The rest of the trip was just more of the same.  We tried to cover as much trail as we could, but there is simply way too many in this area to see it all in one sitting.  I was whooped by mid-day on Day 3.  Hats to guys like CJ, 60+ years young, who stayed behind for another day to ride more with other travelers we met during the trip.

I was so tired, I found myself tumbling and toppled over after being thrown off of my rig going about 30 mph.  The soft patch of grass that padded my landing kept me from any serious battle wounds.  Later, I coined the incident, “Riders Fatigue” … that’s when you’ve had way too much ATV’ing for one weekend.

Other than the endless, majestic scenery we encounter along the way, my ATV catapult was the talk of the day.  And on this day, we got out fill of water-crossing.  But this time, no matter how deep the water looked or how fast it went, everyone found their brass balls and crossed it without much thought.  In fact in one crossing, CJ takes an “alternate” route and practically submarines his rig just before pulling it off.

Without further ado, I present to you the video – a super nice way to commemorate the awesome trip.   So I’ll keep the words short and just let the video do the rest of the story telling.  Sit back, relax, and enjoy the show:

[ Gallery, Tales from the Trail (ATV) Taylor Park ]

Our first morning on location started off without a hitch.  And what better way to start it than with a good, hearty meal – Breakfast Burritos.  Jon’s camp cooking reputation precedes him and I was Jon’s apprentice for today.  When you have 8 hungry mouths to cook for, you need at least two sets of hands.  So we cranked them out, which was almost too easy with the setup next to his pop-up.

Jon was the food-mastermind.  On this trip, everyone pitched in for food supply and left it to Jon’s discretion to provision all the meals.  Jon packed and prepared everything into 5 huge coolers and even had a meal schedule.  So after breakfast, we turned the kitchen into a self-served Subway, where each person put together their deli-subs on tasty baguette.

It was complete with chips, candy bar, trail mix, fruits, and water.  Jon, you’re the man! Everything you needed to hit the trail hard.  And that was the plan for the day – hard trail riding.  So first on the agenda – Italian Creek and Reno Ridge Trail. We left base camp and headed back out to FS 742, Taylor River Road, and headed north.  After about 4 miles, we hung a left on FS 748.  The ride was uneventful until we took a detour for Lily Pond turning right on FS 760.  It’s an out-and-back to Lily Pond along this dirt road that eventually turned into steep, single track accents.  Just before Lily Pond are the relics and ruins of Forest Hill Mine.  And what’s just as amazing as these ruins is the view from their location.

We took a short break near the old timbers, but soon got back on the saddle.  The last short stretch presented our first serious mud puddle.

It was a short descent though the dense, woodsy single track to the valley where the pond is.  And soon we burst out into the clearing where we were greeted by a picture perfect view of the small mountain lake and the mountains behind it, which was the locale of the group picture [in Day 1].

We got back on FS 748 and headed for Reno Ridge Road.  Rain showers that threatened all morning finally came.  Regardless of how light it was, it got us into our rain gear on.

Our first real excitement of the day came when we accidentally took 880 at the fork instead of continuing on 748.  On 880, we climbed the hill gaining altitude quickly.  Soon we encountered challenging snow on the trail where my rig got stuck.  But with three ATVs with winches, we had plenty of insurance to get us out of anything.

CJ pulled me out and I gave it another go making sure I maintain gas all the way through the snow.  Right after that, everyone else just gunned it to make it through in one try.

When 880 turned in a dead end, we had realized our error in navigation, so we headed back down the hill back to the fork near Spring Creek Reservoir.  By this time, it was lunch time, so we used the lake setting for our saddle break.

From there we continued our way to Reno Ridge and by this time we had left 748 and were now on 744 (the junction was just past Spring Creek Reservoir).  It’s mostly fire roads on the way up and as soon as we start into the single track, thick, deep snow accompanied it.  We made a good effort at it, but soon the snow became too overwhelming.

Jon had been leading the way.  And although he got through this obstacle on his monster Yamaha Grizzly 700, all four rigs behind him were stopped by the tundra on the trail.  While we tried to  get ourselves out, Jon continued to scout the trail ahead for possibilities of making it through.  But unfortunately the snow just got thicker the further up you go.  What was suppose to be an awesome loop around Italian Creek trail turned into a huge out-and-back via mostly fire roads.

The attempt for Italian Creek took almost all of the day and though it provided some challenges, it left us desiring more from the day.  So on the way back into camp, we took a nice, easy, and scenic trail along Texas Creek.  Where our base camp was on the north side of the creek, this trail run on the south side.  In fact, at one point, CJ approached the creek and took a stab at crossing it.

But not even on his big 800 and with years of riding experience could he find the line to cross the fast moving water.  We were all hopeful to see our first water crossing, but everyone was doubtful since the water just seemed too deep with all the fresh, Spring snow melt.

We continued on the trail and at one point could see our base camp from the south side of the creek.

