the county in some respects, and how different it is in other respects, I imagine many Americans would feel the same way. I guess that is why some people would love to call this place home, while others would be frightened by the very idea of it.

Where New England Begins

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Everyone has this idea in their head of the ideal place to live. For some, it is right in the middle of something; the middle of the big city where everything is happening, the middle of the woods, or somewhere else one can truly immerse themselves in the kinds of activities they enjoy most. For others, it is places like this, places that are kind of on the edge of two worlds, that combine easy access to several types of amenities.

Greenwich, Connecticut is literally the first town across the border from New York State. Since the people of New York, and the people of New England have a mutual preference to not include New York in the region known as “New England”, this is the exact place where one enters New England.

But, how much does one really feel like they are in New England when here? The town is clearly a suburb of New York City. There is no unincorporated area that separates Greenwich from the adjacent suburbs that are part of New York State. With an express train, one can be at Grand Central Station in Midtown Manhattan in around 40 minutes.

The town does have a New England-like charm. One needs only travel, by foot, several minutes away from Greenwich Ave. (the town’s main street), and the train station, before they enter an area of windy roads, dense trees and quaint houses one often associates with New England.

It has a charming downtown, as well as a “Commons” outside their City Hall, which is something I have come to associate with New England, as I had not seen areas like this referred to as a “Commons” in other regions of the country.

Perhaps one of Greenwich’s greatest attributes is the beach in an area referred to as “Old Greenwich”.

One of the largest beaches in the area, and one of the few that permits dogs, it attracts a significant number of people, even on a dreary day in January.

Once again, here at the waterfront, one can see where this town sits geographically. Even on a cloudy day, at the end of the Peninsula that extends southward into the Long Island Sound, one can see both the rocky shores that pop up the along the shores of New England, extending all the way from here to Maine, but can also see the skyline of New York City.

Around town, I got that same hybrid-like vibe. The pace of life is definitely different from New York City. In New York City, people appear to have some kind of sense of urgency in everything they do. I tell people who have never lived in New York to imagine the second or third most stressful day of their past year and assume that every person around them is having that kind of day. In the short amount of time I spent in Greenwich, I did not sense nearly that level of urgency in the people around me.

Greenwich’s New York-like and New England-like characteristics are overshadowed by one characteristic that seems to define everything here; wealth!

Dealerships selling expensive cars, even Bentleys, line U.S. highway 1 coming into town. The beachfronts are lined with large, multi-million dollar homes, and downtown is lined with shops selling expensive designer brands.

Gucci, Louie, Michael Kors… I do not even know the name of all of them. Frankly, I do not even care. I can never picture, even if one day I become this wealthy, choosing to spend my money that way. The only reason I know the names I do know is that they pop up in popular song lyrics, particularly rap music. While sometimes I can get extremely annoyed by designer brands, particularly if I am EVER pressured into making a purchase, I cannot help but have some kind of odd admiration for the people that managed to market them, and, convince people to spend the amount of money they do on such products.

The people who create and market designer products have a keen understanding of human psychology (albeit, they could have used it for a better purpose). Anytime anyone spends money (and sometimes time) on something, they want to know what they are getting. It is the same dynamic that takes place when we ask our friend regarding their experience with a specific doctor, or a real estate agent. We do not know what we are getting. Through brands, we create trust. “I know Subarus won’t break down on me”. Or, “I trust the Cohen brothers to make a good film.” So, we buy the product. Those that created these designer brands managed to create a reputation so powerful that millions of people worldwide purchase this product when they could easily purchase something similar for a fraction of the price!

The two main things that stop people from living in that “ideal place” in their heads are job availability and money (which are closely related). The fact that people with this amount of additional money chose to live here speaks volumes to Greenwich’s appeal as a place that combines the best of both worlds. People who live here seem to have the best of both worlds; easy access to New York City, the city with more amenities than any other in the country, and fairly easy access to outdoor activities. Friends that moved here from Manhattan tell me that the move has reduced the travel time to nearly all outdoor activities (hiking, skiing, the beach) by 30-60 minutes. While it’s easy to come here and be envious of the fortunes here, it is also quite easy to see, even from someone who might have a different “ideal place” in mind, why people chose to live here.

