Cloud Nine & Robin Eggs

1966

Grandpa Henry (Henry A. Beck) and I set out early that July day. It was my first, and unfortunately last, day with him and only him. Sure we had done lots together along with my brother and sisters but this day was for just the two of us. We were going to spend the better part of the day going on a hike.

Our journey was to take us from the Cloud 9 trailhead just up Castle Creek from Highway 82. The trail would take us up the backside of Aspen Highlands culminating at approximately 11,000 where the bottom of the “Cloud 9” chairlift is located. Most of the trail was cut through a large grove of Aspen trees and leaving them behind at around 10,000 feet, the only protection from the sun was a few Blue Spruce Trees.

The climb was much the same as in the old story, “The Tortoise and the Hare” where I would run ahead and then have to wait for him to catch up only to repeat the process numerous times before reaching the top. By the time we headed down I had no energy left.

Grandpa Henry took it upon himself to carry me on his shoulders all the way down, six miles in all. Along the way we would often stop to look at the flowers, animals and even a robin’s nest. On that day the nest was filled with three small blue eggs with yellow spots all over them. A few branches away the mother robin was making it very clear that our presence was not welcome.

At the bottom of the trail we drove back into town for the much-anticipated soda and candy that had been promised to me. At “Beck & Bishop” my prize awaited me. As Grandpa headed back to work behind the butcher’s counter I headed upstairs for a visit with “Bee” Zick, the store’s accountant, she had worked at the store for years and was a favorite of all the kids in the family. Within minutes I was fast asleep on the floor under the desk.

This day with Grandpa Henry is the fondest memory I have of him. Sadly he passed away about 9 months later in an automobile accident. The store was sold a year later and became Alpine Grocery before finally becoming Aspen’s local City Market.

Pies, Hares & Hot Springs

1960’s

Off Highway 13 north of Meeker, the non-descript County Road 17 heads off to the northwest to Juniper Hot Springs, also referred to as Maybell Hot Springs. The county road was always well maintained due to the coal mines and farms back in the valley. We usually arrived on this portion of the road after dark and in the winter the rabbits were very plentiful and they liked to dart out in front of the car to take advantage of the light provided by the head lamps. It was almost like a real life game of “whack-a-mole” only this time we were doing our best not to hit the critters.

Juniper Hot Springs had a number of small “joined” cabins as well as some private baths and a big outdoor pool. There was also a nice little café on the property. It was owned and operated by Stella & Luella Craig (sisters) until the late 1990’s when Luella’s health finally got the best of her and they moved into the big city of Craig, Colorado. The two sisters ran the pools, operated the cafe’; sold some wonderful ‘Juniper Burgers’ and rented rooms in the hotel cabins. Their pies were unmatched anywhere on Earth and I made a point of eating as much of them as possible.

We always traveled with numerous families and made the best of what the area had to offer. There was the open range managed by the BLM and the state which offered nearly unlimited room for snowmobiling and rabbit hunting. Between rides the kids would often go swimming and eat in the café.

On one particular trip Tommy and Genie Carter and their kids joined us. Sean Carter was my age and we had been friends for years. Our days were spent hunting, snowmobiling and swimming in the pool. We never had any money at that age but Stella and Luella just let us carry a tab which my father was sure to settle up before the end of the weekend.

Hunting was an adventure in itself as the rabbits were smart. I remember going off in to the back country tracking the rabbits. We would stop to take our shot and if successful we would have to set our guns on the snowmobile seats and trek through the deep snow to get them. Just as you would bend down to pick them up, they would run off. Knowing full well we could not get back to our guns fast enough, they were never to be seen again.

Frustrated and cold, Sean and I returned to the comfort of the café for more pie. By the end of the weekend I am sure we ate our weight in pies. Every vacation to the springs ended too quickly, but I am sure my father felt they did not end soon enough. It was years later that I learned Sean and I had eaten over $75.00 in pies that weekend, although I have my doubts on the final tab.

Juniper Hot Springs sat dormant for many years until recently when it was purchased by new orwners with big plans for the place. The new owners have kept the pool but most of the buildings were too dilapidated to keep and were subsequently torn down. They have plans on building a new resort there and I can hardly wait to take my kids to go see the place. It is available for a small fee to swim in the pool. No other services are presently offered.