As we kept riding, all I could think about was crossing the creek.  The only other way to get to base camp was to go all the way out and around to the main road.  Dusk was upon us and my arms, legs, and butt was becoming weary from the day’s riding.  What was just as appealing as crossing the water was the fact it would be just a short hop to our base camp from there.  So on the way back out, we came to the same spot where CJ made the crossing attempt.  Joe, Dana, Alan and I both approached the creek again.  We all looked at and almost unanimously said, “The water is still way too high.”  We must have stood there for 15 minutes just trying to find the slightest possibility of success.  Then Dana had a marvelous realization, “The best place to cross is not where the water is calm … The roughest area … that’s the shallowest!  That’s where rocks are close enough to the surface is causing the water to ripple over!”

“Eureka!” I thought to myself.  But still, everyone thought it be too risky.  For Dana, Alan, and I, the rental shop did say there’s a $1000 recovery fee should we get the rigs stuck.  But the idea really had my engine going and I just couldn’t drop it even after me crew started to head away from the creek.  I just sat there watching the creek flow.  I looked at how swiftly it moved, the roaring sound it made, and most of all, how it behaved over the rough area.  By then, it was very clear I was alone.  I can see from the corner of my eyes the rest of them.  I can see the rear of their rigs and the red tail lights as they sat ready to get going to make the long ride around the creek.  I can almost hear them as they looked back at me, “What’s Leo thinking?  He’s just asking for trouble…”

In a few more minutes, I see Jon and CJ on the other side of the creek.  They were far ahead of us and apparently already made the long trip around.  They parked on the other side of creek and both undoubtedly thinking the same, “What’s Leo thinking??”  I sat stopped in front of the creek with the front two wheels just barely in the water.

Bot CJ and Jon had winches on their rigs, so I figured I would still have an out should I not make it.  But what I was really looking for was for a little nudge … just for someone to say, “Yeah, go for it!!!”  Admittedly, I hadn’t thought it through that even with winches available, someone would still have to walk it out to me in this cold, fridge, rocky fast-moving water.  I was thinking of any of that at all.  I just needed someone, anyone, to give just a scintilla of support.  I can tell without looking that Dana, Joe and Alan were shaking their heads saying things like, “He’s crazy if he thinks he going to cross …”

At that point I start yelling, signing and waving to Jon and CJ… anyway I can to communicate to them over the load roar of the creek.  I could barely hear what they were saying back and all I kept trying to say was, “I think I can do it!  Will you get me out if I get stuck?!?!”  After a few back and forth, I see Jon start pulling out the cable from CJ’s winch.  Then with winch hook in hand, he gestures and waves me in.  I thought to myself, “It’s now or never!”  So I gunned it.  I kept my baring on the roughes part of the creek which seemed to go from one side all the way to the other.  The moment I got more than a few yards into the creek was when the surreal feeling hit – there was no turning back – and the lessons from getting stuck earlier was clear in my head - put in 4×4, keep the diff locked, and whatever you do … maintain momentum.

I knew then and there that whatever happened, I was either going to come out a “hero” or a big “zero”.  I kept my thumb on the throttle and every bump I felt came with an ounce of relieve that my rubber was on the ground and not afloat.  And then before I knew it, the shore was again before me.

As I pull my rig onto the sand, CJ and Jon was just simply stunned and overcomed with joy and laughter.  “You did it!  You did it!  You son of gun… I can’t believe you actually went for it … we were just pulling you leg when we waved you in!“  Jon said as CJ was handing him a 20-dollar bill implying he lost the bet.  It made it all that much funnier and enjoyable to realize neither of these two seasoned riders thought it was possible themselves yet here’s this rookie who just did it.  From there, Dana, Alan and Joe quickly did a turnabout when they saw that I had made it across.  And when they made it to shore, too, the second wave of high-fives came my way again.  I enjoyed my hero moment thoroughly.  What a way to close out the day with an absolutely memorable moment that will sure to get plenty of stories told, re-told … and if CJ’s telling, perhaps even exagerated!

Here’s Dana, Joe and Alan on that very same maiden crossing.

I think we all felt pretty satisfied that we retired the day on a high note – our first major water crossing.  I was grinning all the way back to base camp.  At that point, we had at least one more good thing to look forward to - more of Jon’s renown camp cooking.  For tonight’s menu – Steak/Chicken Kabobs and Artichokes!

The night went on with Jon’s famous margaritas.  It was splendid.

[ Gallery, Tales from the Trail (ATV) Taylor Park ]

Where: Taylor Park (Gunnison National Forest, Colorado)

Drivers and Rigs: Alan (Polaris Sportsman 500 HO), CJ (Polaris Sportsman 800 EFI), Dana (Polaris Sportsman 500 HO), Gary (Yamaha Grizzly 700 FI EPS), Jim (Yamaha Grizzly 660), Joe (Yamaha Grizzly 660), Jon (Yamaha Grizzly 700 FI EPS), Leo (Polaris Sportsman 500 HO)

When: May 28 – May 31

At Lily Pond [From left to right: Alan, Dana, Leo, Gary, Jim, CJ, Jon, Joe]

This was a two-and-half solid days of trail riding on all terrain vehicles (ATV) in the heart of Gunnison National Forest.  Each day of riding was capped off with an evenings filled with food, drinks, and most of all, great company around a camp fire.

