Yeah, that’s right, there are trolls guarding the pedestrian bridge over Foothills Parkway just a few hundred yards from my house. This story should give you a good insight to some of the characters that inhabit this fine town of Boulder. I consider these people to be my outdoor pets.

Today marked one year since I moved to Boulder, Colorado. Lots of shit has happened in the last year, and since almost a month has elapsed since I’ve posted a word on this site, I figure I’ll throw down a quick recap.

First off, I am really, really happy living and working here.

Brenda is finally back in Boulder, after spending seven weeks in Santa Fe working for the Santa Fe Opera as a costume draper. She did well, but it’s definitely better to have her here than there.

Some more good sunsets have happened; I have pics.

The drive back from Santa Fe was along route 285, which took us through some of the most beautiful country I have ever seen. After a whole year of living in Colorado, I found myself falling even deeper in love with this part of the country. The mountains and the valleys between them are simply awesome.

I’m back into cycling, a lifelong love, in a big way. I have acquired three bicycles since moving here; one, I ride every day, my on-one singlespeed commuter bike. I scored an Independent Fabrications cyclocross bike on eBay last fall, which is one of the best fitting, best riding bikes I’ve ever owned, but I don’t really ride off-road so it’s been collecting dust since I built up the on-one. Still debating whether to try and fit it out for road riding or just sell it (or start doing more trail riding). Recently I bought another bike on eBay, a vintage Eddy Merckx that I have since taken all my Campy parts from my Zullo and hung on that. It rides like a dream, and it’s a dream come true to finally own and ride a Merckx. (The parts from the Merckx (all Dura Ace) are now hung on my old Zullo frame, and that bike will likely end up on eBay craigslist soon. Wanna buy a 60cm classic steel road bike?)

I have added hiking to my list of hobbies, and it suits me well living out here. But camping and sleeping in the snow, something that everyone seems to do out here, is not gonna happen anytime soon. Hiking a high summit is on my list of things to do this summer, though.

Flying has taken a back seat to my other interests, but remains a deep-seated passion for me. The expense, the fact that I no longer own a plane and the fact that flying in the mountains will require a concerted investment of time and money that I don’t have to spare right now have conspired to put aviation on the back burner for me for the time being. But I get a kick out of watching the gliders being towed to the Front Range right in front of my office window every day, and ride my bike to the Boulder Airport to watch the activities there every once in a while.

I went for a bike ride today. Twenty miles or so, along Arapahoe and 95th Streets. Riding along 95th Street northbound, I looked west at the Front Range of the Rocky Mountains and tried not to cry or run off the road as I took in the majesty of the mountains and pondered the amazing fact that after spending years in New Jersey riding and racing road bikes and reading magazines and catalogs depicting riders enjoying this backdrop, I was actually here (on my Merckx!), barrelling down the road in the thin mountain air.

This is a good place to live. I’m happy to be here, and I’m happier that Brenda, Emma and I are all together again. Twelve months after arriving here, alone, with two suitcases and living in a hotel room, we own a condo here and Brenda & I watched the Folsom Field fireworks from our front porch with Emma blinking inquisitively from the other side of the screen door.

It’s all good.

At last, a quality sunset has graced the skies over Boulder. One of the things I loved about living in Santa Fe oh so long ago was the amazing sunsets that were an almost daily occurrence. Usually in the afternoon the sun’s rays would have spawned a good thunderstorm, and the scattered clouds left in its wake would become the perfect reflectors of the setting sun’s rays. It seems that Boulder is almost too clear, its skies almost always devoid of those great puffy cumulus clouds that are a requirement for a quality sunset.

But today we had three storms in town, the result of the brutal heat and relentless sun we’ve been experiencing, no doubt. These storms left behind a ragged collection of clouds and overcast right through ‘till sunset. And as the sun went down, the low angle rays caught the edges of clouds and bounced off the overcast, rendering our living room in an eerie orange glow that brought me outside, to this:

Tonight’s sunset was, without a doubt, the best sunset I’ve seen in Boulder since moving here.

P.S.
Speaking of Santa Fe, I was there again this weekend, where Brenda & I celebrated our belated anniversary. We ate dinner at the Santa Cafe, a joint that was beyond reach of two apprentice/staff opera people, but now was more doable. We stayed at the Inn on the Alameda, again enjoying the life that all Opera apprentices deserve but cannot afford. And yesterday was truly hump day, in that it marked the exact halfway point of Brenda’s contract; she’ll be home in Boulder by July 4th (which will also be my one year anniversary of being a Boulder resident).