Going Back to My Roots

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“If you know your history, then you’ll know where you’re coming from”, Bob Marley explains in his classic hit song Buffalo Soldier. It’s hard to really know how many places the functional equivalent of this phrase has been uttered throughout the history of mankind.

What does it mean to “know your history”, or “know where you’ve been”? Is it sufficient to know your personal story? Or, do you need to know the story of your parents, and your family’s ancestors? How deeply must we understand the cause and effect relationships of events in the past? After all, history, whether we are talking about it in an academic sense or in a personal narrative is about more than just facts. When asked, nearly all people can recite the rudimentary factual aspects of their lives. Where they were born, what schools they attended, when they moved, married, changed jobs, etc. I always wonder, though, whether they understand their life’s events more deeply, how certain things impact one another, what emotions were involved, and what events were significant. In other words, do they understand the “story” of their lives?

This holiday season, and by holiday season I am referring to Christmas and New Years, was kind of a trip back through my own history, or at least the places where said history took place. First, Christmas was spent in the suburbs of Chicago, with my immediate family. I spent a little bit of time in the City of Chicago, with friends, which is where I spent the four years before moving to Denver. But, I largely spent that time in Buffalo Grove, a sort of typical suburb 35 miles northwest of downtown, and the place where I spent my Junior High and High School years.

It’s been said, particularly of Millennials, that young adults go home for the holidays and revert into their teenager mode, subconsciously, because they have returned to the setting of their teenage years. For me, it is a little bit more complicated. Some things are the same, but some things are different. Some things get a little bit more different every year. There is the obvious course of change any particular location undergoes over time; that restaurant that closed, with a new one opening in its place, the road that was reconstructed and widened on the other side of town, and the new neighbors. But there’s also a strange change in how we respond to things, sometimes things that are exactly the same as they were in previous years.

Over the course of our lives, we periodically re-examine things (I do this more than most). Maybe it’s a different experience, or being exposed to a different point of view on something, or some major event. Each year we come back with a slightly different perspective, and, that experience, which was the same exact one we had last year, the year before, and back when we were 14, is viewed differently in our own minds. When it comes specifically to what my family does, both during the holidays, as well as in life in general, there are mixed emotions. There are some things my family does that I did not really appreciate with I was younger, but have found a new appreciation for. There are other things now seem strange to me. I am guessing many people who have moved a significant distance away from “home” have a similar experience at the holidays.

The Chicago area is not my full history. The first 11.5 years of my life, I lived in New York, outside of New York City on Long Island. I didn’t specifically travel to New York on New Years Eve as part of some plan to revisit my past.

But, the two practically back-to-back trips did line up in a manner where I could not help but think along these lines. New Years is already a time when people reflect on their lives. Having just spent time in the place where I spent my recent past, and now being in a place where parts of my early childhood unfolded, I could not help but think it is time for me to re-connect with who I am.

The move from New York to Chicago, my college and graduate school experience, jobs and more recent move to Colorado are the rudimentary facts of my life. My “history”, is the memories, the periodic experiences, the kind of person I was and the kind of people I was around. It is something that is remembered, hopefully accurately, and something that can be reconnected with, but only partially. The New York of 2016 is not the New York of the 1990s. Neighborhoods have made transitions, different kinds of people have both left and moved in, and some of the things one will experience here are significantly different.

However, some of the things are the same. And, while I was not reliving a childhood event, coming back to the places where our formative years unfolded can help us reconnect with our roots. Through this experience, I feel like I am being called to return to my roots, the person I am, naturally, rather than the person we are all pressured to become as we adults in today’s world. It’s like 2016 begun with what the year’s theme needs to be. Outside of whatever negative feedback we have received, the adjustments we have made to be accepted, and who we were told to be, there is a person inside of all of us, the person we naturally are. In this midst of everything I do in my adult life, this is a person I need to not lose sight of. It is a person many of us need to reconnect with. It is my sincere hope that in 2016, we all reconnect with our roots both individually and collectively.

Life On Monument Hill

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What does a dog lover do when they suddenly find themselves dogless? Well, they gladly accept the opportunity to “dog-sit” for their friends when they leave town.

Those that have lost a pet before know the situation. It is just too soon to get a new dog. But, I had become accustomed to spending time with dogs. It still feels sort of strange to come home and not see my dog waiting for me at the door. So, sometimes the best thing to do at this point, while I am missing just hanging out with dogs, is to go somewhere and spend several days with someone else’s dogs.

