Back in Old Stomping Grounds

Top of Berthoud 11,300ft pass. It’s all down hill from here

Today was a great day. My daughter graduated from business school, it was my friend Jeff’s 66th birthday, I crossed two mountain passes and the Continental Divide, and I’m staying in a hotel only 38 miles from my mom’s house.

First, here’s a picture of my daughter Kate and her wonderful fiancé. They’re a great team and will be getting married on August 23rd. We’re so excited for the event and to officially welcome Jake into our family (he already feels like part of it).

Kate and Jake!

My friend Jeff celebrated his 66th birthday. Yesterday, he and his dog Finn had a very successful Barn Hunt competition. Barn Hunt is where dogs search for rats in a timed course. Finn found four rats, cleared one tunnel, and communicated the course was clear—all in under two minutes.

I’m sure you have a lot of questions: Is there wagering? Has the mob infiltrated these competitions? Do humans ever compete in dog costumes? What’s the required attire for handlers—halter tops, open-toed shoes? These are all excellent questions, but I’m trying to cross the country and don’t have time to be your personal Wikipedia.

Today’s ride covered about 130 miles and included two passes: Rabbit Ears and Berthoud Pass. Both were snowy at the top—especially Berthoud, which crests at 11,300 feet—but I crossed easily and had battery charge to spare. These were the last major mountain ranges I’ll need to cross until the Appalachians.

I’m spending the night in Idaho Springs, Colorado, just 38 miles from my mom’s house. I could’ve made it there tonight, but it was getting dark and I didn’t want to push it. I should be at her place before lunch!

What also made today special was that I traveled through my childhood stomping grounds. My friend Kurt’s family had a cabin near Kremmling. His parents were kind enough to take me on many trips there, and we had a blast—hiking, cross-country skiing, camping overnight, building log forts, and shooting at everything with pellet guns (somehow without losing an eye).

In high school, we started going to the cabin without adult supervision and acted like complete morons with our friends. Once, we tormented a French exchange student with impossible drinking games. That incident may have set U.S.-France relations back decades. I’ve strangely never heard from him again.

I had lunch in Kremmling at a place I’d been to before with my mom. While there, I had a great conversation with a couple from South Dakota. The husband had served in Vietnam, Central America, Desert Storm, and Bosnia. They were in Colorado to watch their granddaughter graduate. We talked a lot about South and North Dakota—and now I want to visit (not on a unicycle).

Randy, Randie and Steve. I’m going to change my name to Randee to make things less confusing

Later, I passed through Winter Park and hung out for a couple of hours with two couples and their dogs from Denver. One of the guys was the facilities manager for Casa Bonita—Denver’s iconic Mexican restaurant known for its cliff divers and famously bad food. It had closed years ago but was recently bought by the creators of South Park. I got a picture with him—he’s kind of a big deal. We had a great time talking and playing with the dogs. Conversation wandered to how divided the country is, and I shared my recent experience passing through Craig, Colorado.

What fun people, and dogs!

I passed through Fraser, Colorado, where I earned my Boy Scout Polar Bear Camping patch. Fraser is one of the coldest places in the country. We had to snowshoe out to a remote site, set up tents, cook, and sleep overnight—at 12 below zero. I’ve never winter-camped again. Strangely, I think I was colder a few nights ago than during that frigid trip. I only made it to Tenderfoot rank, so the Polar Bear patch was one of the few I earned.

I rode past the Winter Park/Mary Jane ski area, where both my wife and brother-in-law broke their legs—on separate days—as kids. Everyone from Denver skied there. I ended up teaching skiing there in high school with my friend Kurt. We spent more time messing around than actually teaching. By our last year, we skied around with radios as “mountain coordinators,” which mostly meant ignoring the radio.

There’s still so much snow in the mountains—it’s amazing. As I climbed Berthoud Pass, a route I’ve driven hundreds of times, everything felt new. The views were better, and the ride was shorter than expected. I reached the summit at 7:30 p.m.—a little chilly, but the sky was glowing and filled with joy.

I made it to Idaho Springs and am staying in a nice, old hotel. I’m excited to see my mom tomorrow. I’ll try to connect with some high school and college friends while I’m in Denver. I think I’ll stay for about three days!