A year ago, I would have been affected by this: “Power Failure Snarls Commuter Traffic”

A year ago, I would have been one of those poor bastards shuffling along for a MILE to get to some other mode of transportation, cursing the whole way. A year ago, today’s latest regular dismal failure of the northeast corridor railway system would have likely hatched a profanity-laden tirade about how shitty my day was, followed by several gin and tonics.

But today, I rolled out of my house and took pictures of the goats (yeah, that’s right, goats) trimming the field across the street from my house, and arrived at the office 5-10 minutes later after dodging prarie dogs on the bike path and watching the occasional hawk.

So instead of complaints, you now get gloating. Sorry about that.

Brenda has been busy working a couple of jobs, and I was fairly convinced that this weekend she’d be working all weekend. So when I hiked up to Bear Peak via the Fern Canyon Trail yesterday, I really didn’t mind that my knee joints were solidifying as I sat on the couch last night. I figured I was done with physical exertion for the weekend. Imagine my surprise when Brenda emerged from her shop last night, having completed all tasks, and was all excited about going hiking on Sunday (today).

We’ve been meaning to summit South Boulder Peak for several weeks now, ever since we did Bear Peak for the first time last month. Weather and work have conspired against finally tackling the final summit of the nearest Boulder peaks, but today was the day.

We drove down to the South Mesa Trailhead, just south of Boulder and headed on out. We took the Homestead Trail to the Shadow Canyon Trail, and commenced climbing, and climbing and climbing, and climbing….

At one point, you reach a saddle, where you can hang a right and head for Bear Peak, or a left, and head for South Boulder Peak. The view at that point is already amazing, but we knew that more awaited us. Since we’d both already been to Bear Peak, we hung a left. There was about 500 feet remaining to the summit.

On the way up this last segment, we passed a trail runner on his way down from the peak. These people run up and down these trails, and my knees are still asking me tonight: “daddy, why do those people behave the way they do?” I have no answer.

Just shy of the summit, we were greeted by a huge pile of boulders and a couple of hikers just coming down from the top. “You have to climb the rocks!”, they said. No shit. Brenda & I stowed our trekking poles and crawled along the rocks to the summit. Here’s the view:

I have to say, I really like this local Boulder peak. I really think that it’s better than Bear Peak, which affords 360-degree views. A full panorama is nice, but Shadow Canyon is an awesome challenge, with great views along the way, and South Boulder Peak features amazing views with more dramatic vistas; there are plenty of perches on South Boulder Peak where you can look at the Continental Divide, and look down at your feet and stare in to a canyon that is three thousand feet below you (where you were just a few hours ago):

The hike down was accelerated due to an advancing storm, but I think that whatever speed I descended the peak today would not have mattered; between yesterday’s ascent and today’s, my knees and feet have been pounded more than they ever have. The views at the top(s) were worth it, but I’m quite certain that tomorrow I’m gonna be a hurtin’ puppy.

(Galen, if you’re reading, my FKT for Bear Peak via the Fern Canyon Trail is now 1:25.)

This evening Brenda & I went to hear Paul Rusesabagina speak at the University of Colorado’s Macky Auditorium.

Mr. Rusesabagina was the hotel manager at the Hotel de Mille Colines in Rwanda, a country that tomorrow will mark the twelve year anniversary of the beginning of the horrific genocide that rocked the nation.

In the spring of 1994, over the course of 100 days, nearly a million human beings were hacked to death with machetes. The story is a long one, and I recommend you read about it.

Mr. Rusesabagina was portrayed by Don Cheadle in the movie “Hotel Rwanda”, a film that awakened my interest in this sad chapter in human history and spurred much reading on my part. The sad thing is that nothing has changed. The same thing is happening in the Sudan right fucking now, which he pointed out.

Mr. Rusesabagina had a thick accent and the sound quality was not great, and he essentially recounted the story of his experience in Rwanda in 1994, so the presentation was a little tough to get through but it was fascinating to hear this awful story told by the protagonist in person. Unfortunately, there was also an annoying bitch seated in front of us who kept fidgeting and sending text messages to her likely equally vapid friends throughout the evening. It was a sellout crowd, and it really bothered me that this whore was taking up space — for free with her CU student ID, most likely — when someone who actually gives a shit and has a fucking clue about what happened in Rwanda could have been there paying attention and not breathing our fucking oxygen.

I’ve bitched about the Rwandan genocide on this site in the past here, here and here, and have read several books on Rwanda since. Hotel Rwanda was a great film because it moved me off my ass to learn more about the genocide. If only it inspired more people, maybe something besides killing would be happening in the Sudan right now.