Trouble by the Yard, a Garish Experience

1964 – 1974

Arriving late to school, dragging your feet when recess was over or being in the halls when you were not supposed to be was all it took. He sat in the chair perfectly situated to see down either hallway of the “L” shaped school. Dressed in his classic overalls, he waited patiently as he knew his chance was always just seconds away.

Frank Garish had numerous jobs through the years but I cannot imagine he enjoyed any of them as much as being the custodian and “hall monitor” at the Aspen Elementary School. He must have made a deal with Tom Sardy, the owner of Sardy’s Hardware, that included an unlimited, lifetime supply of the thickest yard sticks he could get his hands on. The average lifespan of these yard sticks could be measured in seconds once Frank pulled a new from the box.

Frank was loved by many in the community and even by most of his victims. After moving onto the middle and high schools kids would often drop by the elementary school just to say “Hi” to Frank. But as a student in residence he was a force to be reckoned with.

My friends and I would often hide out in the music room of the “old” library until we were sure the coast was clear. Liz Worden, my grandmother, and Francis Kettering, the music room librarians, were happy to see the students using the music room but little did they know we were just using it as a temporary “hide-out.” Invariably Frank would for whatever reason, alter his lunch schedule on that day and sure enough we would be trapped. As hard as we tried we could not outrun that “old guy” and the force of his yardstick. We preferred being sent to the principal’s office, but if Frank found you first that was never a necessary option as he took care of the “message of the day!”

Few students back then survived four grades of school without meeting the wrong end of Frank’s yardsticks. Daring students even tried to outmaneuver him by sheer numbers but that rarely phased Frank as he went after the slowest or weakest of the heard just like the lions of the Kalahari.

The rules have changed over the years and today Frank’s form of justice would not be tolerated. Back then it was all part of the Aspen Elementary School experience.

Blowouts, Goblins and a Swell Adventure

April 29 – May 3, 2009

The RV was packed and ready to go by 6:30pm. All the fluids had been checked and the tires were at 65 psi as directed by the manufacturer of the RV. We were off to our first stop in Grand Junction at Papa’s house up on Orchard Mesa (Palisade). With a quick stop at our favorite Starbucks in Lakewood, this would be a simple trip to Papa’s. Our route was going to take us through Clear Creek Canyon as it is much easier on the vehicle especially with the Jeep attached to the back and it saves on gas mileage.

We had made this trip many times before and it always took about three and a half hours to get to Papa’s. On this day it would get us there just in time for a quick visit with Papa and Ms. Marty and then off to bed.

About 17 miles from home, heading up Clear Creek Canyon just after the first tunnel it happened. With a load bang to announce the event, we had blown a tire. As luck would have it; not, we blew the left rear tire but since they are in pairs on the rear, it turned out to be the inside tire. That means both tires would need to be removed. We drove up to the next wide spot in the road and stopped there. I proceeded to get out all of the required tools and the spare tire. Only to find out that as equipped as I was, there was not a deep enough socket to remove the lug nuts from the rim. That of course was after it took me thirty minutes just to figure out how to get the hub caps, if you want to call them that, off. With the discovery that I was not going to be able to do this road side repair myself, Julie headed off in the Jeep to call AAA. She was gone about an hour and upon her return it took another hour for the service vehicle to show up.

Once help had arrived he quickly removed and replaced the blown tire with our spare. He also took the time to go around and fill all of the tires up to 80 pounds. With a signature and a handshake, we were back on the road after our 2 ½ hour ordeal. We arrived at Papa’s around 1:30 in the morning and promptly went to bed.

Day 2 – More of the same?