For Alan, Dana, Jon and I, Day 1 started with an 8am convoy out of the city.  Jon drove his truck pulling the coleman pop-up while I rode shotgun.  Alan did the same with Dana at the helm in their “Cruise America” motor home right behind us.  We headed west for Gunnison National Forest, which sits on the Pacific Watershed of the Continental Divide.  Our convoy’s accent to twelve thousand feet started gradually through Jefferson County on highway 285 to make our way to the town of Buena Vista.

We were in town just long enough to top of our gas tanks.  A quick turn to the west on Main Street and we were up our way to the top of the Continental Divide via Cottonwood Pass Road.  The paved switch backs was fairly uneventful.  The rode hugged the creek transporting fresh snow melt down from the snow capped Collegiate Peaks.  The Aspens were nice, green, and full among the evergreens, which were seemingly still free of the Pine Beetle infestation.  With all the anticipation for the days ahead, the drive up went by in a flash and before I knew it, we were pulling over at the vista point atop of Cottonwood Pass and making our entrance into Gunnison National Forest.  And the view from the top gave all of us a good taste of what’s to come.

From here, you clearly see the Continental Divide.  The ridge you see to the right and fading to the left are the Collegiate Peaks – Mt. Princeton, Yale, Oxford, and the rest – all 14K feet above sea level.

It’s worth noting that Cottonwood Pass cuts right through the Continental Divide Trail.

After a few snapshots, we started for our descent.  Road 209 is a the unpaved road you’ll take as you proceed west from Cottonwood Pass.  It didn’t take very long for Taylor Park Resevoir to come into view down the slow and bumpy road.  And from looks of the snow bank, we knew there were still plenty of melting that needed to happen before we can 4-wheel ourselves to any peaks via the trail systems.

The drive down was slower than the drive up, but every switch back and every turn gave us fantastic different views of the valley below.  And eventually, we made it down to where 209 meets Forest Service road 742 where Taylor Park Resevoir greeted us all for the first time.  After a quick jog south on FS 742, we were at the hub of the park – the Taylor Park Trading Post.

On approach, we immediately saw Joe and Gary who rented a cabin in the park.  CJ was there too, who had arrived the day before.  We all greeted one another like comrades – happy, excited and enthusiastic about the event that had been planned exhaustively through chit chats and emails.  After the quick rendezvous, we all got back into our rigs and headed for base camp.  The only one missing was Jim, who had missed the convoy due to a school event for his kid and whom we feared may be lost for while trying to find us.  Not wasting anymore day light, CJ, Joe, and Gary (on ATVs) led the way to where CJ had already planted his Lance camper and rigs – a spot along the Texas Creek.  To get back into this spot, you take FS 742 north from the Trading Post passing over a small bridge before turning right onto FS 755.  You can find camp site all along FS 755, but our hand-picked location took nearly an hour from FS 742 along a bumpy road, which the pop-up trailer and Dana’s motor home had to take very slowly.  But upon arrival, it was unanimous that the effort to get there was absolutely worth it.  And how’s this for perfection?  As we approached the campsite, there was Jim right behind us – he found us!  It was a gorgeous spot that Jon scouted via Google Earth.  He gave the coordinates to CJ and CJ did an excellent job find it.  And for CJ, a 60+ old gizzer, he’ll always refer to the spot as “Google Earth”.  It looked just as good as it promised from the satellite photos – nicely tucked deep into the terrain with total seclusion and amazing views and sounds of the creek.

In this area, all campsites are free.  The sites have no boundaries, so it leaves it wide open to use however you like.  Here’s a 360 view of our base camp.  View it at 100% and scroll your window across to get a real good feel of being there.

I helped Jon pop the pop-up, which opens up all kinds of possibilities in camping comforts.  Both ends stretches out 2 queen size sleep areas.  In the middle is a pull out nook, sofa, sink, stove and toilet, not to mention running hot water, built-in shower, and electricity.  You won’t believe all that fits into this trailer that looks nothing more than a flat-bed on the road.  I’m no sissy when it comes to pitching a tent, but with kids and a wife now to accommodate, the pop-up is seemingly the way to camp.  And the there was CJ’s Lance camper, which even boasts a satellite television.  And when hauled a Ford F-450, it’s quite an impressive sight.  Complete with CJ’s own Honda generator and Dana’s motor home, it was becoming more like relocation than camping.

Day 1 would soon close out, but not before we hit the local diner and not before we had our first incident of the trip.  Across from the Trading Post is the Nugget Café.

