On the Road

I suppose I could go on about our mass migration across three continents, three US states, six or so US cities, a dozen or so towns, and several thousand miles as some sort of a life-altering ramble, a soul-searching journey where I shed all of my life's inhibitions and embark upon a new paradigm of frenzied love and crystal clear vision. I can't, though. I ain't no tourist and this ain't no vacation. It's hard work and we're all a little tired and freaked out.


Our itinerary is/was something as follows:

Fly to Boise, Idaho from Santiago, Chile via Atlanta and Salt Lake City (approx. 22 hours from door to door). In preparation for other parts of the trip, drive back and forth several times from Boise to the ranch near Carey, Idaho (2.5 hours one way). Drive from Boise to Elko, Nevada via Twin Falls, Idaho where we picked up a trailer to haul a bunch of our stuff (a.k.a wine) to take to Elko where we would meet some movers who would clean out our closets (a.k.a wine cellar) and all of the rest of our possessions to send to Geneva (approx. six hours). Drive back to the ranch (five hours). Spend Christmas at the ranch. Drive back to Boise to pick up a rental car (2.5 hours). Drive to Salt Lake City (six hours). Drive to Montrose, Colorado (six hours). Wendy and Hazel fly from Montrose to Washington, DC via Denver (approx. six hours) where they will stay for a week in preparation for Wendy's new job. Wendy and Hazel fly from Washington to Geneva via Frankfurt, Germany (approx. 10 hours). Hank, Annabelle Lee, and I fly from Montrose to Geneva via Denver and Frankfurt (approx. one million hours).

The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

It hasn't been all pain and no pleasure. I've mentioned a few of the highlights and there will be others. Most recently there was the night spent soaking in the Ouray Hot Springs with my sister, Wendy, and Hank as the snow flew around us and the canyon walls towered above us. Then, made possible by the kind generosity of my parents and the kind folks at Telemarktips (thanks Hollie!), Wendy and I were able to sneak away to Telluride for two days of skiing and eating and reminding ourselves what it feels like to act as husband and wife, friends and lovers, and not as business partners. We haven't skied alone together for a long, long time and I'm not even sure I can remember the last time. Germany/Austria 1995? It was fun. Here is the Polar Queen herself about to ski down Telluride's homage to our son:


Nice country. Views from the top of Bald Mountain that I climbed up a couple times (without the Polar Queen) to find some somehow untracked powder.


And the recently opened, snow dependent, Palmyra Peak area. While it wasn't quite ready for prime time yet, it still made for some nice dreaming.


So from here we'll roll on, always onward and, I think, upward.

At he junction of the state line of Colorado, its arid western one, and the state line of poor Utah I saw in the clouds huge and massed above the fiery golden desert of eveningfall the great image of God with forefinger pointed straight at me through halos and rolls and gold folds that were like the existence of the gleaming spear in His right hand, and sayeth, Go thou across the ground; go moan for man; go moan, go groan, go groan alone go roll your bones, alone; go thou and be little beneath my sight; go thou, and be minute and as seed in the pod, but the pod the pit, world a Pod, universe a Pit; go thou, go though, die hence; and of Cody report you well and truly.