We were all up around 7:30 in the morning and headed in to make preparations for the day. Errands needed to be completed, new tires needed to be purchased and installed and the proper tools needed to be acquired. I had about 4 hours of work to do before we could proceed onto Goblin Valley. But first I had a tire with no air in it which had to be “aired up” before doing anything else. By 11:30 we had completed all of our tasks, loaded up the kids and headed out of town. We talked of meeting Papa and Ms. Marty in Green River for a late lunch, with Cindy leaving Palisade about an hour later. About seven miles into Utah heading west trying to make up some time to get to lunch before it turned into a dinner stop, Bang! It happened again, a blow-out. Although we had purchased three new tires earlier in the day, that was not enough to prevent another disaster. This time the tire was on the inside rear on the right side and it tore apart the wheel well in the process. We stopped on the edge of the highway as I prepared to use the new tools I had just purchased to effect the replacement. I figured we were in good hands now with all the right tools, a usable spare and we could be back on the road in minutes for a return trip to the tire shop in Grand Junction. I proceeded to remove the outer tire after jacking up the rear of the camper. Minutes after removing the rear tire, the camper shifted and fell off the jack. Luckily enough, the blown tire was still on the hub, although not secured. Our jack was not able to get under the vehicle where I needed but I had a smaller jack that I could use to lift it up just enough to get the big one under it once again. Once I had the camper back up where I needed it I had to remove the jammed tire from the hub. With a little ingenuity I got the tire un-jammed and proceeded to remove it when once again the vehicle shifted backwards. Although not all the way off the jack, the job of lifting the camper even higher was a difficult one. The jack sat at a slight angle, sunken about a ¼ inch into the pavement, it was going nowhere The rest of the task went smoothly, I was able to get two usable tires back onto the rear and we headed back to Grand Junction. We tried to call the tire shop to let them know we were coming but the cell service was too sporadic to complete the call.

We arrived back at the shop at 4:40 in the afternoon only to learn that they had one but not three of the tire we needed. With that news we were relegated to another night up on Orchard Mesa. I was instructed to come back in the morning and they could get us fixed. This trip was beginning to look like it was never going to go beyond Colorado, I felt defeated.

Day 3 – Goblin Valley, Utah here we come, with 6 new tires to get us there.

We arrived back at the tire shop promptly at 8:30 as instructed. Over the next two hours the tire shop replaced three tires, moved two from the front to the rear and checked the air pressures in all of them. While waiting for all the work to be done, we walked over to Enstrom’s candy factory a coffee and some exercise. On the way back we walked through a park with a playground and the kids did a “power tour” of the playground spending no more than a few second on each item being sure to do them all before Julie and I go to the other side. Back at the tire shop the work was just being finished with the Jeep re-attached to the rear, 80 Psi in each tire, we were ready to go.

As we passed the site of the previous day’s blow-out I must admit a little of my concerns of a successful trip were eased. The rest of the 130 mile trip from Papa’s to Goblin Valley State Park was uneventful. We arrived in one piece a day late and $700.00 poorer, but we had arrived.

Although it was mid-day by the time we arrived, we still planned on making the best of the day by going on a Jeep trip somewhere. With the camper barely leveled and setup we climbed into our Jeep and headed out, Papa, Ms. Marty and Cindy along with us in Papa’s Jeep. Our goal was to drive down Wild Horse Canyon to Coal Mine Road, across the Muddy River and ultimately to an old Mile that was said to have a lot of collectible Agate, Uraninite and Selenite. I thought this journey would take about an hour and cover 30 miles at best, I was wrong. The round trip was actually more than 70 miles. About 14 miles into our Journey while driving down a stream bed, we came across a spot where the canyon walls (about 30 feet tall) had collapsed due to the winter’s erosion and run-off. What was once buried was a great selection of Selenite “Utah Glass” and “Desert Roses” for out collection. The trip down to the old mine by Factory Butte covered fiver beds, Rocky terrain and even a barren expanse often referred to as a moonscape known as Splendid Valley. The trip to the mine was actually 28 miles. At that point we all agreed to go onto Hanksville and back up Highway 24 to camp. We got back around 6:00pm, just in time for a Spaghetti Dinner and drinks. The kids went off to meet everyone in camp and makes friends with them all. By the end of the day I was pleased we had actually made it here after all of our troubles.

Day 4 – Geodes, Mines and Hondu Arch.