They don’t serve alcohol, but on this night allowed Joe to bring his own Corona’s to wash down our meal.  I was starving since we skipped lunch during the drove in.  We all rode in together for the cafe, but upon arriving CJ, Jon, Gary, and Dana were no longer just behind us and were missing.  We speculated that they took a wrong turn and got lost or someone had a breakdown.  The latter would sure be fuel for fire as there’s a fierce rivalry between Joe, a big Yamaha proponent, and CJ, a Polaris loyalist.  Though all of it boiled down to friendly, manly banter of whose rig is better made, the trash talk is nonetheless hilarious to the bystander.

After waiting almost 30 minutes in the diner, we see Dana, Gray, and Jon pull up… with CJ riding on the back of Jon’s Yamaha!  Oh the humility… and the gut busting laughs we had as Joe rips on CJ the moment he entered the café.  And with Jon being another Yamaha dude, CJ was out flanked.  No need to feel sorry for CJ, though.  This old-man can handle his own – he can eat it as well as he dishes it out.  And when all else fails, CJ always has his favorite come back, “If you ride as hard as I do, you’ll have breakdowns too, ” which is usually followed by his contagious laugh.  After all the bantering subsided, we finally got our meal which was served by our lovely waitress, Trish.

Over dinner, CJ tells us about the damage – a bolt had come loose that was holding one side of the right-rear A-arm. Worst yet, the bolt is lost and without a parts store within 100 miles, we were almost certain his rig was done before it even got started.  But the stars must lined up for CJ this evening.  A kid working outside the Trading Post just happened to have the keys to the ATV rental shop, which was already closed for the day.  And if that wasn’t enough, inside the shop was just the bolt that was needed.  But CJ was still deep in the woods before he can get his rig on its wheels.  With the bolt out, the A-arm is pushed out of alignment by the strut and springs.  And without specialty tools to compress shocks, it still looked fairly dim that they would be able to align the holes to screw in the bolt.  Last I recall, two guys held the rig up on two wheels lifting one side to work on A-arm.  They used the limited tools we had, but between a ratchet and sockets, a hammer, and a break bar, the team got the holes aligned close, but not close enough.

In the dark with only the ATV head lights beaming on the job at hand and the mosquitos preying, things were starting to look grim for CJ.  I headed back to base camp partially giving up.  Base camp is above 9K feet and the cold mountain chill was setting in for the night, so I put my effort towards the camp fire.  It’d been a long day and I’m sure everyone would just love a hot fire when they got back with their defeat.  After I set the fire and an hour sitting and waiting infront of the warm fire, Alan and I heard the rigs inbound to base camp.  Surely we would see CJ once more backside on someone else’s rig.  But the first thing we hear is, “They fixed it!”

With a little MacGuyver ingenuity, they used a ratchet strap to pull and push the A-arm into position long enough to thread the bolt in.  We would have prefered to not have had the incident, but it sure proved to be an opportunity to work as a team, which in the end gave everyone another huge feeling of satisfaction.

[ Gallery, Tales from the Trail (ATV) Taylor Park ]

When it comes to golf, I’m pretty casual about it.  I did try getting serious once and admit I chased the idea of “being great at it” for a while.  But not long after the countless buckets at the range and small fortune spent on green fees, my lower back problem would soon put an end to the pursuit.  If only my body could keep up with my skills, I’d be a pro by now (ha!  Not really).  Sometimes it does seem to go like my father-in-law says, “go big, or go home.” And three years ago, I went home. I just about hung up the ole’ golf clubs relinquishing as a mere loaner set to an ex-golf mate.  Yet still, I couldn’t help but keep them from becoming another craigslist listing anticipating the day when the course would beckon me to frolic again on its fairways and greens.

And sure enough last weekend the course came a’calling.  My good friend Jeff was moving out of state and the guys wanted to do something to give him a proper send off.  With the recent, unseasonably warm weather, golf just seemed like a good way to have some fun and spend good quality time with friends.  Like Matt said, “You really get to know someone after playing golf with ‘em…”

It is still technically winter so the greens weren’t the greenest, but it was plenty enough for a bunch who hasn’t been out for quite some time, with me leading with a 3-year hiatus.  But that also meant the crowd was low and we’d have plenty elbow room to hack away.  And so our handsome 5-some headed for a 2pm tee-off on what turned out to be a beautiful, sunny Saturday afternoon.

[ From left to right: Jeff, Matt, Kris, Brian, Leo ]

I’ve known people to say, “I’m terrible at [golf], but I love to play…” There is definitely a certain euphoria about being on the fairway with comrades.  And for most with less than refined skills, scramble or “best-ball” really keeps the frustration meter needle in the fun-zone.  So in order to keep the spirit of fun and still keep it competitive, we employed a slightly different set of rules I devised and coined (pun intended!), Mulligan Tokens.

With a group of presummably ”shankers and slicers” and with varying level of experience behind the club, let alone the fact we were one too many of a foursome, the rules were intended to maintain the pace of the game and also level the playing field.  Here’s how it goes:

Each golfer recieves 9 mulligan tokens at the start of the game.  Use of the tokens is limited to getting yourself out of a “sticky” or “wet” situations and you would give the token to the player whose on the fairway or green, but whose position is the furthest from the hole.  At which point you can place your ball at the same position to take your next shot.  Stroke penalties do not apply when you use a mulligan token and the use of the token is completely at your discretion.

