How Do You Spell Relief?
We took a ride on the two lane road through the Arapahoe Basin, Route 6, stopping to take photos along this route over the Continental Divide. At the end of our 45 minute ride on the narrow road, I noticed that my Livescribe pen was MIA. I searched the car. The pen had vanished. As I retraced our ride’s miles, I realized that the pen must have been sitting on my lap when I leaped out of the car to take photos. My generous husband suggested we circle back on the route to search for the pen, using the camera’s photos to help identify a possible vanishing point.
We pulled off the road at what had been our first stop. A dark object lay on the ground. It was my chubby black pen, safe from sudden death from a car’s tires. I grabbed it, putting it in a secure place for the ride back. The question from my husband for the rest of the week has been, “Where’s your pen?” The often-used pen has been secured.
Renegade Tree on the Snake River
We stopped at Target to look for a fishing rod. The rod was the hot agenda item for the day, thinking we may have an easier time of catching dinner than finding open restaurants during the off season. He found the perfect fishing rod at Sports Authority. Over lunch, he mulled over the purchase. He bought it, hook, lure and line.
All was well at the fishing spot until the fishing line drifted into a felled tree across the Snake River. Trying to retrieve the fishing line, the tip of his fishing rod came off. The tip of the rod rode down the fishing line, landing on the tree where the lure sat. While attempting to retrieve the tip of the rod and lure, the fishing line broke. Stranded on a dead tree floating in deep water, hope dimmed for a fishing rod tip rescue or a fresh catch dinner. After an hour of rescue attempts, the law of averages worked. He recovered the tip of the rod from the lifeless tree. The tree owns the lure.
The fisherman treated himself to a Margherita Pizza for dinner since area fish fled during multiple rescue attempts. The fisherman rolls with the river, happy with a frozen catch instead of fresh.
No Sense of Direction Leads to Wrong Destinations
I noticed an outlet mall advertising outlet stores I don’t often see. A day later, we went to the mall but couldn’t find the stores or the signs. It must have been an altitude mirage I thought. Returning from a visit to Vail, I saw the signs again! Turns out, there are two outlet malls. I found the outlet stores I had been sure I saw earlier in the week. I power-shopped while my driver sat in the car reading a novel on his Kindle.
In the Garbage
It isn’t unusual for us to ask for the location of garbage dumps ever since a trip to a dump in the Canadian Rockies turned out to be a good location to observe wolves. In Jasper, Alberta, Canada, we spent hours watching a wolf pack around a garbage dump. In Summit County, Colorado, the garbage dump is off the main road, up a steep mountain. Before dusk, we drove up the dirt road to the dump. Ten-foot high chain length fences surrounded the dump but a road to the right continued, to a shooting range! Oversized trucks and SUVs were parked at all sorts of angles. Shots were being fired. No wildlife would dare be in the vicinity of bullets piercing the air, nor would sane adults unless they were gonzo or members of the shooting range. No wildlife stalking was a disappointment for my driver. I was relieved when he turned to exit the county shooting range and garbage dump. We haven’t spotted much wildlife other than large numbers of magpies or their crow cousins.
What kind of mayhem have you experienced lately?