It rained most of the night so I did not expect to be able to do our planned trip out to Hondu, sometimes spelled Hondoo Arch. As it turned out, the rain did not produce much precipitation and the roads remained largely dry. Our planned trip was to go out Temple Mountain Road to Red Canyon Loop. Follow Red Canyon Loop out to the Muddy River and then come back on McKay road back to Temple Mountain Road.

We started our adventure around 10:30 and knew we would be hard pressed to get back by 5:00PM. About 10 miles from camp was a turn-off to go to Interstate 70 and just past there is Family Butte. At the intersection of McKay Flats Road, Temple Mountain Road becomes Red Canyon Loop. Along the way we pass by Family Butte which is a very interesting rock formation. The next part of the journey follows a river bed in the Red Canyon. Our first stop was 23 miles into our journey to take a side road up to the old Red Canyon Mining Camp and the Lucky Strike Mine. We stayed at the mine for about an hour looking for rocks and minerals in the tailings pile. It was about time for lunch so we decided to proceed up to the mine on the hills side where we hoped to find geodes. The mine where geodes had been found before was about 26.5 miles from camp and was about 350 feet above the road. The hike up to the mine was about 1/3^rd of a mile vertical. Julie, Hunter, Kira, Cindy and I made the trek up and at first we did not see any of the geodes. As it turned out, they were in the soil that was most likely extracted first when the miners began they work. The tunnel itself did not go very far back into the hill, not that we were willing to go in much further than 20-30 feet. We began our descent with a bucket full of geodes totaling 50+ pounds. Along the way we found an area that was covered in orange colored stones. We filled the gaps in the bucket, our pockets and even a hat with these beautiful stones. At the bottom a well deserved beer awaited our arrival.

We proceeded on to the muddy river with stops along the way to check out some more mines, take a few pictures of Hondo Arch and inspect an old mining truck abandoned along the roadside. We arrived at the Miner’s camp along the muddy with 30 miles on the trip odometers. Just prior to reaching the muddy we passed a large abandoned Uranium mine which we decided to go back and explore. As it turns out, this mine was known as the “Dirty Devil Mine.” This mine had a number of entrances which we easily accessible. Kira and I took the time to go about 40 feet into the mine which was in surprisingly good shape with wide tunnels going off in three directions. Later Kira took Hunter, Cindy and Julie up to check it out as well. On our way back we continued on the Red Canyon Loop heading south-east. At some point the road changes names to McKay Flats but after 44 miles we met back up with Red Canyon Loop near the Family Butte. From that point we headed east back to camp. By the time we returned to camp we had driven 60 miles. With a bucket of Geodes and Orange rock, we had filled the day nicely and we were back in time for the Pot Luck and bon fire.

Day 5 – The Trip Home.

We took out time the next morning getting ready to head home. The kids busied themselves while I prepared the Jeep and Camper. Julie worked on some customer albums for a new customer and visited with a number of friends. We left camp around 11:30am and headed home. Our trip home was un-eventful as we arrived home around 5:45pm.

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Note: Goblin Valley, Utah is just southwest of Green River and just north of Hanksville. It is located at the leading edge of the San Rafael Swell which is a large “over thrust” rock formation in eastern Utah. It is a favorite playground for outdoor enthusiasts of all kinds and ages. We have been meeting there twice a year for about 30 years with friends and family from the Aspen area. Over time the family of friends has grown to include people from all over the world.

“Wrong Way” Corrigan & Shrine Pass

August 2008

There are times in life when taking advice from a friend is a bad idea no matter how good a friend or how reliable of a reputation they have. This is one of those times.

For months now a friend had been telling me that the Shrine Pass road from Red Cliff (off Tennessee Pass) to the top of Vail Pass was a really nice drive and just about any car could make the trip. On the way home this week we decided to take my friend up on the excursion. Picture this, a fully loaded Yukon XL (weighted down due to all the stuff in the back) heads out of Red Cliff after a nice lunch. Kids are in back watching a movie with Julie and I looking forward to being on a route we had never done before. About four miles up the road, which is an old logging road and well maintained, we come to a sign indicating that the Shrine Pass Road was to the left and Lime Creek was to the right.