Scores are counted as usual, but at the end of the game… each mulligan token received from another player deducts a stroke from your total score.

Regardless of how long any of us had been off the club, it really did seem like riding a bike – you never forget the feel of the swing, although some of us, myself included, could have used the training wheels again at many points in the game.  I wasn’t sure how everyone took to the unfamiliar house rule.  All seemed hesitant to give out any mulligans tokens despite their less-desirable situation in the beginning.  For me, however, it didn’t take me long to hand out my first to Kris after the tee-off at hole #2.  And then again after my second shot on the same hole!  Here below at hole #3, we can see Jeff insistent to hold on to his mulligan tokens…

Soon, however, everyone started catching on that players who would have otherwise triple-boggied a hole are scoring only boggies and even pars with the help of their tokens.  Whether it was a slice, a hook, or a shank that plagued each player, it was enough to turn just about all us into “customers” [for better position] using mulligan tokens as currency.

In the end, I think the way we played the game served the original idea.  The total hack was kept at a good pace and maintain a score with some dignity.  The guy who can drive 300 yards straight didn’t worry about giving away tokens … but didn’t receive any either since his positions wasn’t the furthest back.  And perhaps it was the player who played it safe who benefited most from the tokens.  But most importantly, it really did add an element that added laughter at every mulligan token exchanged.

The final results goes as follows.  Matt proved to be one of the more consistent golfer that day scoring 52 all on his own – there were no Janssen tokens to be had that day.  But his long distance range also took him out of the running for tokens, so he received none.  Matt’s final score – 52.  Kris and Jeff was able to keep their score down to 53 using their mulligan tokens.  And coincidentally both received 5 tokens from other players.  Kris and Jeff’s final score – 48.  Brian managed to turn in a score 52 handing out his own tokens and receiving 1 during the process.  Brian’s final score – 51.  And for me… well it turned out I was the hack of the day.  I turned in a total score of 58 even with the help of 3 tokens that bailed me out.  But I did learn early to put away with the drivers and to stick with just the irons to play the 80 year-old’s game (as Brian puts it) – short, safe, and steady.  My strategy paid off and my terrible total score was complimented by the 7 tokens I did recieve from other players.  My final score – 51.  So in the end, I thought the tokens kept it well paced, leveled, and fun.

Those who couldn’t tee up with us, including Brandon, Karl, and Josh caught with us for dinner a local favorite send off spot at Texas Road House.  And later, we capped off the night with a show and a good doze of profanity and racial slurs with Eastwood’s new one - “Gran Torino”.  It was a good movie, but the harsh dialog was unexpected.

It was a beautiful day spent to celebrate a friendship and we’re all sad to loose some of its capacity in our lives.  We’ll miss ya Jeff … so it’s good you’ll only be four hours away!

[ Gallery, Mulligan Tokens ]

These three silly words pretty much sums up our recent weekend.  Consisting of a movie, a trip to the bug museum, and Parker’s birthday finale, this three day event was not from the ordinary.

Our weekend started Friday evening doing something we don’t often get to do – see a movie.  Jolie and I can’t remember the last time we saw the insides of a movie theater.  Though Friday night still didn’t change that, we did manage to see the inside of a small, grade-school type auditorium.  We would have been happy to have gone to a nearby multiplex, but we had a unique opportunity to watch an amazing film in an unusual venue.  A local church had organized a special showing for the community and when new a acquaintance gave us an invite, we just had to be a part of it.  It was held at a local recreation center and while we had to do without popcorn from pocket-emptying concession stands, we did have free child care at the facility.  This for a $2.50 per ticket donation, which also saved us from horrendous box office fees.  And still we got to enjoy a wonderful featured presentation – Fireproof.

We were unaware of the film when it debuted on the big screen, but now had a chance to see it with friends – Jeff and Tara; Brandon and Michelle – who all had chatted about it before.  Fireproof stars Growing Pains‘ very own Kirk Cameron and is a Christian relationship drama with a strong message – fireproof your marriage.  We thought how appropo it was to start off our Valentines Day-Weekend with a positive message.  It is a wonderfully produced film sure to revitalize your view of your spouse, if not save a troubled marriage.  And while we had Nina in the theater, she, along with the other infants in the audience, did well keeping their fuzziness to a bare minimum.  She did cry once or twice, but the real tears came from the adults, including myself, as this brilliantly written and performed film focused on marital issues that is sure to hit home with every couple.  Absolutely 2-thumps up on this one and a must see for any married couple.  And for those who were big fans of the 80’s sitcom, here’s your chance to see Kirk in the limelight again.

Saturday, Valentine’s Day, was a cold and damp one in our neck of the woods.  But that didn’t stop us from getting up early and making a day of it.  Again, it’s a rare occasion for us to go out for breakfast as a family, and it’s even more remarkable that we got ourselves, including a toddler and infant, out the door before 9am.  First in the agenda was IHOP – a favorite spot whenever the greasy-spoon appetite beckons.