The first time I drove over what is referred to as the “Palmer Divide” it kind of caught me by surprise. It was my first time driving from Denver to Colorado Springs. As one who loves looking at maps, I knew there was a ridge between the two towns, and I knew it was referred to as the Palmer Divide. I was, however, caught by surprise by how high in elevation I got to just simply driving along Interstate 25. 7,352 feet is over 2,000 feet higher in elevation than Denver, and around the same elevation as Lookout Mountain, a place people can go and overlook the City. It’s way higher than I thought one could go without actually going into the mountains.

A most general simplification of Colorado’s geography slices the state into thirds. The eastern third is essentially part of a larger region that extends nearly 1000 miles east called the “Great Plains”. The central third is the Central Rockies, and the western third is often referred to as the “Western Slope”. In this extremely simplistic model, Monument would technically be part of the eastern third, but it’s high elevation makes it significantly different than most other places referred to as part of the Great Plains.

In some ways, this town has the same look and feel of any fairly recently built suburb. Although the town was incorporated in 1879, most of it’s population arrived since 1990. Unlike in urban areas, the roads wind, and subdivisions are all disconnected from one another.

I actually spent the later half of my childhood (7th-12th grade) in a suburb with a similar layout. My parents house (in which they still live) was in subdivision built during the 1980s. The area is somewhat more densely populated than this, but the experience was actually quite similar. Most suburban subdivisions are across the street from some sort of strip-mall. At my parents house, we happened to be only four houses in from the main road, making the shops across the street quite close.

Over the course of that six year period, I had actually become quite accustomed to an experience that would be considered strange to most people. Given how close all those shops were to home (the grocery store we always went to was less than a quarter of a mile from home), it seemed strange to me not to just walk there, as opposed to driving. However, as anyone who has spent a significant amount of time in suburban areas built in the later part of the 20th Century would attest to, these areas are quite car-centric. For a lot of people who live in these areas, it doesn’t even cross their minds to walk somewhere. Therefore, I would quite commonly be the only person walking anywhere in a place not built with pedestrians in mind. This is an experience I had become accustomed to, but would likely seem strange to most people.

The apartment complex I stayed at in Monument Valley is across the street from a fairly major shopping center, which includes Wal-Mart, the Home Depot, and several restaurants. Theoretically, one could live in a place like that, and, other than whatever commute they have to work, be able to satisfy all the basic needs of life without having to drive anywhere.

As the weekend progressed, I walked back and forth across the street to shops and restaurants, the same way I did all those years ago. I kept thinking to myself about what life is like for people in a place like this. Obviously, most people don’t walk, even if they are just going across the street, but if I lived here, I most certainly would. But, if I lived here, I wonder if I would get bored. Being so close to the mountains (closer than Denver), there were some interesting cloud formations that I would see on a regular basis. But, as much as I love the weather, and was blown away by this long flat cloud in front of the mountain range, that would not entertain me for an entire day.

For nearly all of my life I have been judging certain areas, where there aren’t any interesting bars, restaurants, or other fun places, as boring. In fact, one of the strangest things about the Denver, is that there are sections, within the city limits, that do not have anything within walking distance. When I saw these neighborhoods, I decided I would not want to live there.

But, I really thought long and hard about life in a town like this. Would there theoretically be a way to make it work? I mean, I know that I would miss a lot of urban entities, and taking Ubers, busses, trains, etc. to get around. But, obviously a significant subset of the population does just fine in places like this. They just do something else. Maybe they go out to the park instead of going to a fancy brunch, or they have house parties instead of going to the bars. I would definitely still prefer to live in areas with interesting entities around me, but I maybe I should not be as reliant on places within the neighborhood for entertainment. After all, it does get expensive. If experiencing life in a place like this for a few days can teach me anything, it is that sometimes we need to be creative and figure out something amazing to do with our time on our own, using limited resource.

The Action Story

Learning about the world and about ourselves through travel and experiences

Category Archives: North America

Exploring New Mexico

An Old World Town in a New World Region

Road Trip to Santa Fe

The Colorado Model Railroad Museum

A Fancier Ski Experience

When We Get Stuck

NYC- Sort of Home

Where New England Begins

Going Back to My Roots

Life On Monument Hill