With blind faith in what my friend, Dan, told me we went left. Bad idea, Dan is a very bad man! Within 300 yards we were heading up a narrow road, rocks the sizes of very large dogs and no way to turn around. I found myself driving a 14 foot car where I would think twice about taking my Jeep. But Dan said he had gone on this route numerous times and he drives a “citified” 4WD car. Another 400 yards and we were now on a piece of road that left me as nervous as I have ever been, scared actually. All the while trying not to show my fear to Julie and the kids. This Hell went on for two hours and 30 miles. As we came to the end of the trail we were met with a steep, muddy, rocky, very steep hill to climb out of. At the top of the hill was a pair of Hunters in their ATV looking at us like we were aliens or something… I suspect they were not willing to take their ATV on the very same road that a big, black Yukon XL had just gone on. (GM would be very proud.)

In the end, the trailer hitch was now missing all of its electrical wiring, there were new scratches down the side of the car and I do not even want to look at the bottom of the vehicle.

My next adventure will be to take Dan down the same path of Hell that we had just gone on. By the way, the “New” Shrine Pass Road is well maintained and poses NO risk for any vehicle made today.

Happy Trails!

Youth’emisms

As children evolve from a baby to adulthood, they go through the usual transition of getting a command of the english language, or what ever language they first learn to speak. During this transition, our kids just like any others, hear words and translate them into what they think they are. The following is a list of “Youth’emisms” our children (or us) have uttered over the years:

Fireman Station (Hunter) – Fire Station

Presents (Hunter) – While observing Bales of Hay in a field he proclaime dthem to be Presents (Liek Christmas Gifts). Hunter was 3 at the time.

Hottitidder (Hot-tituder) (Hunter) – Helicopter

Tsunami Trailer (Kira) – Sonoma Cutrer Wine

“Love Dirt” (Hunter) – The Dirt Found on a favorite Stuffed Animal, Pandi in this case

Icepopple (Kira) – Popcicle

“Thank you for the food we are about to joy….”) (Both kids) – Part of the blessing before a meal.

Airplane Port (Hunter) – Airport

Op-Op-A-Gunk (Douglas) – A request for a drink of any sort (water, milk…….), later adopted by my father and his friends as a request for a re-fill of their beer.

Cosico (Kira) – A place to buy stuff in large quantities at warehouse prices.

Frigerdrator (Kira) – Refrigerator

Mechidge (Hunter) – Message, His phone voice mail says, “…please leave a mechidge”

Home Box (Kira) – “A To Go” box or a “Doggie Bag” after a meal while dinnign out.

Humitate (Hunter) – to Meditate

To be continued…….

Geyser Goblins and the Tooth Fairy

“The case of Hunter’s missing tooth”

It was a beautiful spring day upon their arrival in Yellowstone National Park. Hunter and his little sister, Kira, had waited for this trip for months and everyone in their daycare classes knew every detail as they could hardly control their anticipation.

Their first day in the park was going to be a day of fun, learning and of course, geyser hunting.

Our first stop was at the West Thumb Geyser Basin. Although this basin does not have any active geysers, it does have lots of hot springs and a mile of board walks to investigate.

While running around on the boardwalks trouble struck. Mommy, Daddy and Kira had gone ahead to look at the next spring while Hunter stayed behind to look at the Surging Spring pool. While looking around, Hunter mistakenly pushed his tooth, which had been loose for weeks, and out it went. It fell down on the boardwalk and “just disappeared!”

But where did it go?

He heard it hit the wood but it could not be found. In a panic, he recruited his mom to help find it but she too could not find the tooth.

“But, mommy, what will the Tooth Fairy do if I cannot find it?” Hunter asked. Without an easy answer Mommy told Hunter to be sure to write the Tooth Fairy a note when he went to bed that night. That sounded like a good idea to everyone except Hunter.. “But Mommy, how will the Tooth Fairy find us here; we are not at home?” The only advice she could think of was to have Hunter wait until he got home in a few days and hopefully the Tooth Fairy would understand.

The rest of the week included hiking, geyser watching, ice cream, and wild animals. To Hunter that was all fun but his missing tooth was never far from his thoughts.

When Hunter got home later that week, he set out to craft the best note he could for the Tooth Fairy.