One of Nana’s birthday present for Parker was a Vtech Kidizoom Camera – his very own digital camera. So we made sure he brought it with him to capture what’s to come in the day.  So while at IHOP, we asked him to shoot one of Jolie and I at the table:

All was well and harmonious as the kiddos were both keeping the fuzziness to a minimum – Parker ate his pancakes and Nina sat patiently in her car seat watching everyone else stuff their face.  Breakfast was short and quick.  It didn’t feel like we sat for more than 15 minutes, which was probably shorter than the wait for our seats in this busy and crowded morning.  But soon we were on our way to our next destination – Westminster’s Butterfly Pavilion.

The Butterfly Pavilion is a special place that Jolie and I have been waiting to share with Parker.  Along with butterflies, there are also various bug exhibits and aquarium inside.  One popular attraction is Rosie – the Chilean Rose Hair Tarantula – who is more than happy to crawl across your hand.  Though Rose Hair Tarantulas are commonly docile and mild mannered creatures, her size and hairy legs, let alone the fact that she is still a tarantula, will sure to test the arachnophobic in you.

The main attraction, however, are the butterflies.  I’m not talking about some fancy taxidermy, bug collection.  In fact, what stands opposite from the caged bug exhibits is a giant green-house adorned with exotic, tropical plants.  The humidity inside is much higher and you feel like you just entered the equator.  But in actuality, what you step into is a butterfly sanctuary.  In there is narrow path that snakes through the garden complete with a creek, bridges and ponds.  And everywhere you look – in front, behind, to your sides – are care-free, bobbing butterflies.  Brilliantly colored, you will see a broad spectrum of species both local and tropical.  There are both butterflies and moths in the bunch and the sizes of these scaled-winged metamorphoses range from small to large and even up to wings that can span the width of your palm.  There are inviting garden benches throughout where you can sit and enjoy the sights of these beautiful and delicate creatures for hours on end.

Our day was near perfectly planned.  We had been at the ‘Pavilion long enough to see the scheduled butterfly release – where they release newly hatched butterflies into the general population.  And after that, we said goodbye to the Butterfly Pavilion and onward to our 1pm reservation at a near by Hibachi restaurant for lunch inside the Westminster Promenade.

It’s another first time treat for Parker.  With the exception of Nina being startled and crying after the dazzling flame-up of the grill, everyone enjoyed the show.  Of course, it’s not the same when the chef isn’t actually Japanese.  I’m finding that the cook behind the grill is becoming less and less from the Land of the Rising Sun type.  It’s all good … but there’s just no substitute for that Japanese humor (even funnier when delivered with a Japanese accent).  Nonetheless, the food was just as good and the rarity of it all was cause enough for it’s novelty.  The best part was probably the price.  Jolie and I both had full entrees – she had the Salmon and Calimari and I had the Salmon and Chicken – while Parker enjoyed a dish of shrimp and veggie tempura.  Along with drinks (sodas), we got out of there paying under $42 (tip included).  Not bad for lunch and a show.

With a quick stop at the slab-creamery, Parker and I topped off our meal with yummy ice cream.  It had been a great day for us.  There were many first and certainly for Parker.  And for Jolie and I, it’s just refreshing to experience a family day like this.  You never know what kind of kids your kids will be on any given day.  So before we pulled off the driveway that morning, we said a little prayer.  It really feels like our prayers were answered … and then some … because if that wasn’t enough, we all even got to take naps after arriving back at home.  That’s right … even mom and dad.

So how many birthday cakes does it take to celebrate a three-old’s birthday?  Well … I guess three - three separate songs for three separate cakes.  I suppose it’s not too uncommon.  On the Sunday just before his birthday, we had a cake and sang happy birthday with our church family.  And on the day of, another cake and another song with close friends and neighbors Denise and Scott who are like aunt and uncle to Parker.  And then finally… the big bash.

So on Sunday, we were out of the house again to meet our 2pm appointment with Chuck E. Cheese.  Just like any kid, Parker was a bit intimidated by the furry guy in the rodent suit, but he eventually warmed up to him.  For the most part he didn’t pay too much attention.  We both had pockets full of coins and plenty distractions  in the arcade, pit-stopping only for pizza and pop from time to time.  But eventually, Parker’s last happy birthday song for the year would come.  This time via a huge room with other birthday celebrant backed up by the staff, music video and all the lights and glitter that comes with whole Chuck E package.  Chuck E. Cheese is a place where a kid can be a kid and I really hope Mr. P had a memorable good time.  But after getting the bill for the hour and half party consisting of only five pizzas and bottomless drinks … I’ll soon be calling this place the rat trap.

[ Gallery, Fireproof Butterflies & Chuck E ]

If you do … then you’re probably ok. Chances are though, if you even know what gluten is … then you or someone you know has an intolerance to a particular wheat protein – gluten.  The intolerance can have symtoms ranging from minor allergic reactions to full blown and serious health issue they’ve wrapped up and labeled Celiac Disease.

