Indeeeeeed. Shrine Mountain Inn. Jay's Cabin. Thursday, Friday and Saturday. Cross country skied in (well most of us) with turkey, stuffing, squash, green beans, tons of eggs, oatmeal, brie, spinach, loaves of bread, condiments, winter gear, more warm stuff, slippers, bedding, ingredients for a French apple tart, for God's sake! Jay's cabin is an accommodating place for families with kids -- running water, flushing toilets, comfy mattresses, plenty of windows, nice dishes, wood for the fire. The four of us and two other families made this gorgeous spot up off Vail Pass our home for the weekend. I'm so glad we went. Maybe too glad, like I couldn't sleep glad. Or maybe I just can't sleep at 11,500 feet.
This was my first hut trip. Phoebe is 9 months old and Willoree 4 years old and although I'm used to things taking time, effort, etc. because adventure for four is such work when you get to the work part of it, I am still somewhat in awe at how much planning this ordeal took. I'm not very good at planning, but I enjoyed it anyways.
I don't particularly enjoy getting ready for car camping (which we do a fair amount of), or cooking/packing for festival weekends (annually, at least,) but -- staring at our strange Tetris-y piles of gear, used backpacks, goggles, etc. all over the house -- I came to enjoy planning this hut trip. The newness? Or maybe the immense challenge of wearing or dragging everything your family will need for three days up a long hill? Boundaries and edges, in all creative pursuits, make the processes more magical and interesting. Here I admit that I'm an editor, I love editing. Mostly other people's stuff. A bad habit -- ? I guess I have that kind of editing, revisionist, let me tell you what you just said in my own words kind of mind, even though I write unedited blogs like this one in a chop chop block annoying style and they're very run on sentence-y and probably choreful to read. Also I have gained a renewed appreciation for the guys in A Walk in the Woods.
I don't particularly enjoy getting ready for car camping (which we do a fair amount of), or cooking/packing for festival weekends (annually, at least,) but -- staring at our strange Tetris-y piles of gear, used backpacks, goggles, etc. all over the house -- I came to enjoy planning this hut trip. The newness? Or maybe the immense challenge of wearing or dragging everything your family will need for three days up a long hill? Boundaries and edges, in all creative pursuits, make the processes more magical and interesting. Here I admit that I'm an editor, I love editing. Mostly other people's stuff. A bad habit -- ? I guess I have that kind of editing, revisionist, let me tell you what you just said in my own words kind of mind, even though I write unedited blogs like this one in a chop chop block annoying style and they're very run on sentence-y and probably choreful to read. Also I have gained a renewed appreciation for the guys in A Walk in the Woods.
We are a CO family of four and we hadn't gone up to the huts yet! And now that's all changed. I hope this trip to Shrine Mountain is the first of many. I cherish great adventures into the quiet, snowy CO beauty that sticks it to my heart and soul every time. I am growing more in love with Colorado as the years pass. I sing here, Colorado sings back.
Photos below.
Thanksgiving meal arrival night. We didn't have to carry the cast iron. Man that stuffing looks good.
Leland kind of altitude weary, but that doesn't stop little children from pestering him but then looking real cute.
Ina Garten loves this dessert, too. I could crunch a Granny Smith right now!
Baby Fatima.
Willoree and Rowan.
Bob is alseep. He's generally very agro CO active.
My dream is to have a wood stove, otherwise this is like the old lady who had those shoes in the nursery rhyme or something.
Lelend feeling better, picks up book to read to children under blue sleeping bag with logs behind heads.
Porch drops off into where the skis are parked.
The trail coming up to Jay's cabin. This is a lot of snow for November. I want to be snow when I grow up.
Welcome wagon shot.
Where I would have liked to have spent the entire trip, basically. The fired stoked and soon the room hit 185 degrees. Swank!
Footprints in the sand. God is here, too.
And here.
And there, especially in that old skool metal can that says "ashes only".
The path to someplace that's also pretty.
Crane your neck or these children will fall down the blog!
Dream, dream.
Ella Rowan and Willoree.
Since the Sun is below the horizon, there is no direct path for the light to reach the mountain. Instead, light reflects off airborne snow, water, or ice particles low in the atmosphere. It is this circumstance that separates a normal sunrise or sunset from alpenglow.
Although the term may be loosely applied to any sunrise or sunset light seen on the mountains, true alpenglow is not direct sunlight and is only observed after sunset or before sunrise.
In the absence of mountains, the aerosols in the eastern portion of the sky can be illuminated in the same way by the remaining red scattered light straddling the border of the Earth's own shadow (the terminator). This back-scattered light produces a red band opposite the Sun.
The above Wiki courtesy www.
The active Bob, with a snow head.
A portrait.
Nice chatty and comfortable set up. I liked that this hut didn't have a ton of stuff, per se, but the stuff it did have was nice. And useful. And of excellent condition and quality.
Well shit! It's a bananagram!
I made a fort /cage for Phoebe with materials and furniture from the downstairs room.
Willoree has begun to smile sans showing teeth. Not Rowan! I do love these two so very much.
Oats for the little birdies.
Me and my whatever looking that way close up?
Peace and trekking thank god it was downhill most of the way home.
Sorry, shadowed children in the sled are hard to peep in on. There are two girls in there. They did great.
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Merci, bonne nuit, la hut! Le turkey? Oui, je ne sais pas du frommage!! On y va, et alors, tout de suite les femmes des apres bon visage en la mache prix!! Eh eh eh, plus de Chatres.
Fin.