“Dear TooF Fiery my toof flue in to the giser win I wus woking. Love Hunter”

At bedtime the note went under his pillow in hopes of a response.

The next day, Hunter lifted his pillow and was disappointed to see that the note was still there. The tooth fairy had missed him.

“Hunter, wait! Did you look at the note” his father asked.

Sure enough the Tooth Fairy had come and left him a note along with the usual $2 bill. Hunter was so excited. He read the note out load to his father, then off to the kitchen to read it once again to his mother and sister. It seems that there was more going on back in Yellowstone than Hunter or his family knew.

The note from the tooth fairy explained everything:

“Dear Hunter,

Good News!

I found your missing tooth in West Thumb Geyser Basin in the Surging Spring next to the boardwalk. Luckily enough one of the geyser goblins, who are quite fun and a bit playful were hiding it from you when it fell out. I promised them some cool lemonade in exchange for your tooth and they agreed.

I am so glad to be able to add your first front tooth to my collection and I have left you the usual fee for it.

The goblins tell me that you and your family had a nice time in Yellowstone and they want you to come back as soon as possible……

Love,

Your Tooth Fairy”

Yellowstone is known for its rich history, water features, geysers, wild life and rugged territory, but no one knew about the geyser goblins. These fun loving, mischievous little creatures love the tourists and play tricks on them every day. If it weren’t for the crafty Tooth Fairy, Hunter would still be wondering what happened to his tooth and why the Tooth Fairy had failed to get his note.

The next time you are in Yellowstone, watch out for these little goblins and leave nothing to chance.

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Dooger, the Little Christmas Tree

2009

Every year families and individuals alike come to this quiet valley in search of the perfect Christmas tree. This story is about a little tree named Dooger and how he outsmarted the annual Christmas tree harvest with a little help from a friend.

Even pine trees have names, not the common names like Blue Spruce or Douglas Fir, but names just like you or me. Most of the year is spent enjoying the cool mountain air, providing shelter for the wild animals and visiting with the friends and family growing near-by. All of the trees feared the holiday time of the year but few ever spoke of it, hoping to once again avoid the saw or axe. They all had heard of what becomes of their friends, decorated with all manner of lights and pretty ornaments, and a warm place to be for the holidays. Yet, none of them wanted that fate.

Dooger was nearly big enough to be cut down last year but no one chose him much to his pleasure. But this year had been good, his branches grew out thick and he was at least two feet taller. In fact this year had been so good for Dooger that he stood out beautifully among his nearby friends and family. This, Dooger soon realized was not a good thing. Around September he tried to do everything he could to make himself look bad. When asked why, he said he was feeling a bit poor, one of his roots had run up against a big rock, which of course, was not the truth at all. Nothing he did would make his appearance change. He was a beautiful tree and he knew it. He even tried to grow faster and taller knowing that really tall trees are rarely taken but that only added to his beauty. At seven feet tall he knew he was in trouble.

Late November approached, the first snows had arrived and Dooger knew the time was fast approaching. The Forest Rangers had even erected a building just 15 feet away. This he knew was the start of the tree hunting season. The first cars filled with kids and adults alike arrived in early December. Dooger remembered the fathers with their big saws worst of all. These men meant business and Dooger knew it. On weekends a Forest Ranger even dressed up as a Bear named Smokey and visited with the children. Dooger knew the Rangers were there to protect them so he could not understand why they were letting people take trees.

One day a family approached Dooger, dad with his saw in hand. Marveling at Dooger’s beauty, they began to discuss whether or not he would fit in their living room. Dooger shook so hard that the needles began to fall off his branches. The Dad declared, “He must be too dry, we don’t want him” and they walked further into the forest. Later that day it happened again but this time when Dooger shook there were no needles loose enough to fall off, that trick would only work once. This time the Mom said he was too tall. Family after family took notice of Dooger but for whatever reason he was spared. The following weekend that same thing happened again, too tall, too short, too full, not full enough, Dooger it seemed was not going to be cut this year.