But don’t take my word for it … I’m no expert on the subject.  And I don’t think I have the intolerance, but I can’t be too sure.  It’s one of those little less known things that effects more people than people know.

But again, don’t take it from me.  The only reason I know what gluten means is because I know someone who really champions this health issue.  And for my friend Julie Luse, this past week marks a milestone and the culmination of hard work and perseverance.  Last week she debuted the publication of her magazine – Delight Gluten Free.

It is really very cool to see something go from a dream to reality.  And no one is more deserving than Julie.  I feel so honored to know someone so passionate about something that afflicts so many and sincerely want to make a difference.

So check it out for yourself.  The print publication is accompanied by a wonderful and comprehensive website that I’m sure will be a beacon for those afflicted and/or involved with the cause:

www.delightgfmagazine.com

I still don’t a whole lot about gluten, but I do know Julie and her cooking.  And since her boys (hubby and son) are both diagnosed with the disease, it’s an all gluten-free household at the Luses.  I gotta tell ya… after you’ve had Julie’s cooking, it’s gonna have you saying …

“If this is gluten-free … then I wanna be gluten-intolerant!”

When you don’t have any sand, sometimes snow works just as well.  A light dusting that morning didn’t keep Parker indoors.  In fact, a week ago I was out shoveling (what little came down the night before) when Parker came running out with truck in hand.  And I thought to myself, “Great idea!”

Later … after the driveway and side walks were cleared … we decided to make it just like another sunny afternoon and head over to the park where Parker got some much needed energy out … and ride some fresh powder on the slide.

[ All-Purpose Snow Gallery ]

Well … that atta be the last of the Christmas decorations.  Taking’em down definitely feels more like a chore than putting’em up.  But with these last pieces of Christmas adornments tucked away, the holiday is officially over.

I suppose it’s a bit late by most standard, but Jolie and I really wouldn’t know.  That’s because this past holiday was the first time Jolie and I really decked the halls.  In the seven years we’ve lived in Colorado, we’ve only been home for two of it.  And this year, thanks to our friend Michelle, we were inspired to dress up our home … and not only with the holiday spirit, but also with some long over due decor.  Our new favorite home-stuff-store is Gordman’s … thanks Michelle!  With our drabby walls finally dressed with framed photos, ledges and more pictures of our family and accents of the season throughout, we  fell in love with home all over again.

Speaking of our holidays, let me just finally report that we had a terrific one.  We passed up on travelling this season mainly because of our little one, Nina.  And in fact, the first time we stayed home was due to Parker - Jolie was way too pregnant with him then.  But because we stayed home, this holiday was pure relaxation.  My employer shut downs for the stretch between Christmas and New Year.  This year that amounted to almost 2 weeks of company paid-holiday, which in itself was a sweet deal.  But instead of using up that time exhausting ourselves in the usually busy family visits in L.A., we stayed put and let family come to us.

Our usual 2 weeks worth of packing, dealing with airport security, and getting in an ever-so-cramped economy flights is one thing.  Throw in a toddler and an infant takes it to whole ‘nother level.  And for us, landing in L.A. is just the beginning of the rat race.  From there, Jolie and I are soon racing between my folks in Pasadena, Jolie’s mom (and our base camp) in Chino Hills, and her dad in Buena Park … all conveniently located 45 minutes from each other – give or take an hour depending on rush hour.  It really does seem like traffic in L.A. gets worst every year we visit.  There’s no longer a time of day or week where there isn’t any traffic, so you can imagine the compounding effect that can have.  And did I mention grandpa Bob in Palm Desert and my cousins in neighboring Phoenix?  You get the picture. 

This past holiday, however, Jolie’s mom and step-dad graciously came to us so we wouldn’t be completely without family. And since they’ve pretty much seen all there is to be seen in Colorado from previous visits, we didn’t have to do any Colorado touring for them either.  So again, it was a travel-free holiday that everyone simply enjoyed.  The main highlights were sleeping in, taking naps, walking around the block, taking photos of the kiddos, and greeting neighbors I haven’t chatted in months.  It was doubly pleasurable for me with grandparents to preoocupy both the wife and kids allowing me to sneak away from time to time!

With Parker now at an age where he can appreciate and understand things more, the timing was perfect.  We got to do some of the traditions that most families with young ones do.  For instance, Parker helped mom bake cookies for Santa – placing a few on a plate under the tree with a cup of milk.  Also, we waited for Parker to go to sleep before letting out all the gifts and placing them under the tree. 

There was even Parker’s “My first Scooter” – a big, red, scooter by Radio Flyer placed next to the tree – assembled with a big bow on top.  It was cliche, I must admit, but it was a just good fun for us to do.  Admittedly and shamelessly, there was a small fortune of gifts under the tree with doting grandparents and all.  But to see Parker’s face light up Christmas morning was priceless.  It was, for all intent and purpose, his first Christmas morning.