Paul did a great thing in 1994 and I’m glad to see he’s able to spread his message. I also see that he has an autobiography coming out, which I have read excerpts from, but I think people are better served by reading about General Dalliare’s experience (he includes Paul’s valliant efforts) and Gourevitch’s excellent reportage. No offense to Mr. Rusesabagina, but it’s pretty damned difficult to write an autobiographical account of his efforts without sounding self-serving.

Suggested Reading
www.darfurgenocide.org

Rwandan genocide reading list (in order of preference):
We Wish to Inform You That Tomorrow We Will be Killed With Our Families
Shake Hands with the Devil
Conspiracy to Murder
Eyewitness to a Genocide
Machete Season
Season of Blood

This past weekend Brenda & I hiked up to Bear Peak, one of the three major peaks in the immediate vicinity of Boulder. It was awesome.

Last weekend we had hiked to the top of Green Mountain, and I thought that was gonna be it for difficult hikes for a while, but for some reason Brenda was very excited about doing Bear Peak this past weekend, so far be it from me to decline. I’m still sore from it, but it was great fun and worth every step.

We took the Fern Canyon trail to the summit, and this is a steep ascent (I checked with some people from work, and apparently this is suitably hardcore). In just over two miles of walking, you ascend about three thousand feet. At the top you face a largish pile of boulders that you have to scramble across to get to the very top, and once at the summit you have a 360-degree view of Colorado. We sat up there for half an hour in raging wind, taking in the view. It’s like flying.

The view below is looking north from Bear Peak; the big bump in the foreground is Green Mountain, and to the right of that is north Boulder; to the left, the Continental Divide. This view gives you a good sense of how Boulder is tightly nuzzled against the foothills of the Rocky Mountains.

I kept looking east and west, east and west, marveling at the difference between the interminable flatness of the midwestern plains that form one edge of Boulder, and the craggy rocky majesty of the Rockies that form the other. Here’s Brenda against the eastern plains, with Denver and its surrounding suburbs visible:

We decided to descend the same way we ascended, even though that meant a really steep, knee-busting grind to the bottom. I want hiking poles now. I’m still sore, but it was worth it. I still can’t believe I live in a city where we are a mile away from trailheads that lead to such amazing views.

When Garmin’s G1000 “glass cockpit” instrumentation system came out last year, I sort-of did a “whatever”. At the time, I still owned niner-three-fox, my beloved little 1966 Cessna 150 with basic cockpit instrumentation (and my handheld Garmin 196 which was impressive enough). The G1000 is something on the order of a $60K option on new aircraft, and I figured I’d never fly behind one of those. Hence my blase attitude about how cool they may be.

Boy was I wrong.

On Saturday, I got checked out in another aircraft available for rent over at Aviation Services, the local airport FBO. Sure, it’s just a 172, but sitting behind a G1000, wrapped in a shiny new panel with that aircraft grey paint (on a leather seat that still smells like new), I felt like a jet captain.

The G1000 incorporates just about all of the old traditional flight instruments, navigation and communications radios, GPS with moving map, terrain and traffic awareness, and rolls them into two large, bright displays and a central control panel. What’s more is that the traditional “six pack” of primary flight instruments (airspeed indicator, attitude indicator, altimeter, turn coordinator, heading indicator and rate-of-climb indicator) has been distilled into one cohesive display that shows those six pieces of information — and a whole lot more — in a single presentation right in front of the pilot. If you get lost, run out of fuel or fly into something with all this info, you suck.

Weather and schedules meshed once again and I booked 914DB for an hour so “fam flight”, or familiarization flight. I’d downloaded the manual for the G1000 installed in Cessna Aircraft (called the “NavIII package”, which is marketing-speak for sixty thousand friggin’ bucks), and read about 200 pages of knob twiddling factoids, realized I had half a manual to go, and went to bed.

Saturday dawned sporting an uncharacteristically overcast sky, and I initially thought I may not get to fly. But the Boulder Airport AWOS was reporting a 1500’ ceiling over the airport — just high enough to legally launch — and the weather to the north at Greely was already burning off. So, off we went.

It’s still a 172, the same type of plane I did all my primary training in, but there are a few differences. The extra 20 horsepower in the SP model is welcome, the ten extra fuel drains (the result of some bullshit court ruling and too many lawyers in general) are not welcome. But the big difference on the preflight checklist is all the extra steps directly related to the G1000. There is a battery backup system that can power the unit in the event of a total electrical failure — this is nice, since everything is on that damned G1000. So, we test that. And we make sure that the avionics bay cooling fans are working; you have to shut off BusA just to hear the BusB fan in the rear of the plane; this stuff gets hot. But all in all, it’s not too much more to worry about and it’s damned fun working with brand-new equipment — 914DB has 340 hours on the hobbs meter since new. Most planes I fly have thousands of hours on them.