The final Saturday of the tree harvest had arrived and Dooger was feeling pretty confident he was going to be safe. He knew if he survived this year that he would be too big the following year and he could live out his time in the beautiful, Colorado Mountains. Then it happened. They pulled up in their big car with plenty of room for any sized tree on top. The kids jumped out to go visit with Smokey while the mom and dad began to scan the forest for that perfect tree. Dad spotted Dooger and immediately started to measure him up to see if he would be a perfect fit. Indeed he was. The mom approached asking him how he had found one so perfect, so quickly. As the dad got out his saw and tie downs the kids came running over.

“Daddy, Daddy is that our tree?” the little boy asked. “I think so, Hunter” replied the dad. “Daddy, It is so beautiful, but will it fit?” asked his little girl, Kira. “Yes, I think so Kira”, replied their Mother. Then their mom turned to dad and asked, “Are you sure we can take one so close to the building and road?” “I do not see why not” replied the father in a rather uncertain tone. “I better go ask” he said as he headed off to see the nearby Ranger. Dooger could see the Ranger and he was not happy with what he was seeing. In fact, not only did the ranger say it was OK; he even came to help the dad.

Dooger had heard the daddy say Kira’s name and he was going to do something that was forbidden in the tree world, he was going to ask Kira for help. Now trees do not have very loud voices, in fact they are so quiet that only the smallest of the forest creatures could even hear them but Dooger was desperate. As Kira ran by Dooger he reached out with his lowest branch and tripped her. Down she went in to a small pile of leaves and snow. Un-harmed, Kira looked back at the tree. She knew that branch was not there when she ran by, and yet somehow she tripped over it.

As Kira walked cautiously back to the tree to see how this had happened she heard a voice, “Please don’t cut me down.” Now Kira, at the age of seven was well aware of the fact that trees don’t talk, especially to people. As she started to walk away to go see what Hunter was up to she heard it again, “Kira, please don’t cut me down.”

This time she was certain, she had heard something. Very quietly, she walked back up to the tree and around to the back where no one would see her and she whispered, “What is your name?” Dooger could hardly control his happiness as he began to shake. Needles and small branches cascaded to the ground. “Dooger” he replied, hoping she could hear him. With that Kira let out a big scream and ran to her Mom. Dooger feared he had scared her away and did not know what to do. He had a new friend, a friend that could save him and she just ran away.

Kira told her mom, “We cannot kill Dooger!” “Dooger? Who is Dooger?” asked her mom. “That tree, the tree Daddy is going to chop down. Don’t let Daddy chop that tree down! There are lots more and besides, look at all the needles on the ground!” declared Kira. Just as the saw neared the perfect place to begin cutting, Kira cried out, “Daddy Don’t!” Not a moment too soon, he set the saw down and went to see what the problem was. “Why not Sweetie?” asked her Dad. “Daddy, the tree, Dooger, doesn’t want to be a Christmas tree; he wants to stay in the forest.” She began to cry as the worlds left her mouth. “Dooger, you named the tree Dooger?” he asked. “No, he told me that was his name or at least I think so.” “Now Sweetie, trees do not talk.” “I know, but I swear he told me his name was Dooger. He asked me not to let you chop him down and then I asked him his name” she declared. “Please don’t chop him down?” “OK, we will go find another tree. Now say good bye to Dooger” and off they went deeper into the forest. As each tree was considered, Kira asked them their name and none of them answered. As night fell with a nice tree on the roof of the car, they headed back into the city. As they pulled away, Kira yelled back “Merry Christmas Dooger!”

Each year after that until the kids had grown up and started families of their own they began every holiday season with a visit to see Dooger. Some years they even decorated him so that no one else would dare think of cutting him down. Many of the other trees took notice over the years and did what they could to avoid being cut down as well. And so goes the story of how the Trees learned how to outsmart the “tree hunters. “

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Catch Me if you Can!

Winter 1988

It was the winter of 1988, probably early February to be more exact. Julie and I had been dating for about six months and it was her second trip to Aspen. We were living in Long Beach, California, at the time and driving to Aspen took about 17 hours. I was young and foolish at the time so, the idea of leaving on a Friday afternoon, driving through the night to get there by the following morning was “no big deal.” We would end up leaving Sunday afternoon with plans on arriving back in Long Beach in time for work on Monday.

