Takin' a float at the 'Boat

The second half of our week in Colorado was spent in Steamboat Springs, where we took part in all of the fantastic festivities surrounding the wedding of Andrea (Erik's cousin) and Steve (Erik's new favorite cousin-in-law).  A quick recap. . .

Wednesday

 - Steve, Andrea, and Erik cause general discomfort at the county courthouse by asking too many questions about the Colorado 'first-cousins-can-marry' law.

 - The wedding party causes general discomfort at the local hot springs by wandering around (in the pitch dark) asking "are you nude?"

Thursday

 - The combined families at the wedding set a new Routt County record for volume of margaritas consumed before noon on a weekday.

 - Approximately forty wedding guests float down the Yampa River on tubes, while Christine (mother of the bride) opts to go freestyle after losing her tube thirteen seconds into the ride.

 - The combined families continue to pursue Routt County records for liver damage at Sunpies.  (I guess we got that Olympic spirit!)

Friday

 - The various men at the wedding who actually manage to wake up on Friday morning play something that looks approximately like golf at Steamboat Golf Club.

 - Due to a bit of sprinkles (read: deluge) and a light breeze (read: gale-force) and a touch of lightning (we saw Benjamin Franklin), the wedding rehearsal that was supposed to occur on top of Thunderhead Mountain takes place at the bottom of Thunderhead Mountain.  Why, again, do they call it Thunderhead Mountain?

 - The combined families continue to set Routt County records for alcohol and barbecue consumption at the Steamboat Smokehouse and Steamboat Yacht Club.

Don't worry - not ours!

Nastia Liukin has nothing on Erik!

Fake-reverend Erik playing fake-drunk reverend Erik.

Cascade Falls - Indian Peaks Wilderness

We've still got lots of blogging to do about our trip to Colorado before we can move back to NYC stuff. . .

The day before we drove west to Steamboat for cousin Andrea's wedding festivities, we went hiking in Indian Peaks Wilderness.  This particular hike, from Monarch Lake to Cascade Falls and back, is a favorite of the Simpson clan.  Katy and I have made the hike together at least three times, and she complains less every time!

To the relief of the three of you who read this, we'll let the pictures do the talking. . .

Will someone please honk a horn up here?

Katy and I recently returned from a wonderful week in Colorado. We spent the first half of the week at the Simpson family cabin, followed by four fun-filled days of festivities in Steamboat for my cousin Andrea's wedding.

The first night spent at the cabin - situated on the north shore of Lake Granby in Grand County, Colorado - was rather unsettling. Do you know how hard it is to sleep without the comforting sounds of cars whooshing by? Horns honking at all hours? Reggaeton music blasting from the building across the street? Do you know how annoying it is to wake up to the barely audible sound of a hummingbird flying overhead? I mean, seriously, can someone just make some freakin' noise up here???

Oh, and don't get us started on all of the open space and lack of crowds. I mean, everywhere we went, there were open fields, big lakes, and uninhabited forests! The grocery stores had friendly checkers and no lines. When we did (finally!) see a person, they said things like "hello!" and "How ya doin'?" and other creepy things like that. And they smiled. Weirdos.

Please don't even mention the prices. Seriously. Four seventy-five for a double cheeseburger? Get real. Those things should cost twelve bucks. Everyone knows that. Three bucks for a pint of beer?? Must be fake beer. Twenty bucks to rent a canoe for two hours? I mean, seriously, I can rent a two-foot remote-controlled sailboat for four times that in the park back home! Four dollars for a gallon of gas? I can get two sticks of butter for that!!

Well, since I'm already on this rant, I'll go ahead and say this. . .fresh air is *so* 19th century. No wonder the people up in the mountains are so weird. They don't get their daily allotment of carbon monoxide, and they've probably never known the joys of smelling a city coated in dog urine on a warm, humid day!

Despite all of these things, we managed to have some fun. We scampered up the hills and rock outcroppings across from the cabin. We sat out on the deck and enjoyed the beautiful view, the peace and serenity, and the sounds of nature. I played a round of golf at the local course with Katy as my caddie. We paddled a canoe around Grand Lake. We played cards. We had hamburgers and beers at the Lariat Saloon. . .which is probably the best place ever. We had ice cream cones. We played horseshoes. In the words of Tony the Tiger, it was Grrreat!

With love,

Katy and Erik

Look closely for the streak of white (next to sign) -- that's the golf ball.

Ode to the Mountain Pine Beetle

Oh, mountain pine beetle

the ignoble Dendroctonus ponderosae

which killeth every one

of the noble Pinus ponderosa

Poor ponderosa pine.

Oh, mountain pine beetle

the trees you kill

the forests you clear

were living beings too. . .

but you've really improved the view!

Oh, mountain pine beetle

your path of destruction

has left trees dead

and hillsides brown. . .

but you really brought my golf score down!

Oh, mountain pine beetle

nothing can stop you

not cold nor heat

nor mountains steep. . .

but you've sure made firewood cheap!

Okay, despite the foregoing, we haven't totally flipped our lid up here.  We don't sing or dance on subway cars or anything like that.  Well, not often, anyways.

Katy and I recently spent four days at the Simpson family cabin in Grand County, Colorado.  (Thanks, dad & Aunt Debi, by the way!)  Every moment spent there was wonderful, as always, but it was heartbreaking to see the destruction being caused by the mountain pine beetle.

For those of you who don't frequent the mountains of Colorado, the past few years have seen a plague of these beetles, which, according to one article I read, will likely kill every Ponderosa pine tree in the state of Colorado when all is said and done.  That's sad, both because it's by far the predominant tree in Grand County and because it was my elementary school mascot. . .yep, a tree was our mascot.  Go trees!

And, while the mountain pine beetle is certainly no joking matter, given what it has done to the scenery and the danger it causes by leaving hundreds of thousands of acres of standing firewood, it really did improve the view from the rock overlooks on the hillsides across from the cabin.  And, I'm certain it shaved about ten strokes off my round at the Grand Lake Golf Course, which was formerly a dense forest peppered with little strips of fairway, but now looks and plays like a links course.

We'll post more about our trip to Colorado a bit later, but this is a start. . .

With love,

Katy and Erik