After a little button pushing and knob twiddling to make sure I knew how to accomplish the basics, my instructor and I launched into the grey. The temptation to gaze at that panel is strong, but I managed to fly like I was taught by looking out the damned window, stealing occasional glances at the panel to confirm all was well, but also to just marvel at how inteligently the display is designed. After a few miles or so a hole in the overcast revealed itself, so we climbed up through it and were bathed in sunshine and smooth air, with a fabulous view of the mountains. (Once again, I have nothing but shitty pictures to document my aerial explorations. I will get better. I promise.)

Some maneuvers, stalls and steep turns, and a few touch and goes at Longmont later, and it was back home to Boulder. Another plane at my disposal now. Next up, mountain flying instruction!

P.S. The altimeter reads =~ 7,800’; Brenda & I topped that today — under our own power, no less — when we climbed to the top of Green Mountain, 8,144’ above sea level! Even saw some hawks doing their thing in the canyon as we started down.

This weekend, the second annual Boulder International Film Festival hit town, and Brenda & I took full advantage, taking in two feature-length films and watching a program of short films yesterday afternoon. Everything we saw was shown at the fabulous Boulder Theatre, a quirky old joint downtown with a great old marquee, uncomfortable seats, and a full service bar. Boulder does everything differently.

Friday night we saw “C.R.A.Z.Y.”, which was a great coming of age flick about a whole family, really, but centered on one son and his homosexuality. It was a fantastic ensemble cast and was one of those performances that are all too rare these days, an entire cast that worked well together. The actress who portrayed the mother, Danielle Proulx, was brilliant, as were the two actors who played the main character at various stages of his life. We were treated to a live appearance by Ms. Proulx after the film, but unfortunately she was barraged with Boulder intellectuals each trying to outdo one another with arty film questions, or addressing Ms. Proulx in her native French Canadian tongue. Annoying .

Yesterday’s short film program was marginally entertaining, one standout being a humorous adaptation of “West Side Story”, re-set in Israel, with the Sharks and the Jets replaced by workers at the Hummus Hut and the Falafel King, and an impossible love story between the pretty Palestinian and the handsome Israelli checkpoint guard.

Ironically enough, that short film was followed last evening by “Diameter of the Bomb”, a sad documentary that explores in detail the aftermath of a suicide bombing on the 32A bus. The music was fantastic, the interviews gripping, and the forensic footage - including what remained of the bomber’s head - shocking, if not somewhat predictable. The interviews with the bomber’s family offered a view of “the other side of the story” that we never get on western television. A very interesting documentary, and I was struck by the silence of the crowd as we exited the theater. I like to see movies like that.

There are plenty more offerings today, the final day of the film festival, but I think we’re movied out at this point.

Well, at long last, I have finally flown around in sunny Colorado. In July of last year, I sold my beloved Cessna 150, knowing full well that the little 100HP plane would not be terribly useful in the high country of Colorado. I also sorta put all aviation on hold, as there was a bit of financial uncertainty involved with moving 2/3 of the way across the country and buying a new house. Besides, I was getting my cycling fix. But ever since arriving in Boulder, I have thought about flying. The local airport is only three miles from my house, and the glider towplanes fly over my office every day. The scenery of Colorado’s front range is breathtaking, and I’ve been thinking about what it must be like to view it from the air.

After a false start last week, where I had a plane and instructor booked but had to sit on the ground and watch the windsock point straight out, I woke up this morning to calm winds and incredible visibility. It was time to get back in the air.

I met my instructor and after a preflight we hopped in and fired up. After the run-up, I got an intro to leaning for performance at altitude, something I never had to worry about down at sea level. After that, it was time to fly. The goal was to fly around, get familiar with the local area, and get acquainted with flying at altitude, where some things work a little differently.

We climbed out to the east, and I demonstrated some maneuvers such as slow flight, steep turns and stalls, all the while making our way to Platte Valley airpark for a touch & go. My first landing at altitude was… pretty straightforward. Your groundspeed is higher than it is down at sea level, but it actually feels more comfortable for some reason. But the runway sure does fly by, and planning and airspeed control is definitely more important than ever up here.

After Platte Valley, we headed oer to nearby Erie Municipal for another couple of landings. From there, it was up to Longmont’s Vance Brand Airport, and them back to Boulder Muni for what was supposed to be a full stop landing but ended up being a go-around following a too-high approach.

All in all, I flew OK, and the instructor felt the flying was solid enough to wrap up my biennial flight review and sign me off to take the plane out solo from now on! So after a six month dry spell, I am once again kicked from the roost and am looking forward to soaring above Boulder. The challenges of the mountains are the next task.