Unlike so many others, our weekend plans did not including skiing, we were going for our family’s favorite past-time, snowmobiling! By the time we got to Aspen my parents already had the snowmobiles ready to go. We changed into our winter clothes and headed off to the parking area for Little Annie’s road on the back side of Aspen Mountain. Our plans were to go up Midnight Mine Road to the top of Aspen Mountain and then head back across Richmond Hill to the base of Taylor Pass. I had been back in that area many times before and knew the route well. This would be Julie’s first time on a snowmobile.

Driving through the night requires a lot of coffee and I figured once we got on top of the ridge I would go on ahead and “take care of business; you know, see a man about a horse.” And so it began, I headed off to the east without realizing Julie was right behind me. Once I saw her I just figured I would go faster and get ahead of her.

30 miles per hour, then 40, 50, 60 and eventually 70 and I still could not shake her. “What was she doing?” She had never driven one of these contraptions before. Did she not fear death? In exasperation I came to a stop. When I walked up to her the expression on her face was priceless, the look of terror mixed in with relief. She did not realize what I was trying to accomplish and all she knew was that she (being a city girl) would keep up with me no matter what. She had something to prove and she did just that.

In looking back at it, I was pretty impressed that she could drive a snowmobile that well and that fast on her first time out.

Sweeping up after Norbert

1967 – 1968

Martin John Bishop, brother of Albert Bishop, started out in the building working as a mechanic for Natalie Gignoux and her Little Percent Taxi Company. Later he took on extra work when time and space permitted. Eventually “Martin John” ran his own shop renting the building from Natalie. It was located behind the Concept 600 Building on Spring Street and Rio Grande Place. Norbert Anthes was a mechanic working for Martin as well as a number of others including Mike “The Hunkie” Toth. My aunt and uncle, Shirley and Nelson Jr. Smith lived, in the two houses just to the east of the garage and I would often go hang out with Norbert and the other mechanics when my family was visiting next door.

Norbert had not been in the valley long at this point and yet he was already welliked and respected in the community and was considered a close family friend. Norbert was always known for his generosity, and I was often a recipient of it over the years. Sometime around 1967 Norbert offered me a job at the garage. I suppose deep down it was a favor to me but it also got me out from under his feet while working on the vehicles.

My job was to clean up the rags, sweep the floors and even put the tools away. Norbert always paid me at the end of each work day and the money was usually gone before I got home that afternoon. A pocket full of change is no match for a little boy who walked past The Peppermint Tree candy store, The Hobby Shop and Walt Matthew’s Drugs (now Carl’s Pharmacy) on his way home.

Norbert always made sure I had plenty to do and even took the time to teach me a thing or two. By the age of eight I was pretty good at changing spark plugs and oil filters on pretty much anything that came through the doors. I was also very accomplished at greasing the shocks, U-Joints and hubs, being mindful not to over grease them and blow out the seals. Many Friday afternoons were spent visiting in the parking lot as the mechanics and friends alike enjoyed their beers. I even got rides home on Fridays as my dad always had a keg of Coors on tap in his garage, and Norbert new that if he gave me a ride home a fresh beer would be waiting upon his arrival.

Sometime in late 1967 some rags and gas next to the furnace caught on fire and a blaze ensued. The building was not destroyed but most of the exposed insulation as well as many of the tool boxes along the walls were heavily damaged. Very few of Norbert’s tools survived the fire undamaged. Within a few weeks most of the damage was repaired, tools were replaced and it was business as usual. As for me, Norbert added to my days’ wages by sending home a burned wrench or socket every day for my growing set of tools. Over time I ended up with a large collection of tools many of which are still in use today.

Norbert knew how to take care of his friends. He was always willing to lend a hand and never expected anything in return. I remember a few years ago running into him at Cap’s Auto. He asked me about snowmobiling while I was in town and I mentioned that unfortunately one of them had been damaged and was un-usable. The next morning my friends and I were headed out for coffee when I noticed the snowmobile had been fixed. Norbert never said a word about it. Sadly, Norbert passed away a few years back. Aspen will never be the same without him.

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Month: December 2009