It does make me a bit sad to have to take down the decoration, especially the pre-lit garlands above the kitchen cabinets that added a warm touch and soothing, alternative lighting.  And there is still the chore of  sorting and boxing all of it.  But before long, I hope to have’em out of the way and in the garage storage where they stay dormant and unseen for the next ten months … until the season arrives again.

… well may be nine at the rate I’m going.

[ Undeck The Halls Gallery ]

No … that’s not a pimple I popped, but rather the result of me popping a few high caliber rounds earlier this afternoon.  And this scratch, which you can hardly call a flesh wound, isn’t from some scary mishap like a stray bullet or a ricochet … nor was it from something dull like running into a tree branch.  I’m sure for rifle enthusiast this is probably a familiar sight.  But for those who might not be as familiar, this is what happens when a 132 grain, 270mm caliber round recoils the rifle scope into your head.  Ouch!

I don’t own a gun, but nor do I shy away from the chance to shoot some lead.  And because of my lack of rifling time, I committed the one rookie mistake of being too close to the scope.

It was an unexpected event when my friend and colleague, John, popped his head over into my cubical and said, “Hey!  Wanna go shoot some guns?!” It’s unprecendented for me – shoot guns for lunch.  But with near by Left Hand Canyon and National Forestry, it certainly was do’able.  And so after a quick drive through McDonalds we found one of John’s favorite spots along the highway outside a cozy little mountain town called Jamestown.  We were up there long enough to set up targets and fire off more than a hand fulls of rounds before we were back in our cubes an hour and half later.  You gotta love living in Colorado!

Firing my second round is what sent the scope plowing into my brow.  There I was trying to line up the sight and target and didn’t realize how close I was to the scope itself.  A rookie move, I admit.  But rookie or not … I was a pretty good shot on this beautiful, sunny, Friday, winter afternoon.  Temps got into the 50’s today and it was too pretty to be inside anyway.  So the timing couldn’t have been better.  And when you checkout the three bulls-eye I clocked in today – that’s me on the bottom – you may not be necessarily talking rookie.

Though this was only at about a 60 yard range, it’s still not bad for someone who’s last time shooting a gun was back in 2005 (Guy’s Weekend at Joe’s Cabin 2005).

This bump on my head feels bruised.  But it’s a good reminder of the force and power of a gun.  John says my little mishap is nothing to be embarrassed about.  “We’ve all done it at least once …” he noted.  Perhaps it some sort of rite of passage. I still don’t own a gun and I likely still won’t anytime soon.  But every time I get back from one of these excursions, I’m left itching to change that.  One thing I do know is I thoroughly enjoyed it.  And if there’s anything I enjoyed more than pulling the trigger, it’s the thought of knowing this is how I spent my lunch break today.  Uuuu-rah!

[ Lunch Time Rifling Gallery ]

The time came to leave.  It’s been a fine stay in this city by the bay.  The weather since I arrived has been inviting and the timing of my departure was seemingly just right.  It was a drizzly morning and the forecast seemed to be rain, rain, and more rain.  I came to do a job and seemingly got the job done right.  But along with the tasks at hand also came new acquaintances … acquaintenances I hope with grow into new working relationships and foster new opportunities.  And it wasn’t all business in this 5 day stay.  I was also able to spend time with a close cousin … good family time that was long over due.

It was a great change in scenery.  Driving along the many bridges that pulls the bay area together is an experience in itself.  I did manage make it over the Golden Gate bridge one more time.  This time we got a special treat as paramedics paused traffic to do a rescue at mid-bridge.  There we were at the crest and stopped with no car in front of us to block the view of the commotion on the curbside.  We couldn’t see what the emergency was, but enough to know it was someone in urgent need of medical help on the side walk.  We were there for several minutes and if the fire truck and flashing lights weren’t cool enough for my 8 year-old nephew and 5 year-old niece, the Coast Guard helicopter that dropped in and hovered next to bridge – just yards away from us - was enough to get my nephew to exclaim, “This is the most excitement moment in my life!”

And then of course there is the ocean.  I took Highway 92, the San Mateo  – a floating bridge that almost makes you feel like you’re walking (or rather driving) on water.  I used it to cross the bay and make my way into the east-side.  It was then I felt San Francisco’s welcome as it greeted me with the familiar scent of the sea.  I rolled down my windows, took a deep breathe and sighed, “Ahhh, I have arrived.”  I didn’t actually touch the Pacific this time around, but the varying sights of it during the crystal clear day from the vista point at Golden Gate to the foggy evening looking out from the wharf was enough for it to have touched me once more.

The trip was all around a pleasant one.  Not even the expected congestion and traffic that comes with a metropolitan was present.  My drive to San Francisco International was hardly inhibited by any significant rush hour even in the wet, morning drive at 7:30am.  Perhaps it was a fluke.  Or perhaps since it’s been so long since my last visit, even the slightest dose of San Francisco was enough to intoxicate me not to notice the minor unpleasantries.  Whatever it is, I could only wish that for all the souveniers I can have the one thing I wish I could do was bottle up a little bit of San Fran’ to bring home with me …

’til next time.